Wesleyan’s best-kept secret was revealed last weekend at Second Stage’s production of Rob Boyd’s ’08 “My Kingdom for a Whore:” Steve Sunu ’08, unassuming sociology major and acapella-singer, can fly. At the closing of the second scene, Sunu took flight off of the stage of the ’92 Theater with nary a rope in sight, and proceeded to soar into the wings. The audience, myself excluded, was startlingly nonplussed by his auto-aviation. It may be that after being met with the sight of Max Slater ’11 in red lacy underwear, a headless “Baby Jesus” fetus and a scene aptly titled “Girl on Girl,” the audience could no longer be shocked by anything.
The play tells the tale of boy-meets-girl, boy-learns-that-girl-is-actually-a-stripper-and-prostitute-in-a-nation-that-runs-on-gambling-and-whoring, boy-gets-girl. When squeaky-clean Brian Kelting (Slater) attends his Uncle Herb’s funeral, he mistakenly believes Herb to be the head of a mission. Upon finding out that Herb was actually king of a European nation based on a utopian vision of Las Vegas, the horrified youth sets out to make his new country more Christ-friendly. His reforms do not bode well with wide-eyed love interest Lilly (Elizabeth Trammel ’10), ambiguously gendered Luigi (Rachel Carpman ’10), or slick card-shark Nick (Joe Newman ’09). As the country’s economy slides “into the toilet, swirling around in the U-bend of poverty,” the megalomaniacal villain Destro Malevelus (Ross Shenker ’11) and his lackey Lackey (Gabe Fries ’09) plot an evil takeover, and predictable-but-cute hilarity ensues. It is perhaps not shocking that the play’s plot is not its strongest point. For all the attempted shock value of its premise, the piece is very much a modern day fairy tale, complete with a moral and happily-ever-after ending.
However, Boyd takes the fairy tale formula, and injects it with a distinctive brand of what audience member Dara Jaffe ’09 calls “delicious irreverence.”
The result is a surprisingly competent comedy, which, though at times preachy, still provoked in its audience some very satisfying, raucous laughter.
The parade of lingerie and gleeful references to sex and drugs may be what led Visiting Instructor in English Will Eggers to describe the show as, “Good, clean fun, except it isn’t clean.”
Yet, what strikes me is how very clean the show actually is. Though the characters joke about their illicit “shenanigans and goings-on,” this behavior takes place safely offstage. The audience’s virgin eyes are never affronted with the sight of actual stripping or gambling. Moreover, the story ends with Lily coyly announcing that perhaps strippers can go to church from time to time, and deciding to keep her illegitimate baby. Even the villain Destro receives a happy ending, mercifully forgiven for his nefarious deeds and allowed to resume his post as Royal Bartender. For all his scandalous bravado, Boyd’s play makes him out to be very much like Walt Disney’s funnier and slightly perverted younger brother.
Boyd’s humor relies strongly on his ability to weave together historical and pop-culture references. In addition to the Stripper/Prostitute Liz (Yelena Sayko ’10) reminiscing about a customer who would only have sex with her if she dressed like President Kennedy and he like a bullet, (he “plugged her all night”), there are references to “Jafar’s School of Grand-Vizeering,” “Igor’s Lackey Academy,” and, my personal favorite, the exclamation, “If clown-man is the father [of Lilly’s unborn child], think how many kids you can fit in the car!” He pairs wit with a healthy dose of sight gags and situation comedy that, if not mind-blowingly original, demonstrates a keen sense of what makes college students laugh.
“This play fits my sense of humor exactly, and I feel that it will fit the sense of humor of many Wesleyan students and people our age,” said Carmen Melillo ’09.
The play would not work, however, were it not for the tempering influence of co-director Lizzy Susca ’09, who brings a quality of polish and professionalism that gives the otherwise puerile production credibility. Susca has repeatedly proven herself able to make impossible things happen on stage, and it would be interesting to see what would result from her having complete creative control of a project in the future.
“Kingdom” also relies strongly on its exceptionally skillful cast of actors. Fries once again proves himself a master of comic nuance, this time channeling John Cleese in his portrayal of the long-limbed Lackey. Shenker’s Malevolus oozes glorious malificence, and Newman, as Nick, plays the cool older brother every kid always wanted. As an ingénue should, Trammell giggles, flirts, and prettily stamps her foot when angered. Slater’s Brian has the perfect quality of indignant naiveté. Slater would, however, benefit from becoming more comfortable on stage, as his more “emotional” scenes came off a bit stilted. But the stand-out performance was Carpman. Her honesty, excellent comic timing and ability to wrench real feelings from a script not geared towards emotional insight make her a joy to watch. Directors of Wesleyan: cast this girl.
In an earlier critique, I predicted that “My Kingdom for a Whore” would be a “pseudo-literary, student written comedy that Boyd’s friends would adore, and everyone else would politely appreciate.” Allow me to correct myself: first, there was no attempt at literary humor, pseudo or otherwise. The show reveled in its mischief, and, although not exactly brainless, was more along the lines of Judd Apatow than Oscar Wilde. Secondly, there was nothing “polite” about the audience’s appreciation. Their liberal laughter and frequent bouts of spontaneous applause betokened a genuine good time. If it is the case that only Boyd’s friends had fun at “My Kingdom for a Whore,” then he can count himself a very popular man.
The play involved: Max Slater ’11, Elizabeth Trammell ’10, Joe Newman ’09, Rachel Carpenter ’10, Ross Shenker ’11, Gabe Fries, ’09, Yelena Sayko ’10 Steve Sunu, ’08, Ted Kelly ’08, Chris Mixon ’09, Rob Boyd ’08, Lizzy Susca ’09, Greg Soros ’10, Chiara Di Lello ’10, Meg Dubarek ’08 and Emily Gallivan ’08.
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