"The Play That Goes Wrong" is a farce. I've seen a few and loved them! They require larger than life performances, carefully timed word play, often sets and props that malfunction at just the right moment, and preferably to the utter surprise of the audience. I suppose you could say that they look deceptively simple in construction, formulaic even. But that's only if they are poorly done.
While the actors all seemed to be pouring their little hearts into performing this show, it was as lifeless as a dead horse. Almost from the very beginning I was bored. Nothing was in the least bit surprising and all the gags were as stale as the 100+ air outside of the theatre. Over the past ten years, I have come to expect good things from Keegan. Sometimes even amazing things. But never banal things. Why just last August they presented a very similar play, "Noises Off;" and it was gangbusters hilarious. I spent most of my ride home on the Metro trying to figure why the two productions had such diametrically opposed outcomes. When it came to me it was a totally "no, duh" moment.
This cast played to the audience. They didn't deliver their lines to one another. They spoke them to us often pausing prematurely for an expected reaction. Assuming that the cast didn't think this little idea up simultaneously, I would have to assume it was the result of some poor direction. I rarely speak of directors, because honestly it's a leap to assume anything about a process of which I have no direct knowledge, and yet, when a cast comes together in a brilliant symbiosis who gets the credit?
If nothing else, the director should have recognized what was going on and put an end to it full stop.
However, the evening wasn't entirely a complete waste. I purchased my seat 7A on the front row--I can't imagine what possessed me, even in this lovely relatively small theater, I do not like to sit on the front row. There are ten seats in each row, five on either side of a central aisle that is also a stairway. 7A is one from the end stage right. When I got there a young women, slight, shoulder length dark hair dressed in a mid-calf loose skirt and summery short sleeve top, both white. She had placed her soda on the floor under where my seat would drop once I sat down. I said pleasantly, "I guess this is me."
"Sorry," she offered as she retrieved the can of soda. She was scrolling through feeds on her cell phone. I took my pic of the stage and prepared to send it out on Facebook. There was no in the seat to right A5, and A3 was occupied by a very old woman who looked a little like she was being swallowed by it!
In a moment, a man, trim build, silver hair carefully groomed in a polo shirt, khaki pants, (my god) even penny loafers and no socks descended the middle aisle, turned in our direction and approached calling out the young woman's name in the form of a question. She responded in kind, "Bob?" Her voice was soft with disbelief.
"Oh my God," said Bob. "I thought you moved to Philadelphia."
She said, with a little squirm, "I did."
Then he sat down in A5. Now I was sitting directly between them. I know. A better man would have offered to switch seats with Bob. But I am not a better man...especially when I thought I detected a little hesitancy in the young woman's voice.
Bob leaned out physically to look around me, his long legs already created an awkward pose in the seat. He said, "So you're back in DC?"
"Yes," said the woman without any elaboration or context.
"Oh," Bob added trying to sound more up-beat than confused. Then leaning out again he plodded on. "You come here often?"
(Inside my head, I rolled my eyes.)
"No," she said. "This is my first time."
"Me, too," said Bob with a little glee. Was he hoping for an entry into something more substantive?
"Did you see they have their next season in the program?" Bob asked after an awkward silence.
"Yes," jumped in the woman, apparently glad to have something to break the silence, too. "It looks interesting. They have a play called 'An Irish Carol' that sounds good."
Having diverted his attention to the portion of the program with the new season's plays listed, Bob leaned forward again and said, "I noticed that, too. I bet it's good." His voice dropped on the last word in a way that seemed to say--'didn't she just say that?'
The lights dimmed, the play began, Bob sat back in his seat. Throughout the first act, the young woman laughed at very nearly everything. At first when she would, Bob learned forward and looked in her direction, but by 30 minutes into the play he stopped. Around 45 minutes in his head flopped backwards and he caught himself dozing off... I sympathized with Bob.
At intermission the young woman bolted out of her seat. Noticing, Bob got up and stretched, then he exited the theater proper into the lobby following the same path. I was right behind him. In the lobby, he looked for the young woman, but she was nowhere to be seen. The cruel me imagined her locked in a stall in the lady's room rabidly texting her girl friends about running into Bob at the theatre.
I must admit that this side show is the only thing that kept me from feeling completely disappointed in the evening.
L-R: Dennis who played Perkins (Rebecca Ballinger), Max who played Cecil Haversham (Jimmy Bartlebaugh), Chris who played Inspector Carter (Matthew Pauli), Robert who played Thomas Colleymoore (Jackson Saunders), Sandra who played Florence Colleymoore (Leah Packer) and the recently deceased Jonathan who played Charles Haversham (Jared H. Graham)
Jared H. Graham as the murder victim, Charles Haversham...but is he really dead?
Rebecca Ballinger as Perkins, Mr. Charles Haversham's devoted butler.
Jackson Saunders as Thomas Colleymoore, Mr. Charles Haversham's loyal, boyhood friend.
Matthew Pauli as Detective Carter called upon the solve the murder of Charles Haversham.
Martina Schabron, the play's Stage Manager who is called upon to play the role of Florence Colleymoore after the actor playing the part is knocked unconscious.
Darren Badley who played Trevor the play's tech guy.
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