Santa Maria Civic Theatre es da rektplas forest ein epsomlootely baloontiful, zoopa mit noodle prodooctshun, Ein Twilightsparkle mid David Ives. Nintendo ein poultry di Ives’ blizzardo linkwa.
Do not attempt to adjust your Sun. That introduction was simply written in Unamunda, a language used in Universal Language, one of six short plays that comprise Santa Maria Civic Theatre’s An Evening with David Ives. But more on that later.
First … who the heck is David Ives? He’s an acclaimed playwright who specializes in a very distinctive brand of comedy with emphasis on wordplay and inventive scenarios.
The set is abstract, consisting of several blank walls lit with colored light, but some distinctive scenery and props are brought onstage for each play.
The evening opens with Arabian Night (directed by Zaira Dynia Valdovinos). As written, it’s probably the weakest of the six selections, but it’s still intriguing and worth a few laughs. Somewhere in the Middle East, tourist Norman (Cliff Buck) is led into a shop by a local (Jeff Zahn), who will act as a translator with the shopkeeper, Flora (Angela Hutt-Chamberlin). We hear Flora speaking in English, but it’s made clear that she and Norman can’t understand each other. The translator manipulates the pair by turning their mundane discussion of souvenirs into something more romantic and adventurous. Or sometimes, he just says something totally wacky—i.e. whenever someone says “well …” he translates it as “a deep hole in the ground.” (Groan.) Zahn has a good sense of mischief, and by the end, Norman and Flora really seem to be falling under his spell.
The next piece, Words, Words, Words (also directed by Valdovinos) is based on an old adage: “Three monkeys typing into infinity will eventually produce Hamlet.” Three chimps (rather than actual monkeys) hammer away at antique typewriters while an unseen scientist observes them. They know they’re supposed to produce Hamlet—but they don’t know what Hamlet is. The piece gets into some metaphorical territory about being a working writer. Milton (Samuel Martin) is all too happy to produce “copy” for the powers that be as long as rewards are tossed into the cage, Swift (Kassie Thiel) is bitter and resentful, and Kafka (Sydney Asencio) seems content just to hammer a single button on her typewriter. The actors convince us of their characters’ species with comic chest pounding and tire swinging. Perhaps most impressively, Asencio eats a banana … with her feet.
Both Arabian Night and Words end rather abruptly. (Murmurs of “was that the end?” were heard at the reviewed production.) The subsequent plays feel much more whole.
In Universal Language (directed by Johannes S. Beals), Dawn (Kelly Greenup), a shy woman who speaks with a stutter, comes to learn a new language called Unamunda from instructor Don (Stuart Wenger). The “language” consists of mangled English, words from various other languages, and pop culture references. The word for “English” in Unamunda is “Johnclease,” as in John Cleese of the English TV series Monty Python’s Flying Circus—a show that almost certainly inspired this playwright. The word for despair, meanwhile, is “desperanto”—likely a reference to real-life would-be universal language Esperanto. Both performers master the almost Jerry Lewis-like ramblings of Unamunda. Needless to say, you have to have a stomach for silliness in order to appreciate some of Ives’ work. But the playwright is a romantic at heart, and, as tenderly played by the two actors, the end of the piece is quite touching.
Act Two begins with Time Flies (directed by Bob Larsen), about a pair of mayflies sharing a romantic evening by a moonlit puddle of stagnant water. Both wearing thick-rimmed glasses adorned with glow-stick antennae, Asencio and Josh Cornell are very sweet together. You root for these two insects to hook up. They decide to watch television—because yes, they have one, and a TV Guide to boot—and tune into a nature program narrated by David Attenborough (Samuel Martin) that just happens to be about them. Turns out the “lowly mayfly” lives only a single day. This piece shows Ives’ ability to be both silly and serious at the same time—dealing with rapidly approaching death, the most grave of topics—while also giving us bug puns and cuckoo clock noises.
In The Philadelphia (directed by Stuart Wenger, pulling double duty) Al meets his friend Mark for lunch and complains that everything has gone wrong that day. Mark explains Al is in “a Philadelphia”, and thus he can’t have anything he asks for. “But I’m in New York!” Al protests. Ah, Mark explains, Al’s physically in New York, but he’s metaphysically in Philly. Zahn’s exasperation is uproarious. Wearing sunglasses and a loud orange Hawaiian shirt, Buck captures the laid-back, flippant attitude of someone enjoying a “Los Angeles.” And the experience of being in a Philadelphia is driven home by Maureen Staunton as the no-nonsense waitress who says, “We’re all out of that!”
The show closes with Sure Thing (directed by Beals). A man (Cornell again) and woman (Hutt-Chamberlin again) meet in a cafe. Whenever one of them says the wrong thing, or the conversation reaches a dead end, a bell rings and they begin again. For example, when they broach the touchy subject of politics: “Man: I’m a straight down the ticket Republican. (Ding!) Straight down the ticket Democrat. (Ding!) Can I tell you something about politics? (Ding!) I like to think of myself as a child of the universe. (Ding!) I’m unaffiliated. Woman: I’m unaffiliated, too!” It’s a unique twist on the romantic comedy, exploring the myriad ways a couple could not get together. It really says something about the fragility of human connections. And it’s a laugh riot, too.
Although the plays have different directors, the evening comes together nicely as a whole, united by the common themes and tone of Ives’ plays.
Freelancer Brent Parker once hired a monkey to write Hamlet, but he got The Tempest instead. Contact him via scone@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in May 5-12, 2011.