Brick Theatre
June 6, 2009
Reviewed by VanLoan
vanloan@nyyconstage.org
Written by Stan Richardson (and one suspects the unaccredited input of the company) with incidental music by Rachel Peters, this witty, tongue-twisting label tells us everything we need to know about the work. Of the three authors that are subversively alluded to in the title (Mark Medoff, Jean Giraudoux and Bertolt Brecht), it’s Brecht who gets the most mileage preparing us for the dialectical message to follow. It’s a little too clever, a little too self-referential and a little too long for its own good. This is not to say the show is preachy or uninteresting; quite the contrary. So much of the show is smart, persuasive and politically correct that it’s a shame that Richardson cannot meet a metaphor or allegory he doesn’t bring into play.
In the prologue that opens the show, a group of twenty somethings are smoking from a bong mourning the suicide attempt of John, one of their friends. There is some concern that the cause was overmedication. Reverend Cindy (a droll Joanna Parson) the local Christian minister stops by to offer some consolation via a story/parable. With her folk guitar (which speaks to her in only a voice she can hear), she relates a tale set in Belle Époque Paris about a capitalistic pharmaceutical engineer who has a reversal of conscience and decides to devote his work to the benefit of mankind not profits. Various complications ensue; insuring that no good deed goes unpunished.
Brecht’s masterpiece on war profiteering, Mother Courage and her Children serves as the template here. As related via three Greek gods (Matt Steiner, Sara Alvarez and Brandon Uranowitz who will serve as a first-rate comedic chorus throughout) from the “House of Courage”, Dr. Courage (pronounced with a distinct French accent) decides that the rich aristocracy should pay for their own medication while the poor should be subsidized. When his suggestions are presented before his board of directors (the chorus), Courage (an excellent Tim Cusack) is soon assassinated for his efforts (“the Gods will answer for not answering”). His mother, Madame Courage (an often strident Debbie Troche) is left to fend for herself and her three deaf mute children (you know who).
The production aspects are minimal (the lack of any set hurts the production) and director Jason Jacobs does what he can to keep the action from becoming too static in the Brick’s black box playing space. The energetic ensemble of actors carries the piece although they are often at the mercy of the material. The slickness of the writing is both its strength and its undoing. The big musical send-up of Les Miserables is a hoot while references to a goat named Sylvia (Edward Albee) are a groaner. Yet any show that can comically morph Mother Courage and her son Swiss Cheese into Auntie Mame and her ward Dennis must be doing something right. The show ends on a nihilistic, Brechtian note chastising the adolescents of 9/11 who have become the do-nothings of the “Great Recession”. With some judicious editing, this Caucasian Mother could pack quite a punch of black comedy.
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