Theater review: 'The Drowsy Chaperone'

There are fans of everything under the sun — stock car racing, football, anime, Civil War reenactments, Magic the Gathering, country/western line dancing, you name it. “The Drowsy Chaperone,” the latest production at the Players, revolves around a fan of old-school Broadway musicals.

You hear him before you see him. Then the lights reveal a man in a chair.  (“Man in Chair,” as played by Michael Bajjaly.) Sitting at the edge of his shabby apartment. (An evocative design by Kenneth Mooney.)

When he’s feeling blue, The Man perks himself up with original cast recordings of vintage musicals. (Vinyl LPs only. No CDs.) Tonight’s selection: “The Drowsy Chaperone” from 1928. He drops a needle on the scratchy record. Then the full orchestra plays; the characters pop out of the walls; and his shabby apartment transforms into a Broadway stage. The musical unfolds in a theater of the mind. The Man helpfully explains the premise (presumably to the audience in his mind) and offers running commentary throughout the performance.

Janet Van de Graff (Jessica Tasetano), the star of Feldzieg’s Follies, is about to marry the dim but wealthy Robert Martin (Logan O’Neill). Once she leaves show biz, Feldzieg’s show collapses. If that happens, visiting gangsters disguised as pastry chefs (Mike Phelan and Tom Palazzo) will turn the lights out on Feldzieg (Tony Boothby). So, the impresario does his best to scuttle the wedding. The drowsy (or drunk) chaperone (Nancy Denton) does her best to keep bride and groom apart. Various bits of business ensue. And in obedience to the iron laws of musical comedy physics, every unattached soul gets hitched before curtain.

That’s the silly musical-within-the-musical, supposedly the work of

“Gable and Stein.” As to the musical itself: Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison created the songs; Bob Martin and Don McKellar wrote the script. Their creation is part satire, part love letter. It’s a send-up of Jazz Age musicals, along the lines of Sandy Wilson’s “The Boyfriend.” But it lays its satiric cards on the table.

The Man draws your attention to …

The racist assumptions of a long series of spit takes between a white dowager and her black butler.

The actor playing Robert Martin’s lucrative side career as a shill for cocaine-laced toothpaste.

The diva playing the chaperone’s insistence on a show-stopping number in every show whether it made sense or not.

The sad fate of the character actor playing Adolpho, the vaguely Latinate lothario, who ultimately drank himself to death and was eaten by his poodles.

The formulaic nature of the whole affair.

The Man sees the flaws of old-time musicals. Fanatical fan that he is, he loves them anyway. You figure the musical’s creators do too. Or, for that matter, the multitalented Jared E. Walker, this production’s director, choreographer and costume designer, assistant choreographer Charles Logan, musical director Rick Bogner, a small army of technical talent, and the music comedy mavens in the audience giggling at the inside jokes and references. And, of course, the actors.

Bajjaly puts in a winning performance as Man in Chair. He’s a sexually ambiguous sad sack, an Everyman, a Walter Mitty living on dreams. (All that, and a walking encyclopedia of musical theater trivia.) O’Neill’s a hoot as the befuddled bridegroom. (Is it just me, or is he doing a Jimmy Stewart impression?) He manages to stay on his feet while roller-skating blind-folded. Tasetano’s the perfect starlet—and shines in the “Show Off” number revealing the incandescent ego behind her sweet smile. Amanda Heisey is very funny as Kitty, the dim bulb blonde who wants to step into her shoes. Boothby’s pushy producer would be right at home in a Marx Brothers movie, where  Phelan and Palazzo’s wisecracking gangsters could’ve walked out of a Three Stooges short. (Aside from making terrible pastry puns, they never resort to violence.) Denton has a loose-limbed Carol Burnett take on the titular Drowsy Chaperone. Betty Robinson is a hoot as on the tottering Mrs. Tottendale, Carl Bowman does a slow burn throughout the play as her long-suffering manservant. Chip Fisher’s Adolpho is every ethnic stereotype rolled into one. Berry Ayers is the perfectly nervous best man. Jordan Obbema is the suitably perky aviatrix who marries and then flies all the newlyweds to Rio in the end.

Put it all together, and what do you get?

Great performances based on stereotypes and violations of logic. As The Man would say, “So what?” As he observes, “The story exists only to connect the longer, more engaging production numbers.” A point he makes while comparing musicals to pornography. But it applies.

The dumb blondes, gee whiz ingénues, cardboard gangsters and ethnic caricatures set up the song and dance nicely, and that’s what counts.

Ultimately, this is a musical created by fans of musicals for fans of musicals. It’s part parody, part guilty pleasure. Weird recipe, but it works.

“The Drowsy Chaperone” is like a giant, sugar-saturated wedding cake. The satire plainly tells you, “This is a giant, sugar-saturated wedding cake.” That satirical conceit lets audiences have their nostalgic cake and eat it too.

And the opening night audience did.