Florida Studio Theatre's 'The Outsider' takes aim at the politics of stupidity

Paul Slade Smith’s “The Outsider," now on stage at Florida Studio Theatre, is a lightweight political satire with a heavy target. Hold that thought.

The play begins right after a sex scandal forces the governor of an unnamed state to leave office. His entire staff goes too — except for Dave Riley (Gil Brady), his former chief of staff.

Ned Newley (Sheffield Chastain), the former lieutenant governor, instantly becomes the new governor. The man’s a genius-level math whiz. He was once a state treasurer and still thinks like one. 

Newley hates crowds, public speaking and TV cameras. Hiding in his office and running budget numbers is his idea of a good time. That’s no longer an option. Before Newley knows it, he’s mumbling the oath of office while surrounded by a firing squad of TV cameras. The embarrassing video goes viral. 

Arthur Vance (Roy Stanton), a James Carville-esque political flack, sees it — and spots political gold. He flies in and sweet-talks the mortified Newley with twisted logic. Yes, the viral vid made him look like a moron. But that’s a good thing! 

That’s what the people want! Keep acting like a moron and you’ll do fine. Riley’s disgusted by this fraudulent play-acting. 

But Newley plays along, and puts on a lumberjack shirt for his next TV interview. The Q&A begins. The idealistic reporter (Tatiana Williams) and her taciturn cameraman (Kevin Cristaldi) know something’s up, but Newley keeps playing dumb. And gets away with it — until Lulu (Eileen Ward) a scatterbrained temp with a Minnesota accent, barges into the shot and ruins his act. 

What’s her job? Ditz that she is, Lulu has to think about it. Gee. Lieutenant governor, maybe? The interview ends, with no time for correction. Lulu’s now running for office! It’s on TV, so it’s official. 

Vance is delighted to his toes to be her campaign manager. If Newley’s political gold, Lulu’s platinum. This chick doesn’t have to pretend to be clueless. She really is clueless! In the play’s topsy-turvy world, this airhead just might win — or go further. But Governor Newley just might get real.

That sounds like a tight political satire. But my summary paves over a few plot holes. The first act underwhelms. Its fast-talking screwball comedy dialogue's funny. But it’s loaded with heavy exposition, and that drags it down. 

Instead of showing you, the first act tells you. You hear about this scaredy-cat new governor, but he’s usually off-stage. Kooky characters, wacky situation. Ha-ha. I chuckled a few times, and that’s it.

 But the second act won me over. Governor Newley finally shows up — and sticks around. He now feels like an actual character, not a rumor. The other characters also snap into focus. After that, I invested in their story — and started laughing out loud.

Director Kate Alexander has a knack for comedy. She distracts you from the first act’s story problems with slapstick. When the second act gets the story straight, she takes it to comedy town. And makes the audience howl.

But the actors get credit, too.

Chastain’s Newley is a smarter, kinder cousin of Stephen Root’s character in “Office Space.” He’s a quiet man, a shadow man, a man who isn’t there. Chastain shines when his character drops the dummy act, and explains how government works to the cameraman. His eloquent words are sincere and from the heart. It could’ve been a cornball scene, but Chastain makes it feel real. 

Riley’s great as a sane man in a mad, mad world. His character heroically keeps a positive attitude, thinks the best of his crazy colleagues and always does the right thing. On top of all that, he struggles to keep his own sanity. Stanton does a spot-on James Carville impression as the Vance character. (I’m not sure if that’s in the script, but Vance nails it.)

Paige Caldwell’s pollster digs his Machiavellian, chess-master mind — and probably digs him. Williams is perfect as Rachel — a low-level TV reporter with high journalistic standards. She’s constantly forced to compromise by bosses with no standards. Williams makes you feel Rachel’s simmering frustration. Cristaldi’s grunting cameraman reminds me of every cameraman I’ve ever known. 

But Ward’s clueless Lulu steals the show. Her scatterbrained character can’t remember anybody’s name, which intercom button to push, or where to find the door to the governor’s office. 

But ignorance is bliss, at least for Lulu. Despite her constant screw-ups, Lulu is always a beam of sunshine. Thanks to Ward’s hilarious portrayal, she always gets big laughs.

Smith’s political satire unfolds in a Bizarro World where up is down, competence is stupidity and idiocy is the ideal image. It’s over the top, and never even tries to be realistic. 

Daniel Ciba’s Technicolor costumes are a perfect fit for the playwright’s looking glass universe. But Isabel and Moriah Curley-Clay's drab governor’s office is realistic. Their set’s dominated by a grinning portrait of the disgraced ex-governor, and stuffed with cheap, shabby furniture. There’s zero glamor, and it’s utterly believable. Little else is in Smith’s play. “The West Wing” it ain’t.

But the playwright’s not going for verisimilitude.

“The Outsider” is a surreal political satire. As noted, the world of the play is Bizarro World. I didn’t believe in it for a second, but so what? It got me laughing and that counts for a lot. 

But I have one gripe. “The Outsider” is a political satire with very little politics. Its satire aims at a single political target. Just one. And it’s a narrow one.

The politics of stupidity. That’s Smith’s satiric target. His play hits the bull’s eye on that one.

“The Outsider” ignores a massive shooting gallery of other political targets. But it’s still pretty funny. And it ends with a note of hope.

When Governor Newley finally drops the dummy act and reveals his high IQ, his voters love it. They might not be as stupid as Vance thinks.