Oh, Mary! Off-Broadway Reviews

Cole Escola’s Oh, Mary! is not just funny: It is dizzyingly, breathtakingly funny, the kind of funny that ambushes your body into uncontained laughter. Stage comedies have become an endangered species in recent decades, and when they do pop up they tend to be the kind of funny that evokes smirks, chuckles or wry smiles of recognition. Not so here: I can’t remember the last time I saw a play that made me laugh, helplessly and loudly, as much as Oh, Mary! did—and my reaction was shared by the rest of the audience, which burst into applause at the end of every scene.

In the world of camp, heterosexuality is the biggest joke of all. Except in “Oh, Mary!” On any other stage, Escola’s Mary would steal the show, but fellow actors Conrad Ricamora and James Scully often snatch it right back. And both actors have the far more challenging role of playing a man who wears trousers. (The lavish costumes are designed by Holly Pierson.) The Playbill credits Ricamora and Scully as “Mary’s Husband” and “Mary’s Teacher,” respectively. Escola is an equal-opportunity offender, and lampoons gay sex even more than the straight variety.

More than once during “Oh, Mary!,” which opened Thursday night off-Broadway, it hits you: How am I laughing so uncontrollably at a play about Mary Todd Lincoln? Yes, Abraham Lincoln’s wife is the subject of this riotous new comedy at the Lucille Lortel Theatre, written by and starring Cole Escola, that definitely does not aim to teach your anything or challenge your brain cells. Rather, the campy “Oh, Mary!” is too busy daring your lungs to stay full of air for more than a few seconds. Like the Confederacy, your lungs lose.

The first half of Oh, Mary! is filled with raucous mayhem, and the cast and director Sam Pinkleton (best known as a choreographer, having done the Tony-nominated honors for Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812), milk the play for all the low comic farce they can muster. But things really begin to soar when it moves into the realm of theatrical absurdism that carries it to the end, including some surprising and clever moments that turn our Mary into a model of 19th century feminism.

There’s little else in New York theater right now quite as surprising as “Oh, Mary!” Written by and starring Escola, it’s a bit taken to an 80-minute extreme that’s silly, nasty, tasteless and, in the end, good theater — the kind of show that will leave you gagging, both in the sense that you’ll be losing your mind with joy, and that you might just be grossed out.

Lines like this might not come across on paper, but the effect is indeed hilarious when Escola spits them from Mary’s puckered mouth. Lincoln (Conrad Ricamora), meanwhile, spends his time searching for the opportunity—as he explains to his compliant orderly—to “let off some steam.” His hands are also full, of course, with that war with the South. “The south of what?,” Mary repeatedly asks. And it’s funny every time.

Sam Pinkleton’s direction perfectly matches Escola’s frenzied humor and grande dame queenerie – no easy feat – and draws quick-witted performances from the cast. It’s the kind of show where Escola (flouncing around in a stunning Astor Yang gown; Holly Pierson dressed the others), frets over which book to pick from an obviously fake wallpaper case before selecting the sole real prop. (dots, the ever-popular scenic design collective, gets to flex its comedy muscles; as does Cha See, with her melodramatic lighting cues).

From top to bottom (and yes, those jokes are included, too), Oh, Mary!‘s sharp writing, breakneck pace, and campy performances keep the theater in hysterics until the curtain falls. The unapologetically silly script delivers simultaneous broad comedy and social commentary. Despite the Civil War raging on, Mary has no idea what her husband means by “the South,” thinks the concept of subtext is a lot like being inbred, and finds glee as her chaperone (Bianca Leigh) discovers her G-spot by a wayward scoop of vanilla ice cream. It’s all almost as ridiculous as actual American politics.

The crux of Oh, Mary! is Todd’s realization that the men in her life seek to undermine her, even when they claim to have her best interests at heart. It is this understanding that grounds director Sam Pinkleton’s production, ridiculous as it may be, in a certain pathos.

Did I and the others in that gleeful crowd receive the enormous treat? That won’t be blabbed here. It may be, however, that Escola has already primed themselves an Oh, Mary! sequel: 80 minutes of a giddy ooh-la-la Mary turn, complete with cabaret favorites. How about Mary on Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come,” Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now,” and, maybe more pertinent, “Drinking Again”? I cannot wait.