REVIEW: Cockpit-in-Court's THE FULL MONTY

A few things need to be cleared up before I begin my review of The Full Monty at Cockpit-in-Court, which opens their 34^th season. First, YES they do (and congratulations to C-I-C for at least attempting a show written this century). Second, before I get a barrage of hate mail, I know this show very well – it is not about stripping at the end, it is about what it really means to be a man – a father, a husband, a lover. Third, I still believe it is possible to have high standards and be a community theatre. I absolutely hate hearing "only community theatre", and hate even more when community theatre itself does little to combat that mediocre image. 

I have been a long time patron of this Baltimore area institution. In that time, I've seen some truly outstanding community theatre – The Rink (a production that had me asking why it was a flop on Broadway), ditto Baby, and a really cool production of Zorba… all three of those were done at least a decade maybe two ago, and I remember them like they were yesterday, they were so good. So, now I ask myself, what has happened? It makes me ache, literally, to hear audience members say, "Well, it was great for community theatre!" or worse, yet, "What did you expect? It's only community theatre." How truly sad, not only because Cockpit-in-Court once stood proudly as an example of great theatre of any level, but because those comments were among the nicest I heard during intermission and after the show. Perhaps the worst part of the whole affair is that the vast majority of the problems with this production could very easily be remedied, though only one of them without some major reworking.

It is a testament to the extremely high quality of the book (by theatre legend Terrence McNally) that this Monty got as many laughs as it did. Further, it is yet another reason why years from now David Yazbek (music and lyrics) will be recognized as a great popular Broadway songwriter and likely studied if he continues his work. How many theatre rookies know enough to minimize orchestrations every time a funny line in the lyrics comes up, guaranteeing a hearty laugh, even at the expense of not being able to hear much of the next verse through the laughter? It would seem that both Mr. Yazbek and Mr. McNally know what they are doing in insuring an almost guaranteed fun-fest, even in the least capable hands. Almost. It would seem that they had just this production in mind while writing because it is fun and enjoyable in spite of itself. One can only imagine how much fun the audience would have had, had they the advantage of knowing the lyrics by heart or the script as well as I do. I can guarantee that except for the people on stage, and the few people in the audience I know personally that know this show, no one else got anything from the song, "Big Black Man" other than the riotously funny title of the song, which, as I mentioned is timed to be sung at moments when there is the least music coming from the pit. Fortunately, this, and other similar situations throughout the evening has nothing to do with Aaron Androh's performance as the titular Black Man. He was singing and dancing his heart out, managing to make the uninspired choreography (by director James Hunnicutt) funny. What the audience missed is an absolutely hilarious, stop-the-show ode to penis size and societal expectation. The fault here lies with the embarrassing sound quality of this venue. And perhaps with the artistic staff, who, unless opening night was the first night with microphones (and if that's the case, shame on them), should have had this problem fixed before curtain. The orchestra, which sounds great and is terrifically directed by R. Chris Rose, is also way over amped, rendering most of the lyrics not lost due to mic issues unhearable. This type of situation happened during nearly every song in act one and a good deal of the time in act two. To be fair, a really expensive sound system would be a budget buster for a community theatre. So why not unplug it all and do it the old-fashioned way – without microphones!?

Even worse, though, you couldn't hear a majority of the dialogue, either. And that is only partly the fault of the mics. The theatre at Essex Community College is designed for other purposes than just shows. Its cave-like structure makes it a natural for a large lecture hall, which by its very nature should be able to carry voices. Even with microphones that work, the actors should be projecting. And it doesn't help that it staged so far upstage. At least some of the scenes could have been done out on the thrust of the stage, no? The result is that in addition to mic problems, the actors have been directed to talk and sing facing the wings – most notably during the meaningful opening number, "Scrap" (the guy behind me giggled to his wife, "A song called 'Crap' how funny!") – or during scenes in a living room or up against the voluminous pieces of scenery (courtesy(?) of Gateway Playhouse in Long Island). I'm curious – did you HAVE to use every ugly - I'm being generous - piece they sent? It clearly barely fits the stage and gets in the way of the performers. Which brings me to another easily fixed directorial issue (and one that, if fixed, might take some of the "community theatre" out of it). The transitional scenes – those done while scenery is being changed – should be done while the changes are actually going on, not after. The result is several very flat moments that further drag down the near snail's pace of the show (it comes in at just about 3 hours). And the choreography of the two big numbers, "Michael Jordan's Ball" (boring at best) and "Let It Go" (a pale imitation of the Broadway number) is so bland they barely register. The problem is they each end an act, meaning they should have the audience a-buzz, not saying, "Oh, now's intermission!") Saddest of all, the choreography doesn't have to rival Fosse – these guys are SUPPOSED to look amateur and sloppy – and should be a community theatre dream. Tighter timing and better staging is even free – any community theatre can afford that – and it looks so professional!

That is only half of this full Monty. The other half has a lot of potential, some of which might grow as the show settles in. Six of Baltimore's bravest souls are in this show. There isn't a man alive who doesn't secretly fear that his, um, endowment, isn't large enough to withstand public scrutiny – otherwise our email wouldn't be inundated with penis enlargement ads and offers for free Viagra, and I suspect the sales of fast cars to middle-aged men would drop significantly. So for even auditioning for this show my, um, hat is off to the six stripping guys (seven if you count the guy who is a stripper from the start). And all six give very respectable performances. The best of the lot is actually half of the six. John Ford (better onstage than behind the scenes, I think) as the "fat bastard" Dave, is sweet and funny, self-deprecating, and good at acting down on himself. His Dave is what he should be, torn between the duties of being a best-friend and the responsibilities of a husband. Out of work and miserable, he is failing at both. Ford also handled an opening night "wardrobe malfunction" expertly and provided the show with a last minute moment of genuine, and most importantly, realistic feeling. Too bad there's no way to keep that in without risking even more problems. (And if this was "supposed to happen", Mr. Hunnicutt, I wish you had been as inspired and original with the rest of your direction.) The only two of the six that show real chemistry, are the ever-reliable Dan Johnson and charmer Alex Cecchetti as Malcolm and Ethan, respectively. Johnson is the reason to watch what should have been a showcase for two other characters, "Big Ass Rock", and in moments shared during act two, particularly during the beautiful song, "You Walk with Me", this pair says more about relationships than Brokeback Mountain did and with much less controversy. The aforementioned Mr. Androh also has his funny moments, and Jeff Burch as Harold is appropriately starchy as the manager/efficiency expert turned choreographer. One wishes he could show some sort of believable fear beyond literally whining that his beloved wife Vicki never finds out his horrible secret. Finally, as the lead guy Jerry, Steven Antonsen (glad you have your voice back) gives a by the book performance. He says the lines correctly, but none of them are truly believable because he shows little of the heart this piece really needs. He has ZERO chemistry with his son, Nathan (Casey Kolb – I think it not fair to review a non-professional child). He also has little or no connection with his ex-wife, and is only little more than annoying rather than an all out jerk. Jerry is a relatively complex character, but none of that complexity comes through. It is not enough to read the lines efficiently and with close approximation of emotion; it is not enough to just hit the notes in the songs. You have to FEEL them. And nothing he ever does shows even a hint of the desperation Jerry must feel in his soul at not only the prospect of losing his son, but at what he is doing to keep him. Mr. Antonsen, I've heard is quite the gifted performer, and I'm told as a reviewer I miss his brilliance. To that I say to Mr. Antonsen, in the words of The Full Monty, let it go, then! Let her rip! Have a little fun and show some heart! It is that undercurrent of heart – love, desperation, fear of inadequacy as a man, and ultimately pride in doing what must be done – that is missing from the performances of this cast, and is what makes this Monty much less than it could be. And heart is also free of charge to any community theatre.

Perhaps the biggest oddity of the show is where the really great work is coming from, which is not to detract from the ladies doing it. It is odd because of any show in recent memory, The Full Monty is a tribute to all things male - it may just be the most masculine musical this side of Jersey Boys, and yet this production gets all of its real oomph from the ladies. The three best performances on opening night were those of the always enjoyable Liz Boyer Hunnicutt as Dave's standby your man wife, Georgie, Laurie Sentman Starkey as Harold's spender/desperate housewife, Vicki, and the riotous Harriette Bush Clark as Jeanette, the show biz queen/accompanist. All three clearly understand the women they are playing, giving them depth, heart and what appears to be genuine love for their men. Sound problems aside, these ladies are so good that even when you can't hear them, they give you all you need in their physical performance. 

One can only imagine the auditions for this show. I wonder how many people actually showed up. In true community theatre tradition, most of the cast has either performed together (a number did Drood with Mr. Ford at Vagabond's earlier this year) or are CIC regulars. That is both a good and a bad thing. Good in that there should be an automatic comfort level and connection between cast members and that new blood will often bring everyone up a notch; bad that neither case seems to be true here. Jeanette, in Act One, says at one point, "When the right guy walks through that door, you'll know it. He'll glimmer. He'll light up the room." I picture more of a lone birthday candle happening at these auditions, and a sigh of relief that at least 6 of them were willing to go the full monty.

PHOTOS: Top: "Hot Metal" in "Let It GO". Photo by Terri Raulie. Bottom: "Woman's World" (L to R): Liz Boyer Hunnicutt, Deborah Hicks, Claire Bowerman. Photo by Amy Jones.

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