Sabrina Mandell and Alex Vernon divine responses to questions from the audience in Happenstance Theater’s Adrift.
This time of year it may seem that every holiday tradition from around the world has been commodified in the United States, but one that hasn’t caught on is the British panto, a comic family entertainment widely produced throughout the U.K. at Christmastime. Happenstance Theater, the Washington, D.C.–based troupe behind Adrift, doesn’t name panto as one of the many influences on its quirky and clever show, but there are similarities: a vaudevillian essence, British accents, physical comedy, musical interludes, commedia dell’arte–type characters, audience participation, elaborate costumes, a touch of the ribald.
Adrift is less slapsticky and more highbrow than panto (if you don’t count fart jokes and a recurring sight gag with a cardboard tushie): it’s inspired by the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch and Pieter Brueghel, as opposed to the fairy tales that pantos are often based on. And whereas the adult content in panto usually consists of sexual innuendo, in Adrift it comes from thoughts about mortality, obsolescence and life’s futility.
The doctor in Adrift (Gwen Grastorf, top) performs surgery on a patient (Vernon).
Subtitled A Medieval Wayward Folly, the show comprises a series of sketches, with certain characters and motifs carrying over from one to another. Adrift is enjoyable for most of its 80-minute run time, and some of its vignettes are quite humorous, but this isn’t a comedy going for gut-busting laughs. Melancholia runs through it, conveyed by an impeccable cast deeply invested in the material. Their characters may be stuck in low spirits, but the performances are high-spirited.
Like all Happenstance productions, Adrift was “collaboratively devised” by the company’s five (non-British) members: Mark Jaster, Sabrina Mandell, Sarah Olmsted Thomas, Gwen Grastorf and Alex Vernon. They came up with the ideas, wrote the script, put together the soundtrack, created puppets, and designed scenery, props, and costumes. On stage, they not only act but also operate different types of puppets and provide music and sound effects on period instruments like the zither, tabor and bombard.
The cast’s intensive participation in bringing Adrift to life is probably the main reason it’s so effortlessly and ardently performed. The actors seem completely at home in their characters, even though they’re portraying figures from medieval artworks and texts.
“The cast’s intensive participation in bringing ‘Adrift’ to life is probably the main reason it’s so effortlessly and ardently performed.
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In addition to Bosch and Brueghel, the production gets its look and themes from illustrations in medical, alchemical and religious tomes, along with the practices of tarot, magic and mysticism. Those “inspirations” are all mentioned in the program—but audiences may also detect some resemblance to more recent cultural artifacts, such as Monty Python, Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are, The Simpsons and Saturday Night Live.
The Adrift quintet is first seen together on stage all standing within one hoop, their collective movement simulating rocking of a boat while individual actions like sighing and yawning indicate the passage of time and a feeling of hopelessness. The image is a “ship of fools,” as painted by Bosch and others. In this case, the passengers were set adrift (aha!) after fire, storms and floods presumably destroyed life on land—an apocalypse that’s depicted through shadow puppetry.
Adrift’s next sequence may be its most ingratiating: Cone-hatted oracles (Mandell and Vernon) spontaneously answer questions from the audience—à la improv comedians—by speaking one word at a time, without knowing what the other will say next. Vernon subsequently appears as a magician who turns a ball into an egg, then the egg into a strawberry—which is coveted by a hapless jester (played by Jaster).
A fool (Mark Jaster, right) and his demon (Sarah Olmsted Thomas) are never parted. Photographs by Leah Huete.
This leads to the show’s most delightful set piece, involving a snarling furry, horned creature (Thomas) who takes a liking to the jester when he removes a splinter from the beast’s paw. And “liking” in this case means grabbing the jester and not letting go. So it’s off to see a doctor with a penchant for punning (“No need to practice medicine—I’ve perfected it”) and for treating patients by use of a mallet. “I have this demon on my back that won’t let go,” the jester says, to which the physician (Grastorf) replies: “Well, we all have personal demons.”
As in most sketch comedy, certain segments of Adrift work better than others. But its skillful design and staging keep it from ever really flagging. While there may still be a sense of doom at the end of Adrift, it also brings a positive message about making the most of our time on earth.
Although Adrift was not conceived as holiday entertainment, it almost feels like one, as it’s running in December and suitable for all ages. Maybe it’s the association between medieval music and Christmas carols, or just because of the revelry in general, but this is a fine show for the season.
Happenstance Theater’s Adrift runs through Dec. 24 at 59E59 Theaters. Performances are at 7:15 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, with matinees at 2:15 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. For tickets and more information, visit happenstancetheater.com.
Directors: Mark Jaster and Sabrina Mandell
Sets: Mark Jaster, Sabrina Mandell, Nancy Rodrigues and Alex Vernon
Costumes: Sabrina Mandell
Lighting: Tori Muñoz and Daniel Weissglass
Puppet Design: Sabrina Mandell, Sarah Olmsted Thomas and Alex Vernon
