Gabe (Anthony Chavers) adjusts the costume of an annoyed Phaedra (Emily Sweeney Goldstein) in Medea: A Musical Comedy.
There’s sure been a passel of Medeas lately. An operatic one by Fusion Theatre back in March. Red Bull Theater’s Medea: Re-Versed, the recent hip-hoppy version. And now Medea: A Musical Comedy, written, directed by and starring one John Fisher, currently infesting the Actors Temple Theatre. The very title is a joke, and be assured, Fisher will keep piling the yuks on top of one another. If only the vast majority of them weren’t so juvenile.
Could Jason/Paul (Ryan Borgo-Christian) and Medea/Elsa (Laura Pachnos) be falling in love?
It’s not, be assured, an actual musical comedy version of Euripides; befitting these meta days, it’s a musical about a musical about Medea. On what one hopes is Danny Durr’s deliberately tacky set, that musical is in rehearsal, the brainchild of a perpetually freaked-out director (Fisher) who wants to create a Medea that’s gay, one that’s “a statement of gay power, of gay self-determination.” That’s OK with the leading man playing Jason, Paul (usually Ryan Borgo-Christian, but on the night I attended Daniel Kushner, soldiering bravely on). But it doesn’t sit that well with his Medea, Elsa (Laura Pachnos), who sees the play as a declaration of female empowerment. To emphasize this feminist slant, she’ll undermine her director if she has to.
Then there are the manifold personal dramas, all of them meant to be amusing, that engulf cast and crew. Gabe (Anthony Chavers), Paul’s ex, is playing Aetees, king of Colchis, and designing the costumes. He’s still in love with Paul, but Paul has an eye for Darryl (Darius Mullens), who’s playing Hippolytus and keeps rippling his nipples and hiking his gold-lamé-bedizened shorts. Kegan (Emily Sweeney Goldstein), playing Phaedra, is besotted with her stepbrother Cal (Mike Kinzer), playing Apsyrtus, but that will go through a couple of permutations. Meantime, stage manager Karen (Jenna Arkontaky) is wearily toting a notebook and doing the director’s largely bellowed bidding. Corey (Bobby Weil), the musical director, will end up onstage, too.
It may sound more fun than it is. From the first note, with the cast belting to Kander and modified Ebb, “Start spreading your legs, we’re screaming away, we want to be the gays in it, Colchis, Colchis,” it’s clear the campiness factor is going to fly off the charts. The rest of the playlist is largely show tunes, along with other selections from the Gay American Songbook. Fisher fishes all the way back to 1910 for 16 bars of “Ah! Sweet Mystery of Life,” with its original terrible Rida Johnson Young lyric, and up to “I’ll Never Love This Way Again” and “I Will Survive,” with a smattering of Gershwin and Arlen in between. The lyrics are mostly Fisher’s, assisted by James Dudek, and if “Venus” turns up at the end of a line, you can damn well guess what the rhyme is going to be.
The main plot engine has Paul and Elsa, who was previously with Cal—are you keeping track of all these pairings?—slowly realizing they may have amorous feelings for each other, which plunges Paul’s always-gay-up-to-now identity into crisis. With opening night fast approaching, the calamities are mounting, and what should be a merry, Kiss Me, Kate–like backstager is sinking deeper and deeper into a mire of camp.
Paul and Gabe endure some offstage conflicts. Photographs by Ian McQueen Photography.
The voices are strong; Jane (Hunter Hope Barnett), as Aphrodite, can shake some mean booty; and there’s the occasional sober scene and relief from all the shouting of “fag” and “faggot” and talk of tit clamps. Some sight gags work, and there’s a striking discussion among Paul, Elsa and Cal on the fluidity of sexuality. But it’s only striking because everything surrounding it is so 10th-grade. Later, Paul and Elsa assert to their director that Medea never did in fact murder her children; the Corinthians did, and paid Euripides handsomely to literally rewrite history. A quick Wiki search turns up no such thing, though some accounts suggest the infanticide was unintentional. In any event, Fisher labors mightily to turn Medea’s sons’ murder into a joke. Body parts fly into the audience, and the Gershwin strikes up with “Of Thee We Sing, Dead Babies.” Ha!
In addition to his skimpy set, Durr provides some clever costumes on a budget, and Barnett, who choreographed her own dances, did a splendid job. The cast is capable or better, and some, notably Kinzer and Pachnos, are even memorable. Furthermore, Medea: A Musical Comedy won some awards and wonderful reviews in a previous incarnation in San Francisco, and some of the New York audience seemed to be enjoying it plenty. Then there were those of us who walked into the Actors Temple perfectly happy, and exited in a sour mood. Given Medea’s original author, I’m reminded of an old knock-knock joke: “Who’s there?” “Euripides.” “Euripides Who?” “Euripides pants, now you gotta pay!” That’s about the level of humor happening here.
John Fisher’s Medea: A Musical Comedy plays at Actors Temple Theatre (339 West 47th St). Evening performances are at 7 p.m. Thursday and at 8 p.m. Saturday; matinees are at 2 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Additional performances are Tuesday, Nov. 19, at 7 p.m.; Wednesday, Nov. 20, at 7 p.m.; Wednesday, Nov. 2,7 at 7 p.m.; and Friday, Nov. 29, at 1 p.m. There are no performances on Oct. 24 or Nov. 21 and 23. For tickets and more information, visit Telecharge.com, or call (212) 239-6200.
Playwright: John Fisher
Director: John Fisher
Scenic Design: Danny Burr
Costume Design: Danny Burr
Lighting Design: Hilton Emilio
Prop Design: Nicole Crandall
