April 19–26, 2001

theater

Great? Wait.

The Great Northeast

1812 Productions at 2nd Stage at The Adrienne, 2030 Sansom St., through May 6, 215-592-9560

Gratitude first. So far this season, 1812 Productions has given us two wonderful events: Mondo Mangia, a charming evening of food, song and the delectable Jilline Ringle; and Big Time Vaudeville, a variety show of old routines, brought to superb new life by Jennifer Childs et al.

These were, if you will, 1812 overtures: clever miniatures full of audience-pleasing flourishes. The implied promise is that larger things will follow. There’s no doubt that the talented folks at 1812 can deliver comic bits to a fare-thee-well. But can they translate their skills into a full-scale play? Can they handle narrative and nuance?

I believe they can. But The Great Northeast won’t be the show to prove it. Pete Kimchuk’s script may be structured as a two-act play, but neither it nor Peter Pryor’s direction has any depth. Long before one of the principal characters drops his pants, Northeast has fled to the land of sketch comedy, from whose bourn no play returns.

Too bad, because the basic idea is promising. Northeast is the story of housewife Twinka McDaniels, who — with her crotchety mom and punk daughter — has moved to a new home in a new neighborhood (and, she hopes, a new life and a new social class). Alas, Twinka can’t quite settle into the role of gracious chatelaine. There’s mom-trouble, daughter-trouble, boyfriend-trouble (Twinka’s involved with a low-rent mafioso). And then there’s the to-do over the Northeast’s succession from greater Philadelphia, a political imbroglio that links Twinka in unholy partnership with unctuous local ward leader Liza Edelson-Ross.

Clearly this is a play for the locals. With enough inspiration, it might have done for the Great Northeast what Tale of the Allergist’s Wife is doing for New York’s Upper West Side. There are a handful of terrific one-liners.

But the initial good humor wears thin, and there’s no character development or complexity to compensate. Director Pryor has whipped much of the acting into shrill stereotypes, with everyone shouting punch lines at the audience. Under the circumstances, it’s hard to fault the cast. Barbara Winters Pinto does best as the mother — it’s a one-note role, but she’s amusing (and not on the stage long enough to overstay her welcome). As Twinka, Jilline Ringle has to overcome a hideous wig that makes her look like a drag queen — why, when she would have been ideal if allowed to be her sardonic, sexy self? The rest do what they can. Some of the better jokes are sight- and sound-gags emanating from Nick Embree’s set and Tobin Rothlein’s music design, for which kudos to both of them.

—David Anthony Fox