| FOOLS, TinFish Theatre. The themes of comedy may
be as universal as those of tragedy, but they're often so tied to a particular
time and place as to be incomprhensible elsewhere. Yet Neil Simon
in the "comic Fable" of a village (obviously the famous Chelm of Jewish
folklore) liberated from the curse of cluelessness by a clever schoolmaster
forges from the ancient xenophobic tales a parable whose lessons resonate
with disturbing familiarity.
Simon - the master of the lightning-fast quip, who proved in the Good Doctor that even Chekhov can be funny nowadays - understandably devotes most of the script to a parter, relying on the proposition that foolish behavior is plentiful the world over. And the drollery of the local meshuggenim might easily tempt energetic young actos to self-indulgent scattershot slapstick. But the TinFish cast has taken care to ground even the most juvenile gags - a villain with a pronounced lisp, for example, and a shepherd whose voice squeaks a la Andy Devine - in clearly defined characters and precision-machined dialogue. The actors' obvious enthusiasm for thier material and ease with one another - rare in storefront productions, which are often underrehearsed - amplify Simon's humanitarian (but not utopian) plea for enlightenment through education, producing an infectious optimism sorely needed in this fin de siecle New Year. - Mary Shen Barnidge |
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By Richard Christiansen Tribune Chief Critic "Fools," Neil Simon's 1981 Broadway entry, is subtitled "a comic fable";
but for muc of its lenth, it might as well be called "an old vaudville
routine," something that Lewis and Clark, the octogenarian team of "The
Sunshine Boys," would have dreamed up in their heyday.
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Dumb and
Fools: A Comic Fable
By Byron Upton According to local legend, every attempt to educate these poor souls has proved too much of a risk for a succession of schoolteachers who soon realize that spending more than 24 hours within the town's bordiers will trap them in a similar state of cluelessness. However, the young and idealistic Leion Tolchinsky gives it the old college try. Assigned to the Zubritsky household, he's determined to break the curse by |
teaching the young and beautiful Sophia, who's taken 19
years to learn to sit in a chair. Complicating matters, he's fallen
in love with her even though the village's nobleman Gregor Yousekevitch
is dead set on winning her hand in marriage. The standoff between
the intelligent Leon and the soft-brained Gregor involves a convoluted
scheme in which Leon attempts to beat the clock and get the girl, adding
some necessary tension to the story.
Simon's screipt is basically a series of groan-inducing one-liners, hinted at by the set's signs, which display misspellings like "Clozd" and "Slovitch's Meet." For example, the butcher says to the postman, "Do I have any mail today?" and the reply is "I'm the postman. I have all the mail." Smehow the cast succeeds in pulling it off by bringing to life an amusing cast of supporting characters that offset the silly sentimenality of Leon and Sophia's courtship. David Booth's deliciously campy Snetsky and Kathryn Grady's daffy Yenchna are the best of the bunch, hamming it up with gusto. gary Saipe also earns some chuckles with his bug-eyed mad doctor persona as sophia's loving father. Jim Henry has the dubious honor of appearing in one of the most embarrassing costumes ever conceived (think of a Roman tunic designed by Liberace) as the hoplessly vain gregor. Acting as counterweight to these larger-than-life clowns is dan Kozlowski, in an endearing performance as Leon. If he comes across as a bit bland, it's mainly due to Simon's cheesy smirking asides and the dieous aw-shucks ending, which seems to imply that it's easier to fall in love with a woman if she's dumb and undemanding. As Leon's object of devotion, jennifer savarirayan is sweetly charming. |