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September 2003 |
Steve Martin's adaptation of German satirist Carl Sternheim's 1910 comedy "Die Hose." is, for the most part, some pretty low brow comedy. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but on a stage where we are used to seeing productions which are a bit more on the refined side, it was refreshing in a way to witness an actor stride forth in the middle of the third act and proclaim for no apparent reason, "I've been out drinking all night and seem to have a bout of runny diarrhea." Lines such as this and the accompanying rash of cuckoldry and "hide the sausage" jokes that pepper Martin's dialog, make for some fairly randy foot stomping times. And all the result of the untimely appearance of the leading lady's undergarments. For anyone familiar with Martin's work it is easy to see why he chose to adapt this play about the sprightly but caged in new housewife Louise and the hubbub she causes when her unmentionables drop to her ankles as she stands in a window watching the Kaiser pass by outside. This seemingly minor offense threatens to scandalize her priggish government clerk of a husband, Theo, who predicts that the appearance of his wife's panties will ruin him and thereby jeopardize his mundane respectability not to mention threatening his plans to rent out the couple's spare room to raise some extra cash. The room however becomes a hot property when two suitors who spotted the indiscretion of the bloomers begin attempting to infiltrate the household just to be closer to the young, and soon, eager to be seduced bride. One of them is the dashing poet Versati, who is "unpublished, proud to say" and, as it turns out, is more interested in using Louise to inspire his work then to actually consummate any deal with her. The other is Cohen with a K, a pathetic sniveling Jewish barber, racked with infirmities and determined to play foil to the poet and the husband both, while writhing at the feet of Louise in the meantime hoping to get another glimpse up her skirt. Throw in the busybody and appropriately salacious neighbor lady upstairs, a constipated visiting scientist, and an appearance by the Kaiser himself, and the dwelling is soon virtually bursting at the seams with innuendo, word play, Germanic overbearing, and a debate over the value of art versus rote duty in society. Also included is much commentary on the working class, gender roles, the hidden power of a woman's wares and some spotlighted references to anti-Semitism. Like Nora in The Doll's House, Louise is ahead of her time as she rebels against a husband so busy braying about what makes a "man" that he is nearly cuckolded under his own roof by those that he lectures. While Martin's script is chock full of bawdy jokes as he utilizes a constant flow of sexual innuendo and scatology in a machine gun approach to humor, much of it is a bit too obvious to be very funny. On the other hand, we found ourselves laughing out loud more often then we would have had we merely read the script due to the actor's well timed delivery and the sheer physical comedy going on down on the stage. And again, when a character dressed in a topcoat and bowler stomps in off the street and delivers a line like "I'm constipated, but that's my business." out of nowhere, and from the same space where we heard cries of "Stella, Stella" echo from the rafters just a few weeks ago, we've got to appreciate it for what it is. We can only wonder what we would have thought of the production had we not known that Martin was behind it as it was hard at times not to picture all the dialog coming out of his own mouth. Versati especially seemed Martinesque which is not a bad thing at all but merely served to remind, during the brief respite from jokes about penis length, of the man with the pen behind the scenes. The Underpants is refreshing in many ways and not a bad way to spend an evening but don't expect the kind of comedy that will make you think about it for much longer than it takes to walk to your vehicle after the show.
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