Fuddy Meers
Written by David Lindsay-Abaire
Directed by James Whittington
at City Lit Theatre, 1020 W. Bryn Mawr (map)
thru Dec 8 | tickets: $20 | more info
Check for half-price tickets
Watching losers lose
Ka-Tet Theatre presents
Fuddy Meers
Review by Lawrence Bommer
Long before he wrote his justly praised Good People (now compelling Steppenwolf audiences), David Lindsay-Abaire concocted Fuddy Meers, a quirky character comedy that at times resembles a cruel cartoon, then suddenly redeems its toxically whimsical characters, making us care instead of cackle at their complications.
This is one of those pseudo-catastrophic romps where one problem piles on another in a kind of comic scrum. A director has to enforce major discipline on his caricaturing actors in order to keep the crises coherent, rather than have them bleed over each other in the kind of sloppy overkill. Alas, a barrage of incomprehensible, cacophonous nonsense ruins the first act ending of Ka-Tet Theatre Company‘s otherwise competent revival.
At the center of the manufactured mayhem is Claire (deliberately daffy Kathryrn Bartholomew), an amnesiac victim who every morning must recreate her forgotten identity by means of a starter’s manual assembled by her second husband Richard (Giuseppe A. Ribaudo). This morning Claire’s life erupts with too much incident: She’s kidnapped by a trio of pathetic/vicious, idiotic ex-cons—a limping and burned arsonist (Andrew Marchetti) who has played a terrible part in Claire’s all-but-erased past, a control-freak crook (Stevie Chaddock Lambert) who masquerades as a claustrophobic cop, and a simpleton (David Cady) who uses his hand puppet to blurt out the nasty truth about his partners in crime.
These irritating numbskulls terrorize Gertie, Claire’s mother (Daria T. Harper), a cerebral hemorrhage victim who speaks in “stroke talk.” (“Funhouse mirrors” becomes “fuddy meers.”) Lost in gibberish, her frantic attempts to foment the baddy guys are played for laughs. But, like much here, there’s hardly a dime’s difference between the playwright’s mockery and real pain.
Searching for Claire are Richard and his sulking, toking son Kenny (Kewvin Lambert). The inevitable confrontation at Gertie’s home congeals into a clumsy tangle of gunshots, shovel swatting, even an attack with frozen bacon.
Despite its contrived cuteness, Fuddy Meers is a very sad sitcom, the fragments of Claire’s brain suggested by abstract sound baffles designed by Chad Bianchi. But it has one redeeming grace: Lindsay-Abaire’s depiction of how short-term-memory Claire doggedly tries to reclaim her past and restore her brain has its poignant side. She’s riding the rapids of consciousness and it takes her back as much as forward. Unfortunately, though it refuses to condescend to these nasty zanies, James Whittington’s manic staging is pointlessly pell-mell: It never takes time for the bittersweet. Luckily there’s a much better Lindsay-Abaire show in town to see as soon as possible.
Rating: ★★
Fuddy Meers continues through December 8th at City Lit Theatre, 1020 W. Bryn Mawr (map), with performances Thursday thru Friday at 7:30pm, Saturdays at 2:30pm and 7:30pm, Sundays 2:30pm. Tickets are $20, and are available online through BrownPaperTickets.com (check for half-price tickets at Goldstar.com). More information at katettheatre.com.
Photos by Andrew Cioffi
artists
cast
Kathryrn Bartholomew, Giuseppe A. Ribaudo, Andrew Marchetti, Stevie Chaddock Lambert, David Cady, Daria T. Harper, Kewvin Lambert
behind the scenes
James Whittington (director); Andrew Cioffi (photos); Chad Bianchi (sound design)
