Remaining performances April 10 at 7 p.m. and April 9, 14, 15 & 16 at 8 p.m. at 118 Court St., New Haven.
By Steve Martin. Produced by New Haven Theatre Co. Directed by Hilary Brown. Performed by Steve Scarpa (Freddy), John Watson (Gaston), Hallie Martensen (Germaine), Jeremy Funke (Einstein), Megan Chenot (Suzanne, Countess, Admirer), J. Kevin Smith (Sagot), Peter Chenot (Pablo), Erich Greene (Schmendiman, April 8-10 perfs.), Christian Shaboo (Schendiman, April 14-16), Michael Smith (Visitor).
Man walks into a bar. He’s mulling the defining physical theory of the universe. Painter gets drawn in too. He’s Picasso, damn it! Then a mysterious jumpsuited sneering man from the future materializes, and all heaven breaks loose.
It’s not like it never comes around, but somehow I haven’t seen (or read) Picasso in the Lapin Agile since its first national tour back in 1997. That production featured Paul Provenza (currently a cultural hero of mine for his counterculture comedian-interview compendium Satiristas!) and Mark Nelson (one of the treasures of the New York and regional stage, known at New Haven’s Long Wharf for everything from Arms and the Man to Underneath the Lintel to A Doll’s House) and played the Stamford Center for the Arts’ Rich Forum—which, while a cool venue, rarely got first national tours of ANYTHING. It was odd enough, even 14 years ago, to see straight plays get major tours; the Steve Martin imprimatur definitely helped. The production, I remember, had a lush set, a sound design that made some of the gags especially loud and fierce, and unexpected special effects spectacle.
Which may be what one does when one wants to puff up a play to earn a slot on a “Best of Broadway” subscription series made this short, frenzied. But is it really required? Picasso in the Lapin Agile has had its fancy productions at regional theaters since, but I like the human scale it’s found in this community-based rendition by the New Haven Theater Company, at a temporarily fixed-up storefront at 118 Court Street (a block behind City Hall).
NHTC has a core group of players who have worked out regularly in improv revues. They, and whipsmart director Hilary Brown, understand that the incessant art-history jokes and frequent fourth-wall-breaking digressions in the script only work if they’re raced through fast enough that you laugh in recognition or in surprise but aren’t allowed to ponder too long.
This is not a slow-burn, reaction-shot-after-every-riposte kind of show. This is all-right-what-happens-next? kind of show. The cast gets right on with it. The script never really settles—like Martin’s ‘80s stand-up and early films, it’s more concerned with comedy timing than character development. The play ostensibly treads the same turf as Tom Stoppard’s brilliant Travesties, asking what it must have been like to be physically present at the birth of what we know now to have been an historic new era. In Travesties, a dull diplomat interacts with Vladmir Lenin, James Joyce and Tristin Tzara in WWI-time Switzerland. In Picasso at the Lapin Agile, a bartender, his girlfriend and a regular customer with a bladder problem interact with Pablo Picasso, Albert Einstein and a hip-wiggling visitor from the future.
Martin hones some thoughtful dialogue about the creative process, the cultural incentives of becoming an artist, the unique thought process of physicists, and the vicissitudes of immortal fame. But these insights are not allowed to take root, or to distract from the constant zaniness. Picasso at the Lapin Agile is way too conscious of being a play to let any humanity grow within its colorful set. Actors comment on which order they appear in the printed program, ask forgiveness for the cheap exit lines they use in order to leave the stage and further the plot, and otherwise inform us continuously that they are actors in a play. Which helps steer you towards what this play really is—a comic discursion on form and content, on reality and artifice, on history and humdrum, which questions its own foundations and validity at the same time it examines the worth and relevance and timelessness of some of the best known people in the 20th century.
The jokes are fast and furious and often precious, and the NHTC cast understands that they shouldn’t act too smart and shouldn’t ever slow down. You can’t call the results exactly even, in a stylistic sense—these are individuals of varying talents fighting for attention, and that’s pretty much what the script is about—but to director Brown’s immense credit, nobody gets left behind in the daffy dust kicked up by principle performers Jeremy Funke as Albert Einstein (who paces deliciously), Peter Chenot as Picasso (who has the rare, and in this case crucial, ability to smolder and seem silly at the same time) and Steve Scarpa (the blowhard bartender who both sets the show’s raucous rat-a-tat pace and has to interrupt it most often with “it’s only a play” gags). There are lots of jokes at the expense of women (one of the reasons why a high school production of this play in Oregon was challenged a few years ago), but Hallie Martenson (as the bartender’s girlfriend) and Megan Chenot (as a Picasso groupie and several other flighty female presences) give as good as they get. It’s also nice to see veteran local small theater talent such as John Watson and J. Kevin Smith grab hold of great supporting roles and add to the general mirth.
The bluster is constant, and at its height the show feels like a spirited improv comedy competition held in a college Humanities class. Which is what community-based theater often means in a city such as New Haven. Picasso at the Lapin Agile is a great choice with which to continue rebuilding the fortunes of New Haven Theatre Co., which has been around for something like 15 years under several distinct managements. (I directed a show for the company myself over a decade ago.) A smart yet brassy comedy that brings the crowd into the fun is an art you don’t have to argue about. If you do choose to unwind and discuss the show afterwards, here’s one more cool community-building aspect: the Olde School Saloon and Bistro a block away at 418 State St. has created a Lapin Agile cocktail (supposedly laced with absinthe) in the show’s honor, and brandishing your theater program at the bar will get you half-price drink.