Look-alikes generate outrageous plot twists. Madcap chase sequences fast-forward mayhem. Exaggerated reactions freeze-frame the obvious. Villainy and virtue are one-dimensional.
Practically every comic device known to mankind figures into Village Theatre’s “Gypsy King” farce structured along the lines of 1930s and ’40s musicals.
Yet, as processed through the magic that is Village, watching is like space-traveling to a planet over the rainbow. This “Gypsy King” skyrockets.
Basically, a straight-arrow son, with a head-in the-clouds dad, both actors living hand to mouth, are traveling from town to town entertaining village folk when the kings’ men happen upon them.
Dumbfounded by the son’s uncanny resemblance to the prince and heir-apparent, the king’s men detain, then escort father and son to the royal palace where developments plunge them into a plot to assassinate the prince.
From there on, it is all complications and clowns on parade, less original than conceived and executed to entertain for entertainment’s sake.
Shakespeare, Dumas and who knows how many others in how many ways, have played off the look-alike thing. Doesn’t matter, Randy Rogel’s book, music and lyrics fit it in for stage. Richard Gray’s directing fits it in for performance. And the proof is in the pudding with Eric Ankrim, as both Fredrick the son and Alfonse the prince, performing look-alikes to almost unbelievable effect.
How Ankrim, behind a sheet of curtain and at breakneck speed, slips costumes off and on while shifting characters between Fredrick and Alfonse is real show-highlighting razzle-dazzle, like vaudeville in its heyday. Imagine: now the soul of truth-seeking, now the soul of self-serving, instant after instant.
You gotta ask yourself if Richard Ziman is, at minimum, a practical joker offstage. Ziman obviously so delights as the evil-doer conspiring to capture the throne for himself.
Adding that soft, heart-warming touch that is a trademark of musical comedy are Mark Carr and Joanne Klein, the seniors who have been through it before and again are taking a chance on romance.
Picture America’s sweetheart, girl next door, Debbie Reynolds. See Katherine Strohmaier’s yang for Fredrick’s yin. It is the essence of all things good and innocent.
This is a cast of 18, backed by a first-class production team and orchestra, together mounting scenic, costuming and musical effects bigger than life. It is bold, brassy and a complete justification for total silliness.
Recommended for any and all who could a use a time out.
Reactions? Comments? E-mail Dale Burrows at entopinion@heraldnet.com or grayghost7@comcast.net.
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