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Nor am I comfortable with the shuttling back and forth across the millennia, scampering to the Holy Land whenever McNally senses that his latter-day messiah needs a fresh fix of holiness. If we're zeroing in on today's homophobic hate crimes, we probably shouldn't be dipping into the Gospels' toolbox and resurrecting crucifixion as the instrument of Jesus' martyrdom. That really isn't the abomination of choice for up-to-date bigots.
Aside from the languid Fire Island ambiance he creates with tons of beach sand, Hartness instills a very special camaraderie in his ensemble. So you may emerge from Off-Tryon a bit puzzled about what the new Jesus' message is and why McNally has delivered it in this form. Chances are you'll still be convinced that this ensemble has grasped the message completely and -- rightly or wrongly -- embraced it. That's pretty special. And powerful.
You never know where the next surprise is coming from when you watch a piece by Rupert Holmes. But it's coming soon. In Holmes's latest, Thumbs, now getting an "Exclusive World Preview" from The Actor's Theatre of Charlotte, one big surprise enters suddenly from stage right wearing a ski mask, wielding a meat cleaver. Others jump out of the mouths of Holmes's vain, predatory characters as finely shaped bon mots, puns, and wordplay.
Our story starts in a secluded Vermont hideaway with a showdown between an egotistical TV star and her spiteful ex-husband. She's keenly aware that she's at a crossroads in her career. "I'll be 40 last month," the glamorous Marta Dunhill purrs. But her ex is getting set to blackmail her with a seamy tell-all expose that will demolish her angelic TV image if published. "By the end of Chapter 1," Freddie Bradshaw boasts, "your career will be in Chapter 11."
Irresistible, aren't they?
But both do not survive. The murderer establishes an elaborate alibi and attempts to piggyback onto the work of an at-large serial killer, co-opting his gory trademark, lopping off the victim's thumbs with an electric knife.
Relative calm is restored with the arrival of the rustic constabulary. Sheriff Jane Morton, as portrayed by newcomer Laura Depta, sets up as a plumpish female Columbo with flecks of Mayberry's Sheriff Andy Taylor liberally tossed in. Her nephew Wilton Dekes, peeping out of a flop-eared deer-hunter's cap, comes across as a dumbed-down Barney Fife. Baring as many teeth as possible and mouth-breathing for all he's worth, Mark Scarboro scintillates in the role, looking like a slimmed-down Don Knotts.
The laughs, however, come full-sized.
With five Tony Awards for The Mystery of Edwin Drood in 1985, and an Edgar Award from the Mystery Writers of America for Accomplice, Holmes has repeatedly proven himself a consummate showman. As always, he's very clever in snatching away assumptions we make in Thumbs about who's who and what's what. Tricky too. Somewhat diabolically, Holmes sometimes deals from the bottom of the deck, having a character masquerade for us when the deception should be reserved for the consumption of other characters.
Chip Decker lavishes plenty of wood and paneling in his sturdy, tacky set design; and Hallie Gray points up the melodrama and the showbiz of Thumbs in her lighting. Lon Bumgarner directs at a brisk pace, sustaining the suspense without sacrificing the frothy, comical war of wits.
When this newborn mystery comedy reaches New York, it will ultimately be produced with a cast that fulfills Holmes's concept. Marta will likely be done by an instantly recognizable star with an outsized ego that fits like a glove. Cynthia Farbman, bless her, works hard and well at Marta -- but cannot deliver the requisite drop-dead beauty or the insouciant arrogance of the Tinsel Town icon. Likewise, Tom Scott is quite orotund as Freddie, but probably not very close to the scoundrel this playwright has in mind.
Muscular Bruce Edgar is the only weak link in the cast, not nearly waspish -- or West Coast -- enough as the murderer's boyfriend, Todd Monroe. But as Holmes adds memorably to the roster of fictional female crime solvers, it's nice to see him offering up a gay tennis pro in his rogues' gallery. And Edgar was fairly good letting loose with Todd's full flamboyance.
Our Vermont rustics are a dream. Depta's Sheriff Jane has an explosive intensity that's simply breathtaking. It probably wouldn't hurt if Bumgarner slowed the pace and demanded a folksier first impression, but that's a trifle. And Scarboro's Wilton is probably the best reason Holmes needs to come down to Charlotte before he opens this baby up in New York.
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An Evening With Phil Rosenthal Of "Somebody Feed Phil" @ Knight Theater
- Fri., April 19, 7 p.m.
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Kountry Wayne: The King Of Hearts Tour @ Ovens Auditorium
- Fri., April 19, 7:30 p.m.
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NEW WINDOW GALLERY-Pat Rhea-ACRYLIC PAINTINGS-April 05-30 2024 VALDESE, NC 28690 @ New Window Gallery/Play It Again Records
- Through April 30, 12 p.m.
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Trap & Paint + Karaoke @ Zodiac Bar & Grill
- Fridays, 8-10 p.m. Continues through June 28
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LIVE MUSIC FRIDAYS!!! @ Elizabeth Parlour Room
- Fridays, 8-11 p.m. Continues through June 28
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