Entering playwright David Lindsay-Abaire's world, the world of Claire (Kaly McKenna), is a challenge. She is an amnesiac who awakes every morning with a clean slate . . . no memories at all. Hmm, this could be good sometimes. The play is called Fuddy Meers, which is the way Gertie (Marcee Chipman), a sixties-something stroke victim, pronounces the funhouse's "funny mirrors."
And "Fuddy Meers" is exactly what the story is about. Each day Richard (Sven Salumaa), the man she knows not, but is her husband, reads to her from a book he has created about her life. Her 17-year-old son, Kenny (Calvin Michaels) is, himself, a troubled boy who gets pulled over by Heidi (Rachel Bishop), a cop with an attitude accentuated when Kenny grabs her gun away from her.
Rounding out this collection of misfits is a classic case of a person who should be destined for the funny farm. Millet (James E. Steinberg) has communication deficit disorder. His primary means of speaking is through Hinky Binky, his foul-mouthed hand puppet. The Limping Man, Zach (Joe Solazzo), Claire's husband before Richard, is deformed.
Fuddy Meers is a play of discovery, Claire's discovery as more and more of her past is either revealed or remembered. It is one of the most intriguing experiences in contemporary theater (the work was first performed ten years ago in Manhattan). Just when you feel they know everything, a final twist enhances your experience with this interesting group of people.
Director Steve Murdock's interpretation of the script appears right on. His cast, without exception, understand their characters, providing us with insight into each. Claire's transition from blank slate to understanding works very well. Solazzo's Limping Man may lead one to nightmares. Claire's current husband, Richard, is definitely not exactly honest and true.
Chipman had to learn an almost unintelligible language that Gertie speaks. Of course, some characters are not what they present themselves as. A classic case is the cop named Heidi. As with most teenagers, Kenny proves to be more wise than any give him credit for.
It is Steinberg and his sidekick (or is that handkick?), Binky, who occasionally steals, the spotlight. Millet, through Binky, is the voice of reason, the truth-sayer that tries to get through to the confused Claire. It is also one of the finest acting jobs as Steinberg convincingly transitions from Millet to Hinky Binky.
