The holidays are a great time for chestnuts, roasted and otherwise, as evidenced in the Milwaukee Repertory Theater's production of Arsenic and Old Lace. As the name so aptly implies, this subversive comedy of the 1940s can still offer plenty of crackle and pop for modern audiences. Director James Pickering has chosen to set the play firmly in its original 1941 time period. There's an early conversation about the war, of course, as well as some of the hardships it has brought to the lives of those who reside in an idyllically peaceful Brooklyn neighborhood. While one might imagine an updated version of the play peppered with dialogue about Alzheimer's, therapy and various medications, there's none of that new-fangled awareness in this production. The play is set in a Victorian-themed house, owned by two slightly ditsy older sisters. They also live with -- and look after -- a nephew who's convinced he's Teddy Roosevelt. His younger brother, Mortimer, comes for frequent visits. He's intent on marrying a parson's daughter, but his journey to the altar takes a sudden detour when he uncovers an alarming fact about his aunts. It seems their desire to do good works includes ending the lives of lonely old men who arrive at their doorstep. They do the deed with hospitality and grace, of course, offering the men a glass of elderberry wine laced with poison. With Teddy's help, they manage to bury the bodies in the basement.
Nobody suspects a thing, and the sisters are sweetly oblivious to their crime. In fact, when Mortimer confronts the aunts and calls their act "murder," the women are indignant. While all this plays out smoothly under James Pickering's able direction, there's little suspense after this "shocking" event is revealed. To be honest, one can find far more tantalizing revelations on TV talk shows.
It's hard to stay focused on the plot. Another minor gripe involves casting police officers as bumbling Keystone Kops, which seems rather unpatriotic at the moment. Another gripe involves Mortimer's dialogue, which includes numerous dated references. Mortimer is a drama critic, and his dialogue is peppered with references to plays and actors. Lines involving Judith Anderson or Hellzapoppin', for instance, may have elicited big laughs in 1941, but they don't get much more than a "huh?" from today's audiences. (Many of the Rep's season ticket holders fall into the age category where these references have some meaning. But on opening night, they didn't get even an appreciative chuckle from the gray-haired crowd.) This is none the fault of the excellent cast, which is strong across the board.
As the two sisters, Laurie Birmingham and Rose Pickering set the tone. They are cunningly sweet and absolutely deadly. James Pickering (the director) makes an early but memorable appearance as the benevolent preacher. As his daughter, Dana Slamp is letter-perfect in her 1940s looks and manner. She is feminine, to be sure, but she's also got some snap. It's easy to see why she draws Mortimer's interest. The always-watchable Brian Vaughn is dashing as Mortimer. His evil older brother, Jonathan, is beautifully realized in Jonathan Smoots. Makeup and talent have rendered a faithful reproduction of Boris Karloff, the actor whom Jonathan is supposed to resemble. Smoots has even perfected Frankenstein's growl, which he uses to great advantage. Jonathan's keeper, the goofy Dr. Einstein (no, not THAT Einstein, as is repeated a number of times during repeated introductions), is wonderful in the hands of actor Lee Ernst. He perfectly captures Einstein's droopy manner and German accent. His wrestling match with a corpse is a highlight of physical comedy. No less inspiring is Torrey Hanson, also a dead ringer for his character as a young Teddy Roosevelt. In his daffily deluded state, every climb up the staircase is a charge up San Juan Hill. Hanson wreaks every ounce of comic effect from his performance.
The odd nature of Arsenic is carried right to the end. The audience expects a perfectly happy ending, which is certainly not to be. By this time, however, one can excuse the characters' eccentricities, and all is probably as it should be. Set designer Bill Clarke deserves credit for mentally transporting the audience into a gorgeously designed Victorian home. Dawna Gregory's costumes also seem richly crafted.
