Virtuoso escapism artists

Ira Brooker recently wrote a great piece about reviving classics like The Wizard of Oz: seeing the production at the Children’s Theater, he was torn between enjoying a faithful adaptation of the original movie and wishing there was more room for innovation. I was worried I’d feel the same way about The Cocoanuts, based on a 1929 Marx Brothers movie, which just opened at the Guthrie. Given the Guthrie’s love of a good crowd-pleaser, I feared that its revival of what is essentially 90-year-old fluff would feel trivial, irrelevant, and desperate for innovation.

But after spending a week being inundated with news about tragedy, violence, and struggle, both internationally and outside the 4th precinct police station in Minneapolis, nothing felt more relevant and necessary than being able to laugh for no reason.

This production, which has been imported from the 2014 Oregon Shakespeare Festival, is theatrical comfort food at a virtuoso level. The actors playing Groucho, Harpo, and Chico (Mark Bedard, Brent Hinkley, and John Tufts) were all in the original OSF production as well, so not only are their ensemble bits seamless, but so are their Marx Brothers impersonations. When Bedard first appeared as Groucho on Friday night, a ripple of pleased recognition spread through the audience – this is no cheap knockoff; the trio has gotten as close to the real deal as they could possibly get.

Like clockwork, but funny

And it turns out that unlike the Wizard of Oz, which many of us could practically recite by heart, such a faithful revival of the Marx Brothers actually feels refreshing. They have a brand of humor that we don’t see much of these days: unlike much of the satirical, raunchy, or self-deprecating humor today’s audiences are used to, Cocoanuts gives us comedy for comedy’s sake. Rather than trying to shock audiences, win their sympathy, or make a point, the Marx Brothers rely on the power of bad puns and exquisitely-timed physical comedy to elicit laughs.

And since Cocoanuts is also a musical, putting together all the singing, dancing, sight gags, one-liners, music, lights and set is like assembling a perfect clockwork mechanism. Old-timey comedies like this take a rare degree of skill to really pull off, and this production hits each note perfectly.

Of course, the original OSF actors have had time to hone their characters and perfect their on-stage rapport, but as a transplanted production, they have also successfully built a cohesive ensemble with the local actors. The big production numbers are seamless, and there isn’t a weak point among the entire cast. Justin Keyes and Cat Brindisi bring a sweet and kind of nerdy chemistry to their characters’ on-stage romance, while Paul de Cordova and Ann Michels are pleasantly villainous in their scheming. And thanks to Trent Armand Kendall’s unerring ability to take his buffoonish character seriously, even the smaller role of Detective Hennessy is turned into one of the funnier bits in an already ridiculous show.

Everything works

I could take a moment here to sum up the plot, but no one watches a Marx Brothers show for the plot, do they? You go for the groaners, the slapstick, and the improv. There are certainly non-stop bad jokes, which Groucho readily acknowledges as he reads the audience’s reactions, and the cast’s physical abilities are at times awe-inspiring, both in the dance routines and the physical comedy. Brent Hinkley is especially lovable in the silent role of Harpo, who can apparently steal anything.

And as for improv, there were moments on Friday where I had to do a mental double-take: some of the bits were so finely-tuned that they didn’t even register as improvised until after the fact, and the actors’ interactions with spectators in the front row are carried off so gamely that you’d almost think there were audience plants.

This kind of comedy is so tight that it feels like watching a perfectly-choreographed dance routine, and the Guthrie certainly has the resources to pull it off without a hitch. The musicians are top-notch, Richard L. Hay’s has designed some large, brightly-colored set items that somehow appear and disappear with ease, and Jaclyn Miller’s choreography is big and goofy, but with the precise timing of a good punchline. Marcus Doshi’s lighting design deserves a special mention – there are often a number of different things happening on stage, and yet it is never a challenge to figure out where to look.

Everything about this show is bright, joyful, and unashamed of a good, cheesy laugh. It is almost a relief to be able to drop all pretenses and settle in for two and a half hours of giggles. Like I said, this show is the ultimate theatrical comfort food: while it feels a bit luxurious to consume it while facing political upheaval on all sides, The Cocoanuts certainly does hit the spot.