Comedic ‘Scapino’ is a tour-de-farceBy Paul Kolas Telegram and Gazette Reviewer STURBRIDGE— What a flexible, liberated farce "Scapino" was on Saturday night. And such a lovable rascal the title character is. Stageloft Theater’s "Commedia del Arte" production is a cockeyed wonder, a comedy that assails you with its high spirits and good-natured anarchy. From the moment one takes a seat, before the show actually begins, gazing admiringly at director Edward Cornely’s brightly adorned depiction of a seaside Italian restaurant, the audience is accosted in a most delightful way. Boisterous waitresses pass out dinner menus with such "delectable" appetizers as "The Big Cheese" ("provolone, romano and feta served on a slab of pecorino"), and "mouth-watering" entrees like "Pasta Florentine" ("cooked Al Dente in the unfiltered waters of the Arno River and served with butter and a hint of Florentine Gold"). That should give you an idea of what sort of interactive buffoonery you're in for in Frank Dunlop and Jim Dale's version of Moliere's original 1671 tale of a con man of a servant uniting young lovers at the expense of their fathers' pocketbooks. Argente (Neal Martel) and Geronte (Robert Latino) are outraged that their sons have married for love instead of money, without their consent. Argente's son, Ottavio (Robert Killeen), is in love with Giacinta (Bethany Killeen), while Geronte's son, Leandro (Dan Lindgren), is smitten with the "gypsy" Zerbinetta (Nicole Marchand). When the boys pour out their troubled hearts to their guardians, Scapino (Ken Durand) and Sylvestro (Tina Pugliese), Scapino sees a golden opportunity to serve the cause of young love, appease the dads, and make some lira along the way. Using the less quick-witted Sylvestro as his accomplice, Scapino swindles Argente out of 200,000 lira. That's what it will take to keep Giacinta's brother from wringing Ottavio's neck for marrying his sister. Or so says Scapino, who then tells Geronte it's going to require a 500,000 lira ransom to return Leandro safely from Turks at sea. It seems like Argente is getting a bargain. Adding to the nonsense are relentlessly digressive asides, including the observation by Argente that Barack Obama loves Milano Cookies while Hillary Clinton doesn't, and that someone in the audience is better looking than Justin Timberlake. Such "observations" will no doubt change with each performance. It's hard to imagine a group of actors having more of a good time than this one, and Cornely lets them have free reign with the impromptu-friendly script and then some. Durand is a pliant marvel as Scapino, toying with the audience as well as his prey onstage. He's the only one who doesn't use a mock Italian accent, but it feels appropriate. He's both a character in and out of the material, an Olympian prankster running circles around the competition, the Wily Coyote to everyone else's Yosemite Sam. He gets the gold medal for convincing the befuddled Geronte to climb inside a sack to hide from pirates, martial arts Asians and finally the British Army, while beating him with a hard sausage. Improbable and hilarious. Everyone hams it up with tongue-firmly-in-cheek flair. Martel and Latino make excellent bait for Durand's cunning with their patriarchal bombast. Both Killeens, Lindgren and Marchand act their lovers roles with exclamatory ardor. If this were a Marx Brothers movie, Pugliese would be Harpo (with a voice of course) to Durand's Groucho. Or a more adorable version of "The Godfather's" Luca Brasi. Take your pick. Either way, she delivers a winning performance. Conor Provost’s Carlo and Cecile d’Entremont's Nurse fit well into the merriment. The waitresses (Christine Taylor, Stacie Beland, Jamie Cloutier and Lacey Melanson) all-a deserve-a big-a tip. |