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How do you compensate for complete embarrassment?
Why, with public humiliation, of course. Of other people, certainly.
That is the service the Southwest Rural Theatre Project — somewhat shortened to “SWRTP” — provides with “Love Rides the Rails or Will the Mail Train Run Tonight?” The company’s fairly squalid space is nestled quaintly in the war zone, and it produces mainly manic melodramas for a cold, uncaring world.
The program outright lies to you when it claims the show is a “fast-paced hilariously classic melodrama.” The show clocks in at the completely unacceptable two-and-a-half-hour mark, with the half before intermission only making up an hour of that time.
The phrase “hilariously classic” is bound to turn heads, as well.
Is it supposed to be funny specifically because it’s traditional? Does that automatically make it funny? Is it so classic, it’s funny?
There is, however, plenty to laugh at in LRTRoWTMTRT at SWRTP, albeit unintentionally.
Lines are botched, entrances are missed, cues are dropped like crazy exes. The set changes are so mind-bogglingly slow and clumsy, it truly becomes funny. The scenes are many, and usually quite short. Yet the complexity of moving so many ugly backdrops at a semiconstant rate with long sticks was unnecessary and failed on every level. Once, because too much time had already been wasted, a backdrop was simply left in a heap at the top of the stage, and the next scene began.
Audience participation is greatly encouraged, and this highly compensates for the drag of the play and general lack of interest.
You’re asked to fawn audibly for the young heroine, cheer for the hero and boo violently at the villains while pelting them with marshmallows, which the theater joyously offers up in little sandwich bags.
I was amused by the concept, which I heard about before attending, and came prepared with the largest marshmallows I could find — about the size of baby skulls. But as the play dragged on and on, something dark and uncomfortable arose from the chaos. The booing seemed fun at first, but quickly lost its charm. The actors were allowed to throw marshmallows back if they caught them, sort of in the manner of dodgeball, though when they did, they came as malicious fastballs screaming violently into the audience. Soon, it was more of a snowball grudge match than a play. The actors clearly did not enjoy the interactions, as they were often hit in the face and had trouble getting out their lines. The French maid character even flipped the bird at one point, in a rather embarrassing lack of self-control.
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It gets old fast. It hardly matters what happens in the 150 minutes; anything can get old and tired after that long.
But what was the play about? It’s really hard to say.
Apparently, two gay men, spurned by society, attempt to destroy the train company of a small Western town. Simon Darkway, played by Chris Boros, manipulates events using Carmen-style seductress Carlotta, played by Devony Wilhite, and his annoying crony, played by Robert Lee, who’s a bit impossible to understand. It’s unclear why the scheming French maid is in the play, and the scenes between her and the crony are some of the most irritating and grating things imaginable. Darkway uses his seductress to break up the engagement of bright, pure, two-dimensional hero Truman Pendennis, played by Tito Dameron, and heroine Prudence Hopewell, played by Rona Wright. Carlotta’s only goal appears to be sex with Darkway, and after she does his bidding, she returns to him for her promised reward. Darkway, remembering that sex with women disgusts him, rejects Carlotta, failing to live up to his bargain.
Carlotta then attempts to undo the damage she has done to the town.
So the show claims to be a comedy of some kind, though really, that’s a bit debatable. Boros and Wilhite both exhibit fine comic timing, and they are easily the best in the show. Dameron, too, has a natural sense of the ridiculousness of his role and plays it well. The hero has a sidekick named Harold Stanfast, played by Logan Garvey. At first, Garvey’s inexperience and nervousness were clear, and seemed more distracting than anything else. Ultimately, his odd deliveries and awkward movement added such an unexpected timing to his lines that he became one of the most enjoyable parts of the play.
But the true saving grace of the play is the live music, played by Phyllis Sanchez on her keyboard. Her gently twinkling sounds drift through the scenes, giving them appropriate and necessary support while preventing too much boredom or too many aneurysms in audience members.
Despite these glimmers of interest, they seem more like excuses than boons. The production lacks professionalism on every conceivable level. However, if you want to take part in a gladiatorial stoning, there are worse places to spend your time.
