Urinetown is a silly, overacted, melodramatic, musical political satire that is pure excessive hilarity. The talented cast of North Coast Repertory Theatre’s incarnation of the show understands the assignment and creates an entirely entertaining evening of must-see theater. The surface of this production is stupid, stereotypical theater complete with puns, gags, terrible writing and an onslaught of allusions to every over-produced theater piece in the last 50 years, and it’s perfectly brilliant in that self-realization. In fact, it’s this unrepentant acceptance that allows the show to dazzle while its more meaningful themes are sprayed throughout like a clown’s squirting flower prop attached to a firehose.
The opening night performance saw a confident cast prepped and primed to tickle their audience whether they liked it or not (we liked it). Even the drab, gray and highly geometric set (Calder Johnson and Brian Butler) adorned with punished actors tortured with anticipation to use the bathroom becomes sadistically humorous as the show’s start approaches. Director Nanette Voss creates the perfect introduction in this preshow; it’s a dismal and abstract world made funny by the absurdity of the people’s disposition. A severe drought and drop in the water table leads to the ban of private bathrooms. Everyone now must pay to use public restrooms owned by Caldwell B. Cladwell (David Powell) or face being sent to the notorious Urinetown. Any questions and inconsistencies are narrated through by Officer Lockstock (Tina Toomata) and Little Sally (Lily Herlihy). To attain more profit, Cladwell conspires with Senator Fipp (Meaghan Sharrard) to raise the bathroom rates. As the situation becomes more, uh, urgent, purveyors of porcelain, like Pennywise (Alex Blouin), face an uprising lead by Bobby Strong (River Keller), who falls in love with Calwell’s daughter Hope (Jessi Shieman). It’s love, pee and politics with a great band (Justin Ross, Jeremy Cotton, Amber Grimes, Matt Eastabrook and Gina Piazza), eclectic tinkle dance choreography (Shawn Wagner), and a plenty of guffaws.
The challenge of this show is to root the barmy in believability. It is the difference between watching people act silly (which could be fun but mostly annoying) and believing people are wholeheartedly silly (which is captivating as the annoyance transforms to entertainment). Voss simultaneously grounds the actors in a believable base then pushes everyone to the extreme states driven by their preposterous circumstances.
It is extremely challenging but pays off. I am a huge fan of Toomata and have waited to see her in more substantial roles. Her ability to effortlessly play comedy out of nothing is a joy to watch. I wonder if she knows how good she really is. I’ve written before that Herlihy is a star — this role is only different in that she is embodying the confidence of one and subsequently shines brighter than I’ve seen. Blouin’s ability to play every moment in real time is masterful; where less skillful actors rehearse to solidify what they are going to do, she rehearses to solidify character so that whatever moment arises, she is always consistent in her ever-changing, omnipresent and impeccable truth. Sharrard’s physical commitment to her character is so impressively believable people won’t question if her armpits are sore (as they probably are) after her performance, which includes lavish arm gestures. Powell is brilliant, though surrounded by such high stakes and outlandishness, he surprisingly gets obscured at times. I wanted to see him more extreme in his characterization and exude the power that I’ve seen in other work.
Shieman and Keller’s chemistry was lost to me. Their initial love duet could have a clearer objective that will establish the spark needed for later scenes. Are they indifferently trying to woo each other, sharing despair or just happy to sing to each other? Nonetheless, they individually had incredible moments; particularly in a quasi-gospel number and an effortless kicking away of a chair that binds, that leads to some beautiful vocals. Kudos to the ensemble. It is your work and creation of this world that is the heart of this piece and forces actors to rise to the level that you create. It is some of the best ensemble work that I have had the pleasure of seeing. Vocals, energy, engagement, characters and texture are all-star.
This production staff also rises to the excellence and creates a unified front. The costumes by Megan Hughes have all the hidden detail (two different colored laces on shoes and rings around expensive buttons, for example) that I love about her designs. However, I’d love to see some of the griminess of the city reflected in the pieces to create a starker juxtaposition with the elite. (Not a single pee stain?) Spike Foster’s lighting design is beautiful. Actors finding their light would reinforce that. Though it may appear there are some lights that could be refocused, a 4-inche shift stage left or stage right is the responsibility of the actors, and some of the perceived “holes” create a beautiful texture. I love the angles of the dynamic set. It is interesting, functional, beautiful and so good. But again, why no stains?
If you want a night of raucous laughter and pure, joyful entertainment, go see this production. You know what? Even if you don’t want that, go see it anyway because you will not be disappointed and it may cure whatever funk you may be in.
NCRT’s production of Urinetown continues at the 5th and D Street Theater through June 8 with performances Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m., and on Sundays at 2 p.m. May 18 is a masked matinee. Visit ncrt.net or call (707) 442-6278.
Tiggerbouncer Custodio (he/she/they) is an empowered queer Indigenous Filipino artist whose works have been seen on Humboldt stages and elsewhere.
COMING SOON
Check into The Starlite Inn May 22-24 for a gritty, adult psychological drama at the Arcata Veterans Hall. Call (707) 599-4761.
Ferndale Repertory Theatre’s production of 9 to 5 the Musical clocks in May 30 to June 22. Call (707) 786-5483 or visit ferndalerep.org.
This article appears in ‘Fire Teaches Us Many Lessons’.