The Barn Drops its Bloomers

This comment was overheard during intermission at Ross Valley Players’ new production, The Underpants: “I can certainly see Steve Martin’s influence.” Martin adapted this script from a 1911 work by German playwright Carl Sternheim, a social critic who liked to lampoon the bourgeoisie of his time. Not having access to Sternheim’s original, an audience can only guess where the original ends and the adaptation begins, and sometimes it isn’t hard. Which writer, for example, came up with all the fart jokes and weenie jokes? Which one devised the peculiar second act? Who’s responsible for the ending?

The Underpants’ story line is uncomplicated. Louise, a lovely young housewife goes to see the King in a parade, and just as the royal party is passing by, she loses her drawers. (They tied with ribbon in those days.) Not such a big thing, as she explains it. She simply stepped out of them, scooped them up and hid them. “No one saw me,” she assures Theo, her beyond-dull husband. Besides, anyone can see that the garment in question was a modest pair of bloomers, and the lady was entirely covered with a full-length skirt. Nonetheless, Theo is incensed about the incident, which he feels will ruin his mediocre bureaucratic ambitions. The fallen drawers are a sign of his wife’s general carelessness and inattention to detail, he rants, blah blah blah. Now they will never find a tenant to rent their spare room and add to the household income.

However, that turns out not to be the case. In short order, a Zorro-like character, Mr. Versati, swoops in to claim the room—and proximity to Louise. It seems he witnessed the incident and was captivated. Then, having accepted Versati’s deposit, Theo is also able to persuade a second renter to share the same space. This one, young Cohen the barber, (“That’s Cohen with a K,”) was lying on the grass nearby when the accident occurred and became entirely enchanted with the lady.

To add symbolism to the play, Theo keeps following the newspaper accounts of Loch Ness monster sightings. “Danger lies under,” he mutters.

And while all this is going on in the Maske’s apartment, Gertrude, the upstairs neighbor, is devising a plan to brighten her own life and Louise’s by arranging for Louise to take the swashbuckling Versati for a lover. (Louise and Theo have been married a year and been intimate only on their wedding night.) Gertrude offers to sew a more seductive undergarment for Louise.

Versati’s energies seem to be more in pursuit of his poetic muse, though, and Cohen’s health is taking a beating in the drafty side of the bedroom. No one has conquered Louise yet, much to Gertrude’s frustration.

And then, in the second act, Mr. Klingelhoff, another would-be tenant arrives. Klinglehoff has nothing to do, really, and his stammering speech adds another half-hour to a play that has already said everything it needed to say. Then last of all, the King shows up.

Marin Shakespeare’s Robert Currier provided some nice animation to this production, including the choreographed face-slapping that ends the first act. (Too many pratfalls for Cohen, though.) Michelle Pava Mills does a convincing portrayal of the unappreciated Louise, and Kurt Gundersen is the officious Theo. Matthew Boucher plays the uber-romantic Versati, doubling at the end, with a nice change of accent, as the King. Philip Goleman’s droopy Cohen was a great favorite on opening night, as was Maureen O’Donoghue’s meddling Gertrude. Mark Shepard was stuck with the role of Klingelhoff. Bruce Lackovic constructed a handsome set for this production, though the doors are not built for so much slamming.

The Underpants is a farce; it’s not supposed to behave logically, and its characters are allowed to be extreme. Still, the feeling persists that it might have been better before certain people adapted it.

The Underpants will play at The Barn Theatre in the Marin Art & Garden Center in Ross through June 17, Thursday through Sunday. Performance times and prices vary. For full information, see http://www.rossvalleyplayers.com/ or call 456-9555.