The topic of feminine undergarments has fascinated humans for
centuries, dating back to a time when a pair of “underpants” contained more
material than a pair of modern shorts. In many ways, the intimate garments
represent vulnerability, gender roles — and an excellent opportunity for social
commentary. That’s what German playwright Carl Sternheim
believed, anyway, when he penned “Die Hose” (“The Trousers”) in 1910.
Almost 100
years later, “Die Hose” was adapted by Steve Martin — really, is there anything he can’t do? — and renamed
“The Underpants.” The show opened Off-Broadway in 2002 and has since been
produced around the world consistently.
The play
begins in the flat of Theo and Louise Maske. The
couple has just returned from attending the King’s Parade in Dusseldorf on a Sunday
afternoon, but alas, tragedy descended upon them during the event. While Louise
was climbing to have a better vantage point of the royal procession, her
underpants loosened and slipped down around her ankles. Now, her proper German
husband believes his wife’s reputation (and therefore his) is ruined.
While Theo
panics and tries to restore order, happy-go-lucky Louise is encouraged by their
upstairs neighbor, Gertrude, to enjoy her newfound fame and all that comes with
it, including the attentions of two would-be lovers who are interested in
renting the couple’s available room.
In many
ways, Sternheim was the Oscar Wilde of Germany. His
plays focused on the trivial matters of bourgeois Germans and were farcical in
nature, containing situations and discourse so extreme they really weren’t
probable. Still, there was always an underlying message to his audience. In
“The Underpants,” Martin has retained most of the farce and some of the
message, with a few tweaks. (The playbill’s dramaturgical notes by Eric Evans
provide expert insight on this matter.)
As many Blackfriars show selections do, the production features an
intimate cast (just six players), but plenty of talent abounds in this lineup.
Director David Henderson (of local company Method Machine) is mindful of the
play’s thematic elements and guides the actors in a delicate exaggeration of
their characters, stopping appropriately short of creating caricatures.
Adam Petzold (Theo), who appeared in “The Boys Next Door”
earlier this season, plays the alpha male, a proper German husband who’s
committed to providing a good home for his beautiful wife. Early in the play,
he admits Louise’s looks are out of his league, and he spends a lot of energy
compensating for this blow to his confidence. The sinewy Petzold
portrays the mansplaining, machismo role to perfection.
Opposite him
is Jillian Severin (Louise), a bright-eyed,
rosy-cheeked beauty versatile enough to play a Disney princess — or, in this
case, an obedient German wife who spends her days making dinner for her husband
and her nights pining for a little excitement. Dawn Sargent (Gertrude) plays
the couple’s nosy, older upstairs neighbor who wants to live vicariously
through the vibrant Louise. Gertrude makes way for many of the tongue-in-cheek
innuendos throughout the show, ranging from an “erect” tower of whipped cream
to a pan of sausages arranged with two small “potatoes” each.
As Louise’s
star struck lovers, Daniel Mejak (Benjamin Cohen) and
Jonathan Porter (Frank Versati) are responsible for
much of the show’s hilarity. Mejak plays a
milquetoast Jewish barber who convinces the wary Theo it’s
“Cohen with a K,” and Porter plays a preening, simpering poet who believes he’s
found his muse in Louise. A scene where a sleepy Mejak
climbs the flat’s stairs kept audience members laughing until they broke into
applause. Andrew Cowen (Klinglehoff) plays a smaller
role as the final tenant, but still adds to the overall comedic strength of the
cast with his facial expressions, in particular.
The scenic
design by Mara Bianca, which depicts a turn-of-the-century European flat, is
aesthetically impressive (and perhaps the most ambitious of this season).
Costume design by Janice Ferger channels further
innuendo, particularly through Louise’s — ahem — liberated dresses.
“The
Underpants” is a fun romp through issues of gender roles and responsibilities
without feeling too heavy-handed at any point. The farce celebrates what has
changed in the last century even as it exposes what hasn’t. For many audience
members, it might be too subtle a theme, but for others, it has the potential
to create stimulating post-show conversations.
This article appears in Feb 15-21, 2017.
