In 1928, Joseph Moncure March wrote an epic narrative poem titled “The
Wild Party.” Set in the Roaring 20’s, it told the story of entertainers
Queenie and Burrs, their tempestuous relationship, and a raucous soiree in
which it all went to hell. In 2000, two entirely different musicals called “The
Wild Party,” both based on March’s poem, opened in New York City, one on
Broadway, one off-Broadway. It is the off-Broadway version, written by Andrew
Lippa, that Blackfriars has chosen to stage to close out its current season.

One of Blackfriars’ strengths is that it takes risks. And “The Wild
Party” is definitely risky – or should I say, risquรฉ. The story can be
summed up as “boozy, self-destructive lovers get in a fight, decide to
have a party, invite a gaggle of their depraved friends, everybody has sex, and
then fights, and then they pay the price for their debauchery.” The show
is definitely intended for mature audiences (two words: simulated orgy), and
tonally and thematically it shares considerable ground with Broadway stalwarts
“Chicago” and “Cabaret.” (Bad girls and worse men make
terrible decisions, enjoy the heady highs of hedonism, and then reap the
inevitable repercussions of their actions.) Although the blues- and jazz-tinged
songs don’t quite live up to those found in the aforementioned Kander & Ebb
classics, “The Wild Party” has its own seductive charms.

Blackfriars’ production has a lot going for it. It looks
fantastic – John Haldoupis has done his typically stellar job designing a
gorgeously appointed set that adds an exotic flourish to the sensuous
goings-on, and his period costumes make each cast member look like a million
bucks. The choreography by Meggins Kelley is often inventive and impressive,
especially in the group numbers. And the production features two memorable,
powerhouse performances.

Unfortunately, those performances aren’t by the leads. They’re by two
supporting cast members who steal the show completely. Laura Marron’s Madeline
True is introduced bluntly as “The Lesbian,” and Marron owns it,
maximizing every line and interaction in what is ultimately a tertiary role at
best. She is brassy, bold, and charmingly desperate, as evidenced in her big
solo number, “An Old-Fashioned Love Story.” The delivery was so good,
and Marron so utterly committed to it, I couldn’t help but whoop audibly in
approval. I never whoop.

The other revelation came in the form of Kate, a cougar on the prowl brought
to life by Kristin Hopwood. Almost as soon as Hopwood entered the stage, the
show rose to another level. She is magnetic – whether sashaying across the
stage, purring her come-ons, or hissing her barbs, and never once wavered from
her role as a sexually voracious bitch goddess. (Alexis Carrington, eat your
heart out.) After she belted out her solo number at the beginning of the second
act, I had only two questions: why isn’t this woman a star? And, why isn’t she
the star of this show?

That’s bad news for Marlo DiCrasto, ostensibly the lead in
the role of Queenie. DiCrasto is a fine actress and an even better singer, but
from the second she pulled back the curtain at the start of the show, she
seemed uneasy in the role of a sexually liberated, emotionally complicated
young woman. DiCrasto nailed every line and emoted competently, but there was
never a moment where she ever seemed truly comfortable on the stage; the only
way to describe her performance on opening night is self-conscious. And she
needn’t be – she’s a beautiful woman with a great body and an even better
voice. Physical timidity wouldn’t be an issue in practically any other play,
but it’s so essential to Queenie’s character that she be an irresistible sexual
creature, that her hesitance made it difficult to ever fully embrace her
character, or its role in the show.

As for the lead actors, Danny Hoskins brings a wild-eyed craziness to Burrs,
and manages to make a mentally unstable physical abuser somewhat sympathetic in
his big number, “Let Me Drown.” He does his best navigating the
totally over-the-top climax of the play. As Queenie’s other suitor, Mr. Black,
J. Simmons is cool, collected, and the epitome of smooth. He’s a good
counterpoint to Hoskins, and his scenes bring out the best in DiCrasto.

The other criticism – and this is a fault of the script, not of the staging
– is that I wish more of the party guests were more involved in the action.
There are literally 20 characters in this show, most of who are never
introduced, and the few that are, get mostly ignored. (What was the point of
introducing the one girl as “The Whore” if nothing is ever, ever done
with it?) Granted, a chorus is rarely fleshed out – that’s the point of a
chorus – but I can’t think of another play in which one hangs out in the back
of the stage while the action takes place in front of it.

The Wild Party

Blackfriars Theatre

Through May 17

28 Lawn Street |
454-1260, blackfriars.org

This article appears in Apr 30-30, 2008.