Circa One
May 13-June 17 | Reviewed by Melody Nixon

THE BAWDY, self-referential humour and politically incorrect stereotypes of The Underpants kept a near full house laughing at Circa on Saturday night. More slapstick than farce, this play provides moments of derrière clenching hilarity for viewers not opposed to blatant, facile humour. The play is unique in the chance it affords us to indulge in verbose and frivolous scenes of sexual hi-jinx and mockery. However, Steve Martin’s version of The Underpants relies heavily on historical context to justify and place its humour, but to its detriment fails to relay the valuable themes of the original.

The German dramatist Carl Sternheim’s version of this play, Die Hose (1911), skillfully satirises the lives of early 20th century bourgeoisie. His repräsentant of the German political system, Theodore Maske, embodies a mixture of corrupt morals and brutish manners; seeking only physical contentment and preaching social moderation while abusing those below his station. Theo’s wife Louise battles against her neglectful husband whilst struggling with the glories, and subsequent pitfalls, of unexpected notoriety.

Die Hose in its original version was rarely seen. Threatening to the established political system in Germany at the time, the play was banned during the First World War and again by the Nazi regime. This is a shame as Die Hose’s moments of full bodied comedy and perceptive satire would have been perhaps most appreciated by those alive at the time of the 1910 Kaiser-lead political climate it was inspired by.

In the early 21st century, New York director Barry Edelstein commissioned Steve Martin to adapt the play for a modern audience. A difficult task, as when so much of Die Hose’s value is historical, its modernization could easily mean the subtleties of the original’s messages and themes are lost; its purpose sacrificed for the sake of ready made humour.

The play has captured past trends and codes of behaviour no longer relevant or acceptable and the mere viewing of these behaviours – the whacking of housewife Louise Maske (Holly Shanahan) by her husband with a rolled up newspaper; the insinuation that Louise can only be fulfilled when desired by men – today is, by association, a historical exercise. Although Martin explicitly states that he ‘chose not to present the play as historical artifact’, choosing instead to focus on the ‘ribald, self-referential and quirky’ aspects, the slapstick humour he presents us with could not be taken without historical context. We can laugh at a woman being yelled at by her husband and forced to cook and clean endlessly because we know this no longer happens – for most women in the audience this is not a reality.

As promised, Martin’s adaptation accentuates the ribald and the vulgar; no chance for double entendre (think, Wieners, many Wieners) is left untaken. We are exposed to jokes that ridicule not only women but also Jews and petty bureaucrats. Furthermore, we are treated to the indulgence of self referential dialogue, such as when neighbour Gertrude Deuter (Carmel McGlone) says to Louise “I’ve just come from a play by Sternheim.”
“Should I see it?”
“Wait ‘til it’s adapted.”

Retaining the historical setting in order to justify and explain the play’s humour is essential; but retaining only this, and removing the central themes and intentions of the original, leaves an at times empty and shallow work. Easy jokes are made; complexities are left unexplored. While Gertrude’s lonely, voyeuristic state is made a tangent of its own –
Gertrude: “I’m going to have an affair”
Louise: “Why?”
Gertrude: “Because I live through you. And you’re going to have an affair!” – the solidarity between Louise and her spinster friend Gertrude is underplayed.

Fortunately, the inadequacies in script are often compensated for by the acting and directing in Circa’s version of The Underpants. Phil Grieve turns an incorrigible and often vile Theodore into a teddy bear figure who is quasi endearing. We are even warmed to him when he says “I can’t change my mind: then I’d have nothing to think.” Carmel McGlone triumphs over the challenge imposed by her unusually harlequin-like makeup to give a full, smooth and thoroughly entertaining performance. Kelson Henderson as Versati, Louise Maske’s momentary suitor, makes an entrance that increases the play’s entertainment value ten fold. Entrances and exits by David McKenzie as Klinglehoff, and Phil Grieve and Carmel McGlone, are deserving of the full guffaws they received at Saturday’s performance. And Julian Wilson as the sickly Benjamin Cohen wonderfully alternates between passionate jealousy and hypochondria.

But finally script prevails over execution and The Underpants ends on an oddly dissatisfying note. Confined to slapstick for the first three quarters, the play suddenly turns absurd and veers even toward the abstract. Lulled by the unconcealed wit of the first act and a half, the final scene jars the audience and creates feelings of displacement and incompletion.

We are thankful for the actors’ skill and delivery, and warmed by the easy humour. For people who delight in politically incorrect stereotypes, and are not looking for depth, there are many laughs to be had. But at the end of The Underpants we can’t help feeling Martin’s script should, like some kind of over ambitious cheese, be put back in the bottom drawer and left to mature.