Years ago, when I last saw "Greater Tuna," the oft-performed two man show lampooning life in small-town Texas, I remember it as sweet and quaint -- like an old-fashioned and slightly off-color joke that your grandfather might have gotten away with cracking even as you and your embarrassed cousins rolled their eyes.
This time around, in a production that opened last Thursday at the 2nd Space Theatre and continues through April 15, I got a slightly different impression. "Greater Tuna" seems a little sour. It's kind of mean, even. Though the broadly drawn stereotypical Texas characters are meant (I assume) to parody bigotry and intolerance, the play is neither sharp enough nor funny enough to really succeed as a social satire. Instead, the biggest laughs come from dead-dog jokes and watching men waddle around as elderly matrons.
What happened in between?
It's hard to pin it on any one thing except the creaky effects of old age. More than 20 years ago, when "Greater Tuna" came out, perhaps poking fun at rural folk seemed a little more fresh. It was still somewhat shocking to hear disc jockeys Thurston Wheelis and Arles Struvie, the two characters who lead off the play, crack jokes about guns, God and the Ku Klux Klan.
Now such characterizations, in our "Daily Show" culture, are easier to find than botox at the Academy Awards. (It doesn't help that this production is set in the present day rather than as a period piece.) Bigot jokes merit not much more than a ho-hum. "Greater Tuna" wavers uncomfortably between feeling like a pious Blue State indictment of conservative shortcomings and a blustery Red State defense of good ol' American values.
Still, it's a great opportunity for a couple of talented actors, and rest assured, this Good Company production doesn't disappoint in that regard. At the performance I saw, Jonathon Hogan and Eric Orum romped through their many characters (and costume changes) with keen comic timing. (The two actors perform Thursdays and Saturdays, while Jacob Phillip Lockie and Alex Vaux perform Fridays and Sundays.)
Each had a standout character: Hogan as Pearl, an eccentric elderly lady with a penchant for poisoning the neighborhood dogs; and Orum as the misbuttoned Petey Fisk, an animal-rights advocate with a hyperventilating smile and the eyes of a nervous Chihuahua. More a collection of character sketches than an actual plot, the show dives in and out of the lives of various Tuna residents in a low-key, lackadaisical style.
Part of the fun is the quick shifts from one character to another, and while several of the costume transitions seemed a trifle long (I know, easy for me to say, sitting comfortably in the audience), director Denise Graziani keeps the show moving at healthy clip. David Pierce's comfy rural-backwater set and Chris Lang's lighting design shape the space well. With the actors pantomiming their props, the imagination plays a key role in "Greater Tuna," and the concept works.
What doesn't work as well for me is the play itself, particularly the second act. By that time the novelty of the characters has started to wear off, and while there are a few fun additions (notably a very funny minister played by Hogan, complete with a hysterical shock of silver-evangelist hair), you have ample opportunity to start adding up the shortcomings. By the time radio station OKKK -- another joke that wears thin -- goes off the air, it's rather easy to tune out "Tuna."
For tickets and info on "Greater Tuna," go to www.gcplayers.com. A version of this review will run in Friday's theater commentary in the Weekend section.
