BWW Reviews: A.D. Players Presents THE 39 STEPS - It's a Tippi Good Time

Patrick Barlow's THE 39 STEPS is modeled after Alfred Hitchcock's The 39 Steps, which is modeled after John Buchan's "The 39 Steps." Alfred Hitchcock chose to adapt " The 39 Steps" because of his strong admiration for John Buchan and his ability to understate "highly dramatic ideas." Unlike Hitchcock, Barlow's THE 39 STEPS is a Mel Brooksian send-up of both of its predecessors. It brings out the inherent silliness in the old school thriller and is in no way concerned with understatement. For the better. Despite the genre and those like it being among my favorites, it's hard to take the outrageous stylization seriously now. How clever of Barlow to exploit that to give us this fantastic, farcical play.

Like all dashing, debonair, and mustachioed bachelors, Richard Hannay has nothing to do. Listless, he decides to go to the theatre and, finally, the promise that every theatre teacher you ever had made comes true - it transforms his life. At the theatre, he meets a beautiful woman who accompanies him back to his apartment, saunters into his bedroom, then is promptly murdered in the night while he sleeps alone on his ottoman. Before the mysterious beauty dies, she fills his head with conspiracy theories that send Hannay on a wild-goose chase. He must answer the question: What (or who) is (or are) the 39 steps?

The A.D. Player's production of THE 39 STEPS is entertaining and fun. Even when it's acting out old, worn out jokes, I can't help but crack a smile because it doesn't take itself too seriously. The film projections aren't of the art student variety. In fact, they're used for the old hand-cuff bit.* And oh, do I enjoy all the Hitchcock references - those beautiful faux two percenters. I feel so clever recognizing a Vertigo reference. Above all, despite the complexity and craftsmanship required to produce the play, the production is incredibly light and easy going. No one breaks a sweat.

Hitchcock says of his 1935 thriller, "You use one idea after another and eliminate anything that interferes with the swift pace." Director Ken Bailey has some trouble with this in the first act. The pacing is very slow. We linger over jokes a bit too long, which gives me (and other vocal audience members) just enough time to wonder where the plot is going. Hitchcock wasn't interested in a strong plot, and when the production slows down, it shows. However, like Goldilocks' porridge, the second act is just right.

Company members Kevin Dean (Richard Hannay) and Craig Griffin (Clown 1) are prizes. Kevin Dean's Richard Hannay is an attractive, British Inspector Clouseau. He exudes smugness and density. But his mustache is fantastic.

Craig Griffin's performance is precise and detailed, yet remarkably fluid. He disappears into each character with dexterity and ease, giving each one its own unique flavor. His characters are among my favorites. Clearly, I enjoy him as the spy, which is a well-written character. But, it's the subtlety in his skill set that enthralls me. For instance, in one scene on a train, he pesters and harrasses our, admittedly pompous, protagonist. My favorite part of the scene is how he obnoxiously nibbles a cookie with the most ridiculous Chesire Cat grin on his face. Funny, funny stuff.

Griffin shines again as the Scottish hotelier wife to Jeff McMorrough's (Clown 2) Scottish hotelier husband. In him, I saw every well-meaning woman born in the 50s who tries to get me to diet so I can find a husband. Furthermore, I thank him for not playing a "woman" but playing the character. His ability to see women as complex beings with a variety of hopes, dreams and characteristics brings a tear to my eye. Bless you, Craig Griffin.

As amazing as the long-time company members are, it is risky not to add new blood from time to time. Enter Alexis German (Annabella/Margaret/Pamela) and Jeff McMorrough (Clown 2). Alexis German is more than chuckle-worthy as thick-accented spy Annabella Schmidt, undersexed housewife Margaret and pretty, nose-in-the-air snitch and love interest, Pamela Edwards.

Kudos to Jeff McMorrough and Craig Griffin. They both deserve prizes for adroitly switching roles every minute - sometimes every second - while keeping their characters distinct and interesting. I especially enjoyed Jeff McMorrough's many preposterous but, at times, incredibly spot-on accents.

Costume Designer Patty Tuel's wardrobe choices only heighten the comedy. You may find yourself asking, is Richard Hannay wearing a rope around his sickeningly garish, woman-repelling smoking jacket/dressing gown? The answer is yes. How delightful.

Scenic Designer Mark Lewis and Props Designer Trisha Wise do a lot with a little. One chest is a bed, a car and, of course, a chest.

So, we're at the end my friends. And I'm sure you have a burning question - what are the 39 steps? You'll have to see the play. Or see the film. You could also try reading the book. I, forgive me Hitchcock purists, put my money on the play. But what do I know?**

THE 39 STEPS runs September 10 - October 5, 2014. Performances are Thursdays at 7:30pm, Fridays and Saturdays at 8:00pm and Sundays at 2:30pm. There will be one Wednesday matinee on October 1, 2014 at 2:30pm and one Saturday matinee on September 27th at 2:30pm. Tickets may be purchased online at www.adplayers.org, at A. D. Players' Box Office, 2710 W. Alabama, or by calling 713-526-2721. Ticket prices range from $20-$40 for single tickets. Group, student, and senior discounts are available.

* Pick your old school romantic comedy. Inevitably, the two vinegar and oil but clearly meant to spend their lives together love interests find themselves handcuffed together.

**Hitchcock said, "Some magazines deliberately select critics who don't care about films but are able to write about them in a condescending way that will amuse the readers." He goes on to mock critics for centering their reviews around easy puns. I guess you could say that Hitchcock would think my opinions are for the birds. For the birds.

Quotes from Hitchcock: The Revised Edition by Francois Truffaut (with the collaboration of Helen G. Scott), 1983.

Photo: Bara Photography

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