The Little Dog Laughed
THE LITTLE DOG LAUGHED Ensemble Theatre, Kirribilli; 16 July- 15 August, 2009; (02) 9929 0644 or www.ensemble.com.au
Douglas Carter Beane is not a familiar name to most Australians unless you’re part of the To Wong Foo Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar cult. Or you might have seen his satirical Broadway take on Xanadu (the movie that was a satire without knowing it and which he transformed into a wicked musical and won the Drama Desk award for Best Book of a Musical in 2007).
That same year this play – The Little Dog Laughed – was nominated for a Best Play Tony. Other nominees: Peter Morgan’s Frost/Nixon, Tom Stoppard’s The Coast of Utopia and August Wilson’s Radio Golf; winner: Stoppard. The point is: Douglas Carter Beane is a top rank if deliciously skewed playwright and fine creator of biting satirical comedy: Neil Simon on acid.
This Australian premier production is beautifully served by its cast of four: James Millar as rising star of silver screen, Mitchell Green; Alexandra Fowler as his tough-talking, ambitious agent, Diane; Lindsay Farris as Alex, a winsome rent boy whose girlfriend Ellen – Alexa Ashton – is equally charming and very understanding about his night job. Because, of course, neither Mitchell nor Alex are gay. Oh no no no! Ask any number of eminent businessmen, footy players or other apparently hetero types and they will also confirm – they’re not gay, they just have sex with men.
This kind of charade is all very well until love comes along, which is generally when the poo hits the punkah. Carter Beane delicately, hilariously and credibly handles the slow blossoming romance between Mitch and Alex. The writer balances razor-sharp comedy and poignant moments and when Mitch finally tells his appalled agent that he’s taking Alex to a play, ie: out in public, that very evening, her horror can be heard from LA to New York without benefit of a phone.
The structure of the play draws the audience into a relationship with Mitch through Diane whose wise-cracking, fast-talking Hollywood style is pricelessly realised by Ally Fowler – who has been missing from Sydney stages for too long. Diane is a woman who’s only too aware of how Hollywood works; she’s read her unexpurgated movie biographies and knows all about Rock Hudson, Montgomery Clift, Cary Grant and all. Mitch has to make up his mind: it’s either the big time or it’s obscurity and true lerve. And, as we know from celeb rags and telly shows, the Hollywood big time is super big and almost impossible to resist.
As well as telling a meaty and interesting story – with an unanticipated strand of moral fibre plus some trenchant truths about the movie business – The Little Dog Laughed has some elements of “madcap” comedy for which Hollywood and Broadway were justly renowned. Timing and conviction are everything if this style is to be successful and James Millar, in particular, shows himself to be a master of the style. Comedy is hard enough anyway and each of the cast is as able as any playwright could dare hope.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the concrete elements of the production. The set design (Anna Ilic, lighting Bernie Tan) is an attractive evocation of a stylised Manhattan, but is dominated by an absurdly huge bed. It takes up most of the playing space and it’s to the actors’ credit that they ever manage to negotiate and negate its presence and get on with their business. As it is, some key scenes are, of necessity, played at the very margins and this is extraordinarily alienating – for the small section of audience directly in front of the hapless performer(s), and even more so for the vast majority whose only connection to the action is back views.
The simple solution would be to get rid of the bed, which has no witty lines, can’t act and sits around doing nothing for most of the show. With it gone the pace of the play would naturally pick up, the actors would be able to interact with the audience when they’re actually talking to us and the production would reach its full potential as a bold and satirical gem.
As it is, Millar’s nuanced and witty performance is an eye-opener for all of us who’ve hitherto known him as a rising star of musical and musical writing; Farris, Fowler and Ashton are right up there with him and the four rescue a fine night out, with lots of unexpected laughter and tears, from the death trap of a stupid queen size bed.
Nevertheless, the play comes with an Ensemble warning that This production contains language and content that may offend some patrons. This willtell you that it’s out of the normal (!) North Shore closet so it should pick up a much wider and more appreciative audience. But I won’t hold my breath.
