Nonsense For the Many More

Dunster House Dining Hall, Feb. 26, 27 at 8:30

FOR THE MANY MORE, an original verse romance running at Dunster House this weekend, is a play that prances back and forth, postures cunningly and burbles clever nonsense. It also sends the analytical mind into spasms.

James Kardon must have had a riot writing the script. It's wild and fanciful, unfettered by plot or logic. The dialogue is a great mish-mash of half-digested morsels from Shakespeare, T.S. Eliot, Coleridge, Jefferson Airplane, the Beatles and whatever else was floating through Kardon's consciousness as he held pen in hand. The mysterious phrase that serves as title pops up again and again, meaning nothing in particular but continually teasing the audience.

One helpful character, May Wish, seems to take pity on the bewildered listeners and offers an explanation of the play's symbolism. The cigar (whose properties preoccupy Iambiguous the Tam) is, she says, the moral equivalent of the magic kazoo (which equally intrigues lamb) and the aesthetic substitute for the nose of the noiseless Shaded Veiled Lady (who, of course, also fascinates our hero). Very illuminating. But May Wish's commentary does make one point clear: the play builds on obscurity as a spoof of dramatic convention. Iamiguous lives up to his name, and his lady could not be more enigmatic.

Since words carry little meaning here, they are most useful simply as noises with which each character attracts attention, sounds he can shape to fit his personality. Without the support of a storyline, the play relies on the actual acting, the visual impression and the music. All are excellent. The music, composed and performed by Michael Dolan, is always interesting and spirited, though unobtrusive, and the cast responds vitally to Evangeline Morphos's direction.

Denny Roth has designed one of the best sets in recent House productions: the sloping platform, recalling theatre tradition of the 19th century, makes the upstage actors easily visible behind those downstage. The set also captures the play's ambiguity of place and time, for the background suggests ancient Greece on one side (Ionic columns), Elizabethan England on the other (attractive filigree) and in the middle, where there is a long dark hallway draped with curtains of a fleur-de-lis pattern, an unspecified land of mystery and romance.

It is from this dim hallway that the Shaded Veiled Lady, played by Meredith Kays, always enters. Throughout the play, in a wonderfully vicious voice, she preserves a rich, purring accent that doubles the sad, sultry fascination she exudes.

Christy Brooks embraces her part as May Wish (May West?) confidently. With her bold, leering voice and self-assured largeness of gesture, she is vibrant, exciting and sexy. There is certainly no mystery about her .

Every audience loves the ridiculous comic figure who stomps wordlessly across the stage at discreet intervals. In just that role Bob Guaraldi, as Alf the Red Retriever (remember Alph the sacred river in Coleridge's "Kubla Khan"?), could not be more ridiculous or more lovable. His costume alone is enough to do the trick: he sports long red underwear, a large fur coat, a bright red nose and great, comfortable-looking boots, the better to clomp with. Each character flirts with everyone else, but Alf manages to be the most open about it, sitting down beside May Wish and howling appealingly.

Charlie Hyde, as Iambiguous, and Mark Dorman, as Sir Koeld, appear to be the most contemplative. Hyde is consistently good in his thoughtful, Hamlet-like posturing, as he worries about cigars and kazoos. Dorman is suitably imposing as he philosophizes, with a Mrs. Malaprop vocabulary, about "metaphysical exquiries" and throws around big words that sound nice without bothering to mean anything.

Charles Glover and Tina Williamson are delightful, playing a pair of sweet, artless, Elizabethan lovers. Their stage names? Prepare yourself-Toby and Notoby. As soon as you see their names on the program, you know someone is going to elaborate on the pun. Sir Keold finally satisfies the audience's expectations with this melodramatic sililoquy:

Toby or Notoby-M

That's a swell question.

Whether 'tis notably from behind

To aim the strings and sparrows

at the outrage.

O 'tis fortune for tunes.

For the Many More is pure fun, with never a thought. It works largely by puns of the farfetched, groan-producing type. (Remarks addressed to the loquacious Sir Keold: "Don't rap that." "Yeah bag it.") There's one example. See the play for the many more.