A Moderate Success

OH, FOR THE DAYS when big business was so much fun. All those pleasant corporate execs used to caper around the office in their pleasantly grey flannel suits, every now and then molesting the pleasantly available secretaries, and all the while running the engines of the American economy at full throttle. Adam Smith would no doubt have enjoyed it, and probably would have hypothesized some benevolent invisible hand to direct all that frisky lechery and banality toward a common good. At the very least, he would have appreciated the healthy, self-enforced chivalry of the times: martinis at dawn, and to the victor belong the olives. Ah, for the past, that existed only in musicals.

Happily, it still does. The Kirkland House Drama Society's current production of Frank Loesser's How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, an early-'60s paean to the knucklehead glory of girl-watching and "getting ahead," recreates the innocence of that time with an enjoyable, if sometimes unfocused, energy. Moving through the standard '60s-musical formula of boy-meets-girl, boy-and-girl-fall-in-love, boy-and-girl-fall-out-of-love, and boy-beats-world-and-marries-girl -- all to the accompaniment of Loesser's slick score -- the Kirkland House cast manages to create a fun evening in the face of some almost overwhelming obstacles.

And problems there are. The Kirkland JCR stage was apparently designed by an AT&T engineer who, having done his best for the world of telephone booths, decided to grace the world of theater; perhaps a troupe of leprechauns could work a dance number in there, but normal human beings have noticeable difficulties. The same holds true for the rest of the scenes: it is simply impossible to fit more than four people comfortably on that platform, which can only hurt a musical such as this, relying as it does on a large cast. Perhaps an extraordinary director and choreographer could have overcome these physical difficulties, but director Patty Woo has not--the actors have a definite tendency to get in each other's way, which proves a terrible distraction through the middle of the play.

That's a shame, because there are some impressive performances here. Holly Sargent, as the ingenue-secretary who sets her heart on cornering a certain climbing executive for a march to the altar, blends just the right amounts of innocence and calculation, and throws in a decent singing voice, to boot. Thomas Baldridge plays the young-exec-on-the-make a bit too cloyingly--there are times when you want to rough him up a little for being too smarmy, and not nearly charming enough--but still manages a strong performance. And honors for a show-stopping effort go to Jim O'Brien, who brings to the part of Bud Frump--the boss's maddeningly wimpish nephew--not only an impressive comic flair, but also the best singing voice in the cast. O'Brien's clear, powerful solos in "Coffee Break" and "Gotta Stop That Man," the two best-staged production numbers, do full justice to Loesser's music.

IN THE END, too, it is the music that carries the show, How to Succeed's plot, after all, stretches the credulity of even the most avid musical-goer, and some of the dialogue should be footnoted for its sheer cloying idiocy. But it doesn't seem to matter. Listen to O'Brien do justice to "Coffee Break," hear Frank Coates, as the stuffily philandering boss, join Baldridge in a rousing rendition of "Old Ivy," and sit back and enjoy as Baldridge and Sargent charm their way through "Rosemary" and "I Believe in You," and you have an evening's entertainment. So what, you say, if this production seems to magnify all the problems of typical House shows--so what if the band screeches, too brassy and too loud, or that the set borders on Filene's-basement quality, or that the actors can't seem to navigate across a stage that is crowded enough to qualify as a Parris Island obstacle run--so what if the word "professional" doesn't quite apply. This is a House show, and it's supposed to be fun. It is. There isn't much more you can ask for.

So don't. This production doesn't ask much of its audience, except that to suspend disbelief, tap its feet to some excellent show music, and enjoy itself. All of which can be done, without really trying.