Dumb Plays Wear Plaid

ADISEMBODIED VOICE in the darkness carries the audience back to the ninth of February, 1964. A group of singers called Forever Plaid are killed in a contretemps with a school bus. 25 years later, they're back on earth again--four well-shaven ghosts with their hair parted at the extreme left, dressed in white dinner jackets adorned with bow ties. And they're staging "the biggest comeback since Lazarus."

Their names are Smudge, Sparky, Frankie and Jinx. That should give the viewer a fair indication of the kind of musical presented here. The very first song, "Three Coins in a Fountain," confirms one's every suspicion. All around, eyes glaze with nostalgia as, almost without pause, the quartet swings into "Gotta be This or That."

Forever Plaid is performed on a tiny stage fringed with starry blue curtains, with a grand piano and a 'cellist in the background. The entertainment consists of 27 sing-along tunes from the 1950s and '60s, glued together by a little plot, a little humor and a little acting.

The plot is minimal. Four rather unsuccessful, rather dead singers are back on earth for one last show. Their repertoire focuses on ballads of "lost hope and new beginnings," but the mood of nostalgia that the songs evoke is somewhat self-conscious. In his own words, the director (and writer, and choreographer), Stuart Ross, is trying hard to avoid any hint of being "goopy or goody-two-shoes." Unfortunately, Ross ends up with an awkward mix of sentiment and goofiness.

The humor sustains the feeling of the "good old days" -- the jokes and quips are positively ancient. While the style may be a refreshing change from sex and violence, Ross takes the theme of innocence and jollity a little too far. Puns like "The Good, the Plaid and the Ugly" are one painful example. And the Forever Plaid Christmas album, called "Plaid Tidings," is another.

The quartet's acting has the rather juvenile exuberance of slapstick comedy. First, there's Frnakie (Dale Sandish). Unrivalled for the glossiness of his hair and the smoothness of his chin, he exclaims "Holy canolli!" in times of stress. As Smudge, a bathroom fixtures salesman by day and a bespectacled baritone by night, Jeff Bannon has so few facial expressions that he might as well have been stuffed. As Sparky, a stocky fellow who exudes good-guy looks, David Benoit is too jolly to be real. And Leo Daignault, playing Jinx, has the peculiar elfin charm of Andy Hardy.

The songs are a treat for any sixties fan. The singing? Well, to quote a mythical reviewer in Forever Plaid" "This group's sound is to contemporary music what formica is to marble." This is not really true--those who enjoy the genre may find the renditions of songs like "No, Not Much" and "Catch A Falling Star" very appealing.

There's even a note of poignancy at the end, when the time draws near for the Plaids to return to that place in the sky where all good (and good-intentioned) singers go. so if you're looking for a way to spend an evening of undemanding entertainment in convivial surroundings, try Forever Plaid. Sure, it's superficial and shallow. But who expects deep philosophical revelations from a musical, anyway?