Uneven Farce Mostly Amuses

NO SEX PLEASE, WE'RE BRITISH

LOCATION: Leverett Old Library

DATE: Dec. 8-17

DIRECTORS: Andrew Arthur, Christopher N. Hanley ’07

TECHNICAL DIRECTOR: Nicholas J. Shearer



Some days, it is just impossible to get rid of a giant box of porn. You can try flushing it down the toilet, burning it in a trash can, burying it in the park, dumping it in the river, putting it on the back of a truck, and returning it to the company from whence it came, but it always comes back.

This is what Peter Hunter (Sergio Prado ’09), his wife Francis (Caroline E. Cochin de Billy ’09), and Peter’s hapless colleague Brian Runnicles (Rory N. Kulz ’08) find when Francis orders a box of pornographic pictures, thinking she’s ordering glassware. Don’t ask how that’s possible—plausibility is not the strong point of the plot. The driving force of both the plot and the humor is the necessity to dispose of the porn—which continues to be delivered to the house in increasing amounts due to a mistakenly sent check—without the knowledge of several involved parties: the bank above which Peter and Francis live and at which Peter works, Peter’s mother who is visiting, or the police officer who frequently drops by.

The piece is classic British farce, and thus the tone is one of barely controlled hysteria as the trio attempt to control a situation which becomes larger and more outrageous by the second. I would be willing to bet that the play holds the world record for most doors slammed per minute.

Much of this shuffling, hiding and slamming is done by Brian, Peter’s high-strung and easily cowed colleague who makes the mistake of signing for the original package and is therefore given the task of disposing of it. His antics—from being drugged to fending off the advances of an overeager pair of prostitutes—provide most of the play’s humor. Kulz is more than up to the task of portraying Brian’s increasingly ridiculous actions and deranged mental state.

The problem, however, with having one character carry most of the burden of hysteria is that the other characters are, to some extent, straight-men, all trying to behave reasonably. The play suffers when everybody is trying to hold it together and succeeding. During these stretches, the humor is mostly derived from sexual innuendo, which largely falls short.

When the characters are trying to hold it together and failing, the interplay is far more interesting: the truly funny moments in the play come when Peter, Francis, and Brian are dealing with a drugged bank inspector propped against a wall, a mother with sharp hearing upstairs, two prostitutes in the bathroom, and a police officer at the door. When things are a bit more under control, the play tends to drag a bit.

“No Sex Please, We’re British” is at times surprisingly subdued. In its moments of barely controlled mayhem, it is hilarious, but at other times it does become somewhat dull. Overall, however, fans of farce in the vein of the classic 1970s British comedy “Fawlty Towers” will not be disappointed by the show. More than enough doors are slammed—and porn accidentally given to vicars—to amuse.