'Acropolis' Gives Laughs Now

If you’ve still got the acrid taste in your mouth from when gasoline prices were at an all-time high or you’ve fallen victim to a housing “crunch,” the Hasty Pudding Theatricals can offer you laughs (and maybe hope) in the plight of diminutive demigod Hugh Bris (Daniel V. Kroop ’10), the pocket-protected protagonist of their 161st performance, “Acropolis Now.” Though it may not be the high-brow piece of musical mastery that one might typically expect to witness at a show with men in drag, “Acropolis Now,” directed by Tony Parise and showing in the New College Theatre through March 15, has all the great Ancient Greek traditions: prostitution, drinking, and, of course, sexual innuendo.

As with many HPT shows, the plot is more a framework in which their punny sex jokes can operate, and the formula works well for them. The show recreates the story of the first Olympics in a town faced with a devastating olive oil crisis and the impending destruction of the Hp (Ate-a-pi) frat house. The ragtag group of townspeople receive the aid of Hugh, who is sent by his rhyme-loving father, Dr. Zeus (Walter B. Klyce ’10), to help the town and earn for himself full divinity. Hugh’s uncle, King of the Underworld and Lord of the Hotpants, Hades (Tom R. Compton ’09), schemes against his nerdy nephew, arranging a competition between Hugh and a really, really ridiculously good-looking statue, resurrected for the purpose. The literal deification of the dork and the lovelorn trials of geeky girl and resident accountant Roseanne (Derek S. Mueller ’10) make for a show that joins frat boys and math puns.

Writers Alexandra A. Petri ’10 and Megan L. Amram ’10 opted to limit the offensive one-liners in the all-male Parthenon-era performance to pokes at a capella groups, and the jokes flow unhindered by the cringeworthy jabs that have plagued past HPT performances. But even if Pitches ain’t shit, HPT’s jokes aren’t above falling flat themselves at times.

Thankfully, the cast’s rapid-fire, 60-jokes-a-minute barrage keeps the show moving; it’s rare that two duds are ever released in a row. Awkward silences don’t last long, and each of the characters carries an arsenal of witticisms just waiting to be unloaded.

David J. Andersson ’09, in ass-flattering sequined bell-bottoms—one of the many striking designs fashioned by Costumer Annie E. Austin ’10—steals much of the show as Afro Dite, the soulfully sassy goddess of Love. Armed with arrows of “Love,” “Like,” and “I have feelings for you, but I’m just not ready for a committed relationship,” Afro Dite is a punchy shot of attitude; her enthusiasm and the precision with which her particularly round hind region was crafted make it difficult to look at anything else when she’s on-stage.

“If he likes dressing up in drag,” she warns in “Venus Envy,” one of the highlights of the show, “he might be gay.” Such selective self-awareness is a powerful comedic weapon in the performance, whose steady supply of double entendres can lull the audience into a slight-chuckle comfort zone. Such surprises are a refreshing source of entertainment, and work particularly well to tactfully name drop the show’s sponsors, particularly The Coop. Similarly, subtlety and careful delivery keep the show from making the jump from shallow to annoying.

But the consciously homoerotic humor can be a turn-off in excess, as in the unnecessary number, “A Fine Bromance.” And, though the audience can handle the comedic onslaught, clever lines sometimes get lost amidst the musical commotion. Scenes in which all of the actors are dancing tend to be confused and sloppy, save for the entertaining newborn baby kickline at the end.

Supported by the jazzy sounds of composer Alex B. Lipton ’11 and the HPT band, “Acropolis Now” is a rare Greek life spectacle in the generally serious landscape of Harvard theater. In the words of Brometheus, “Pound it.” (That’s what she said.)

—Staff writer Beryl C.D. Lipton can be reached at blipton@fas.harvard.edu.