Larry Shue’s feather-weight comedy The Foreigner (off-Broadway premiere, 1984) is a sweet backwoods treat, like molasses slathered on a Slim Jim. The play has a dark core – the KKK – but is saved by its silly heart of a plot. It is also saved by the lead performance of John Johnston as psychologically shy Charlie in this A.D. Players production.
Needing a great dose of R&R because his wife is dying from cancer (and apparently on her 23rd lover), Charlie is brought to a fishing lodge in the Georgia woods by his friend Froggy (Kevin Dean), a Scottish (?), English (?) ammunition master. He is so shy and scared of conversation that Froggy concocts a ploy where Charlie will be introduced as a “foreigner” who doesn’t speak or understand English. This, of course, provides all the other wacky characters to treat him like a pseudo-confessor, to whom they speak their private thoughts or desires.
Disney artists should study Johnston’s face and physical comedy for what they could learn about human anatomy. Is his face actually made of rubber? You would think so from the myriad expressions he can make out of it: exasperation, bewilderment, stupefaction, wonderment, bewilderment, frantic, panic, sadness, giddiness. If iconic silent film actor Lon Chaney was known as the “man of a thousand faces,” I think Johnston goes him one better.
When Charlie gains his confidence in Act II, watch in amazement what Johnston does in his retelling of Little Red Riding Hood, as told through pigeon-English, faux middle-European accent, and gibberish that includes the classic line from The Day the Earth Stood Still, “Klaatu barada nikto.” It’s a pantomime on steroids and exceptionally funny. (Charlie’s a sci-fi magazine editor in daily life, and he uses references like the robot’s name “Gort,” also from the classic 1951 movie, for his word for “yes.”)
It doesn’t matter if you know these arcane references, because the premise and performance is so funny in itself. Johnston, artistic director of Classical Theatre Company, lets himself go, unleashes his inner id, and floats into the empyrean. It’s a marvelous and witty performance.
Although the accents themselves are sprayed all over the globe, I wish they’d pick one and stick with it. Is that a southern drawl from Betty (Susan Koozin), a Scots’ burr from Froggy, a slight English tinged tone when Charlie reverts to his actual self? Where are we? Who are they?
Shue’s comedy is farce with an under bite, but still a farce. Alyssa Marek’s Catherine, worried over her own pregnancy and impending marriage to Reverend Lee (David Gow), starts out too shrill and angsty to let us know she’s a softy underneath or a former debutante; and Gow doesn’t pretend he has a soft side in order to hoodwink his fiancee. We’re shown way too much too soon. Shue’s play is all about revelations, but director Kevin Crouch gives it all away from the beginning. We should be hoodwinked, too.
Koozin’s Betty is empathetic in spades. She believes she has an “extra circular communication” with Charlie and so can understand his gibberish. She shouts at him thinking he’ll understand the louder she yells. It’s an old joke, but still works when Koozin supplies her perfect timing. Gabriel Mullen, as Catherine’s “dim” brother Ellard, can be played as the heart of this comedy as he comes into his own through Charlie’s tutelage, as I have seen done before, and his performance is thoroughly energetic and true.
Gow overplays the snake in the grass right from the beginning, which diminishes our surprise when he actually turns out to be a snake. He’s got righteous condemnation down, though, smarmy and too good to be true. Jeff McMorrough, all burly and sullen, makes a fine villain, dripping with condescension and his hatred of “others.” Don’t get caught in a dark alley with him. Kevin Dean’s Froggy supplies all the exposition Shue needs to jump-start this comedy, and he does it with his usual finesse and ease. He’s an A.D. Players veteran and its artistic director as well as playwright (A Texas Carol, The Hiding Place). He’s always a welcome sight on stage, because you know you’re in fine hands.
Steven C. Kemp’s solid fishing lodge is something square out of Field & Stream: pine-paneled walls, braided rug, heavy table, rocking chair, antler trophies, and lots of plaids. And you can’t go wrong with David Gipson’s lighting design with car lights and approaching torches, or Samantha Dante Patterson’s utilitarian costumes which include Betty’s absolutely hideous sweater. Perfect.
Following the success of The Nerd (1981), Shue died at the age of 39 during the off-Broadway run of The Foreigner. He never learned of its lasting popularity. His final comedy doesn’t approach the quality of giants Kaufman and Hart, probably not even Neil Simon in his heyday, but it has a gentle and kind center, a comeuppance for bigotry, some very funny sequences, plus John Johnston’s definitive interpretation. Sometimes, that’s enough for any comedy.
The Foreigner continues through February 23 at 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays through Saturdays; and 2 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays at The George Theater, 5420 Westheimer. For more information, call 713-526-2721 or visit adplayers.org. $25-$75.
