She's no lady, she's my diva: Becca McCoy as the Lady of the Lake. Credit: Joey Clay Photography
She’s no lady, she’s my diva: Becca McCoy as the Lady of the Lake. Credit: Joey Clay Photography
Monty Python’s Spamalot$21-$38. Through May 8. Wed-Sun, 8 p.m. American Stage in the Park, Demens Landing, St. Pete. 727-823-PLAY. americanstage.org.
What makes Spamalot such a winning comedy is its IGM rate: Inventive Gags per Minute. Put the emphasis on “inventive”: in this hilarious pageant, nothing that happens prepares you for what happens next, and a mixup of England with Finland is followed by a segment on the Black Plague which somehow turns into a debate with a medieval member of an “anarcho-syndicalist commune” which leads up to an appearance by the fantastical Lady of the Lake, complete with dancing girls in swimsuits, which is succeeded by…
Well, take my word for it, the new ideas never cease. And if you weren’t charmed silly by the Knights Who Say Ni! (and demand “a shrubbery” from Arthur and Crew), then you’re only moments away from the ridiculous Black Knight who can’t stop fighting even when all his limbs are hacked off, or the unexpected appearance of a large, projected Star of David and Israeli music once Arthur realizes that you just can’t have a successful Broadway musical without any Jews. There are so many inspired segments in this laughfest, in fact, that it makes most other musical comedies seem stingy in comparison. And Spamalot boasts one other considerable virtue: Beneath all the absurdity is an intelligent encounter with the King Arthur legend, the Grail story and the contemporary shape of the Anglophone musical. What a pleasure to see a show that assumes a smart audience!
As you probably know, Spamalot, with books and lyrics by Eric Idle and music by Idle and John Du Prez, is unapologetically ripped off from the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail. As much as I enjoyed that film, I like the musical more: It’s more boisterous and unpredictable and joyously complicit with its audience. And the Park format doesn’t detract from it a bit: Director Jonathan Williams skillfully places his exuberant cast all over Jerid Fox’s whimsical castle set, letting them battle to the death at one moment, then suddenly give way to a line of Las Vegas-style showgirls who are all the sillier because they have no right to exist in such a setting. Another reason why the show works so well is the costuming of Markie Baiza: Dozens of Outfits Sorta of the Middle Ages (or of folksy Scandinavia, in the mistaken Finland segment), and certain togs, like the seashell-bras of the Lady of the Lake’s retinue, or the armor of the French Taunters (“English pigdogs…I blow my nose at you! I fart in your general direction!”) that are wonderfully expressive. There’s even a part of the French segment where three Gallic icons come onstage, one dressed as a mime, one as a great painter, and one as Napoleon. Is this necessary? Not at all! But this is theater by people who understand a visual medium and who never shortchange a rod or cone. In fact, these costumes are so ingenious, we find ourselves wondering what the designer will do next.
And of course, there are the actors. As King Arthur, Randall Delone Adkison is the ultimate straight man, questing earnestly first for knights with whom to share the Round Table (it turns out to be TV’s Wheel of Fortune), and then, after a divine command, to seek out the Grail. As his devoted servant Patsy, Brad DePlanche importantly clicks coconut halves together to make the sound of horseshoes clopping, then sulks when his King-companion insensitively sings I’m All Alone. Stephen M. Ray, Jr. is a comically vain Sir Lancelot, and J.J. Tiemeyer turns out, after some initial recalcitrance, to be a courageous Sir Galahad. Perhaps the most outrageous knight is Scott Daniel as Sir Robin, a violence-averse, pleasure-loving naif, who seems to have wandered in cluelessly from an assertiveness-training camp. And speaking of camp, Chris Crawford plays the lovely Sir Herbert as a self-absorbed cross-dresser looking for any opportunity to show off his pink knickers. Becca McCoy as the Lady of the Lake is the ultimate drama queen — she even has a song (The Diva’s Lament) about not being onstage enough. But my favorite song is the choral Find Your Grail — an unashamed self-improvement anthem proving that psychobabble existed even in the 10th century.Bottom line: this is wonderfully inspired entertainment, expertly presented and as good a reason to sit under the open St. Petersburg sky as any you can think of. Prepare to laugh and laugh often.
