TH EATER
BY RICK LEVIN
TAKE A HIT OF REEFER MADNESS:
THE MUSICAL
The hysterical anti-marijuana hysteria of the ACE
I
don’t much care for pot. In theory, marijuana strikes
me as an ideal recreational drug, a mellow, groovy
high that is nowhere near as murderous as alcohol or
aggrandizing as cocaine — not to mention that, unlike
junk, it would take an almost Herculean effort to get
addicted to the weed. That said, it’s really too bad that
whenever I huff bud I wind up feeling like Woody Allen on
pig’s feet and strychnine, fretting that I didn’t wipe good
enough and convinced I’ve come down with lupus.
Because of this, it seems to me I’d make the perfect
decriminalization advocate: a non-user who nonetheless,
and for thoroughly practical reasons, believes the current
state of prohibition against marijuana to be a ridiculous
pretext for beefing up the police state, padding the pockets
of government bureaucrats and cracking down on basic
human rights and freedom. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, I
say, and if you really want to cap a hot cherry on that
giggle-stick, get thine high self to Actors Cabaret of
Eugene’s current production of Reefer Madness: The
Musical; this sly, sexy and expertly conceived stagework
is to drug hysteria what A Modest Proposal was to Irish
poverty, though where Swift was stark and pissed off,
Reefer Madness remains off-beat and riotously funny.
Adapted for the stage from the outrageous 1936
exploitation film, now a certifiable stoner cult classic,
Reefer Madness centers on the tragic tale of star-crossed
sweethearts Jimmy Harper (Trevor Eichhorn) and Mary
Lane (Sophie Mitchell), a pair of dewy eyed high schoolers
possessed of an almost effervescent innocence; they are
fresh young life incarnate. Enter Jack Stone (Jordan
Nowotny), an unctuously charming snake whose poisons
of choice include dealing joints of “muggle” and abusing
his strung-out girlfriend Mae Coleman (Megan Hammon).
When naive Jimmy happens into Jack’s seedy lair, seeking
swing lessons, the hood sics on him the slatternly Sally
(Monique Morgan), who seduces him to take a toke of the
wacky stuff. Talk about “gateway” drugs: From here,
Jimmy’s collapse includes such high caliber crimes as
grand theft auto, vehicular homicide and back-talking
Jesus himself.
Keenly directed by Joe Zingo, with sophisticated
musical direction by Mark Van Beever (who also excels as
the menacing pothead dunce Ralph), Reefer Madness is an
unqualified triumph for ACE — the material couldn’t be
more well-suited to this homespun troupe’s edgy political
and aesthetic sensibilities, and they sink their collective
teeth into it like hippies into a hash-brownie sundae.
Whether joined in an ensemble musical number like the
schlock-creepy title song, which channels the B-movie
glory of old Hammer horror flicks, or staging the over
determined faux-nostalgia of a sock hop at “the Ol’ Five
and Dime,” the young cast is superb; they prove
astonishingly conversant in the ways of vaudevillian
comedy and Broadway dance. None of the actors should
go unheralded, but I would be particularly remiss here if I
didn’t mention the leads in particular. Mitchell, who was
so stunning in Spring Awakening, may be our finest local
actor; she has a strong, versatile voice, she’s got chops
galore and she exudes charm and charisma. Eichhorn is no
less accomplished, especially in our era’s most undervalued
quality: He’s a first-rate physical comedian. Watching
Eichhorn’s gee-willikers turn as Jimmy brought to mind
both the lanky, loose-limbed grace of a young Jimmy
Stewart and the razzle-dazzle shine of the dancing James
Cagney (or, more recently, stars like Justin Timberlake and
Joseph Gordon-Levitt).
Fine moments and scenes of surpassing hilarity are too
numerous to mention here (where else will you find “taste
so great” with “transubstantiate?”), and besides, far be it
from me to spoil the many surprises and shocks of joy
awaiting unsuspecting audiences. Let it be said, simply,
that the sound, tone, choreography and atmosphere of this
musical — which ranges from unreconstructed pulp noir
and Monty Python-esque gothic to '50s agitprop and a kind
of David Lynch-meets-Busby Berkeley extravagance —
are never less than engaging, joyously so, and it’s a hard,
puritanical heart that won’t warm to the goosing politics
that always lurk just below the surface. There is method to
this madness: Reefer Madness ekes out the insipid and
iniquitous fears that fuel anti-marijuana hysteria —
typically the same anti-youth, anti-sex, counter-
revolutionary puritanical repression that also bolster
abstinence campaigns and book burnings — and it does so
with wit, wisdom and a very healthy dose of parody.
Because let’s face it: In this election season, as with all
vital (and typically depressing) political matters, laughter
remains the best medicine. Get a hit of Reefer Madness,
and let your despair go up in smoke for a night. ■
Reefer Madness: The Musical plays through Nov. 10 at Actors Cabaret of
Eugene, 996 Willamette; ActorsCabaret.org or 683-4368.
eugeneweekly.com • November 1, 2012
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