‘Popcorn’

The Villagers offer one of the most cynical, callous, irreverent comedies you will ever see.

By: Stuart Duncan
   Michael Driscoll has done it again. Popcorn in the Black Box spaces at the Villagers is one of the most cynical, callous, irreverent comedies you will ever see. It is also one of the most brilliantly funny — a veritable gale of entertainment.
   British playwright Ben Elton has apparently built a reputation as a BBC-TV writer. Here he offers a little-disguised, full-frontal attack on the American way of life, as seen by the TV networks, complete with four-letter words (and the working gerundives thereof) and bodily functions (both natural and otherwise), accompanied by extraordinarily perceptive insights into the American fascination with violence and a nagging insistence that "no one is ever at fault." Our land of opportunity has never seemed so smutty.
   We are in the lush Beverly Hills home of Bruce Delamitri (Scott Bishop). (It’s a British comedy, so we have last names for our characters.) It is Oscar night, and although Bruce plays down the chances of his winning for "Best Director," his agent, Karl Brezner (Greg Louis), feels that his film has enough sex and violence to win. Bruce’s estranged wife, Farrah (Patricia Idell), and daughter, Velvet (Jessica Gill), are suitably thrilled with the opportunity to "dress up." The scene is mercifully brief, filled with enough dirty talk to suggest that neither young children, nor maiden aunts, should be asked to attend.
   By the next episode, we have met Wayne Hudson (Barrett Phelan in a performance that steals the evening) and "Scout" (Lilli Ana Marques, who steals it right back). Each carry guns, plenty of tattoos and what people these days like to call "an attitude." It turns out they are the infamous "Mall Murderers," but for now Bruce’s satin sheets on the upstairs master bed will suffice.
   Soon enough Bruce comes back, with his Oscar and the February Playboy centerfold on his arm. ("I’m not a Bunny; I’m a centerfold.") The role is nicely played by Jennifer Pellegrine. Be warned, bodies will start to pile up; by the final curtain you may be comparing the total to Hamlet.
   Playwright Elton has written some of the nastiest dialogue in years, and a packed opening-night audience laughed its knowledgeable heads off and rose to its feet as one for a final ovation. In truth, Elton has blasted his message a bit too heavily for sophisticated theatergoers, especially in an unnecessary epilogue that gets a few more laughs. We even have a network TV crew, forced to strip to their underwear in order to bring the audience "live" coverage. The press release calls Popcorn a "satirical comedy thriller." I call it much more than that — one of the funniest shows in years, with a big bite to its barbs.
   The Black Box series continues to show just how much can be done with ingenuity in place of money. Here a lovely set design cost just under $60. Moreover, director Driscoll has re-configured the audience spaces for maximum impact. Just make sure you leave the kids home.
Popcorn plays at the Villagers, 475 DeMott Lane, Somerset, through Jan. 25. Performances: Fri.-Sat. 8 p.m., Sun. 2 p.m. Tickets cost $12. For information, call (732) 873-2710. On the Web: www.villagerstheatre.com