And Happy New Year

If I were to say “Merry Forking Christmas” to you, it would probably give you pause. You would certainly think twice about bringing your kids to a play by that name if the brochure described a pot-dealing Santa Claus. Wouldn’t you?

That didn’t stop some families today, Dec 19 09, and despite fairly regular profanity, authentic looking bags full of goodies (I am near-sighted but o so familiar), and a character who swills regularly from a flask – and then sings, in a progressively more intoxicated cadence – these families stayed. And with good reason.

A Merry Forking! Christmas, written by Daniel Heath and directed by Devin McNulty and presented by PianoFight productions, is far more than a slew of cheap stoner jokes and a hippie version of Mr. Claus (the latter is my own invention, actually). The play uses a ‘choose your own adventure’ approach to encourage audience participation, which is fitting because the small theater (I counted a few more than 60 seats) is conducive to brown-bagging and vocal enthusiasms are highly likely.

No matter what you choose, though, you’re sure to get a series of scenes you’d be hard-pressed to find a better word for than “poignant” . . . but you’d probably add “hilarious” and “endearing.” Heath’s writing really impressed me; I’ll provide some of my favorite moments below. But it wasn’t just the writing that dazzles. Each of the actors was truly charismatic. I found myself trying to decide which few to talk about and failed miserably, happily! There is a – don’t say police officer – “private security professional” who wants to know what happened to the magical Christmas of his childhood. “Maybe it never was special;” maybe he “was just a stupid child.”

The people he keeps an eye on include a couple to be married in seven days who may have just decided they shouldn’t get married – 37 presents in bags in their hands and only one car between them – a mortician who might be the only person thinking about anyone else but who is always scaring people, a gifted pastry chef who is making ‘special’ cookies while trying to perfect her own, non-laced masterpieces, the aforementioned store manager who is making announcements: “Only 56 magical shopping minutes left before Christmas,” and, of course, the inimitable (and Jewish) Mr. Claus.

I had a chance to talk with Daniel before the play. “It’s really exciting, you know, you put all this work into writing, and then to get to watch these actors put more into it and take it further—it’s very rewarding.” He said this by way of justifying laughter at his own jokes. “I didn’t know if that was cool or not at first. But they [the actors] add something to my writing.”

An accomplishment! Daniel won the Shortlived contest last year, an event that consists of eight submitted short plays being staged over a two week period; audiences vote for the best four and then four more are added, so that the winning play is staged the entire time. His play last year was performed in front of sold out crowds both here and in Los Angeles, and this year should be no different.

Wait. Someone wrote a piano score to this entire play? Yes. His name is Arlen Hart. I thought the music was going to stop but it never did, lending the play stray moments of cartoonish comedy in which the noises signified movements and served to supplement hesitations, punctuations, unspoken vibrations and . . . cell phone rings.

I knew it was going to be funny when one of the opening lines was: “C’mon maaaan, I need some phuckin weed!” and Claus replies: “You must have the wrong Santa.” Then, shortly after, I suspected something a little more hefty when a mother chastises her screaming cookie-fiending child: “When we’re inside we use our inside voices. We use the Socratic method when we want something.” What? What does Socrates know about weed? Ah, the point is: many weed smokers know a thing or two about Socrates. Yes, dear readers. Yes.

Several times the voting was unanimous. This was not for lack of involvement. When Santa is having an emotional moment with the engaged woman, who has recently been left at the mall by her fiancé, the crowd felt unequivocally sympathetic to Santa. Nor were all of the choices used to detect such things; one, for instance, asks the audience if a recurring streaker should break up an impending argument or whether it should continue. No one made any noise for the argument to continue.

When the security guard accosts the pastry chef about what she’s putting in her cookies, she argues that there’s nothing wrong with supporting her vision this way and makes him try one of her personal concoctions. “Damn that’s good,” he says. “Damn good!” and forgets, temporarily, what his argument was.

When Santa decides that he can’t do it anymore a wise Santa appears, who used to work in that mall for thirty years – the best Santa the mall has ever seen. “Santa does not ask. Santa sees. Santa knows.” “If you help them find their way,” he adds, “you may find your own.”

Each of the characters, in fact, experiences their own revelation, and it is in these deft but – yes, I’ll use it again – poignant moments that we see various legitimate takes on the Christmas question and in which we sense the spirit that no one interpretation alone can offer.

There are lines in this play that grasp something very substantial without having to reach; they are not forced, overdone, or overclever. I recently saw David Mamet’s play November and although I liked it I did not find it to be nearly as coherent or well-written as A Merry Forking Christmas. Beyond being saturated with superwit, November is absurd, from start to finish – so absurd that I was unable to write a review of the play without giving away the plot, step for step, because every detail was necessary for an understanding of the story arc.

I learned a lesson today: Christmas is not always on the big stage, people. Get yourselves to Off-Market Theaters between now and January 2nd and get you some Chrimmas! Hell, bring your kids. You’ll laugh together, I promise, and when you leave you will have (re)opened the gates of understanding.

Happy Holidays, and Merry Forking Christmas!