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Santa Land Diaries: Oh so very, very naughty…

To which Sedaris replies in a disfiguring British accent, “Only my wit.”

 

Sedaris is not British, not even close. He grew up in a middle-class suburb in jar-your-own-jam North Carolina. He has the slight build of a horse jockey and an unmistakably distinctive high-pitched nasal voice that is the cross between Truman Capote and Daffy Duck. Among his list of mid-life achievements are: playwright, radio personality, children’s book writer, autobiographer, and comedian. His unique brand of self-deprecating humor turns the most soul-smothering, ego crushing experiences upside down until they’re hanging from the rafters, hair on hilarious end.

 

You name the torment -- speech impediments, drug abuse, family dysfunction, coming out as a homosexual to one’s parents, solicitation, food stamps, etc… -- and Sedaris has endured it. He does not, however, take the pains of adolescence and young “artistic” adulthood “like a man,” per se, but rather, in the most writhing, awkward way possible until a god-given flair for mockery kicks in. Sedaris is the archetypical scrawny kid on the playground continually tortured by the school bully until one swirley too many, brains make up for brawns and out comes them fight’n words: “So, what’s it like being in the same math class as your baby sister?” He still gets his bony ass kicked, but at least he goes down in a blaze of comedic glory.

 

William Blake wrote: “The excess of sorrow laughs.” Sedaris has suffered his share of mental and physical adversity. And out of the gurgling cesspool of pain, rejection, humiliation, failure, and heartbreak comes the Romp Thing -- a humanoid mass of oozing, sidesplitting laughter. I remember sitting outside a coffee shop in Athens, Georgia reading Sedaris’ book “Me Talk Pretty One Day,” and literally shooting my hazelnut cappuccino right out of my nose. It was then and there that Sedaris became one of the top three people I’d most want to be stranded on a desert island with.

Maybe I’m idealizing, but I really believe he’d be able to make a joke out of the whole frightening ordeal. Nearly devoured by the engulfing flames of our sinking aircraft, he’d crawl onto shore, pick up the dead, rotting corpse of a fish and say, “Well, at least now I can finally stick to my South Beach diet plan.” Then, weeks into our castaway lifestyle, he’d saunter out onto the tree-house breakfast nook and say in his best Architectural Digest accent: “You absolutely can not beat the wide open skylight.”

 

Therefore -- in the midst of the anti-cheer stressfest of crowded food courts and mall rage that is so often the Holidays, I could think of no better gift for myself than a ticket to see the Horizon Theater’s adaptation of “Santa Land Diaries,” Sedaris’ play based on his short story of the same name. In a nutty nutshell, “Santa Land” chronicles Sedaris’ own journey of moving to New York City in hopes of achieving instant soap opera stardom as a cast member on One Life To Live; but instead, finds his broke ass donning green tights and gold lame knickers as a Macy’s ELF in Santa’s Village. I won’t give away much of the hysterical, irreverent plot, suffice it to say: The actor who plays Sedaris, who plays “Crumpet” the elf, Harold M. Leaver, is sensational. He captures the self-conscious, cynical essence of a grown man in an elf costume whose job it is to bring endless mirth and cheer to bratty children and their overbearing parents to a “T” -- all the while adding his own cheeky twists and touches to the play.

 

For example: At one point, Leaver pulls a very attractive man out of the front row of the theater and flirtatiously asks him to fasten his elfin bowtie for him. Holding his hand the entire time, Leaver says, “Just back into me and you can reach it better.”

By this point, the audience is rolling over with laugher while the man’s face turns from a light crimson hue to boiled red cabbage. Leaver points to the woman now sitting beside the empty seat and asks, “Are you his girlfriend.” When she nods her head yes, Leaver bashfully replies: “Sorry girl! Once you go elf, you never go back.”
 

At another time, the actor recounts all his other occupational failures: From UPS driver to wood carver. “All I ever managed to whittle was this bong” -- Picks up snowman bong with giant pipe soldered to the crotch.

 

I can’t possibly capture in words the subtle, and of course over-the-top nuances that make “Santa Land Diaries” so wildly entertaining. I find that scathing satire is best understood when seen, not read. Case in point, I can say: In this scene, a grown man in a sequenced elf costume whispers into a woman’s ear: “Well then, I’m going to have you killed” --after she threatens to have him fired… BUT, actually watching said scene unfold is truly unforgettable. I could also say that in the 90 minute performance, the lead actor manages to play “Crumpet” the elf, Sedaris the man, and several different kinds of Santa’s all the while breaking effortlessly in and out of the theatrical “fourth wall” to interact with the audience; alongside him, his two sidekicks also wear their fare share of character “hats” with as much mesmerizing ease. But again, seeing is believing…

 

Of course, like most of Sedaris’ stories, underneath the scandalous, sexually explicit, and self-deprecating layers, there lies a painful truth: In “Santa Land Diaries,” that may be that human beings, at their herded core, completely lack decency and integrity -- which is pretty sad, if it wasn’t so damn funny.

 

“Santa Land Diaries” continues at the Horizon Theater through January 4.