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This latest in a series of review round-ups from deep into the NY International Fringe Festival covers three more visits. First, the rare hit that is both sarcastic and sweet when our prayers for such a treat are answered with Pope! – yes, a comic musical about the Pope with a song called “Holy Crap!” but instead of crap, it’s the cream of the crop. In the Schoolyard is a gentler, nostalgia-tugging tale about longtime male bonding through basketball, even decades after the high school buddies all marry and are scattered. A distinctly different kind of male bonding is at the heart of Open Heart. It is about open sexual relationships, the script taken verbatim from interviews with gay men who are very open about discussing the topic. The Pope would not approve. But the guy named Pope who becomes Pope in Pope! is not your run-of-the-mill Pope.
Hail Mary Elizabeth and hail Mary Katherine and hail Mary Francis, the three nuns in the peppy Pope! – and all its
other characters, too. Perhaps we’d usually spell that as Frances with an E, but nun-the-less, it’s a spiffy and spectacularly entertaining musical with lots and lots of laughs and a sunny disposition. It manages to be irreverent in more ways than one without being mean-spirited, agenda-heavy, or out to get anybody. They’re not metaphorically throwing rocks at the stained glass window and trying to attack the Catholic Church with pellets of sarcasm or mockery. Oh, there’s some points made about blind following of leaders, and trust issues, and power that corrupts. Add to that: the cancer that is jealousy and pain and suffering and the torture of sexual repression and deception and other inconveniences, but mostly it’s a hoot without the smartass smugness subversive subterfuge that can come with such screwy skewering in other musical comedy Fringe field days. Pope! is not holier than thou when delivering its own gospel. It describes itself in its publicity as a “cartoon-style adventure,” and it is. It bills itself as “an epic musical” and that should be taken with a grain or pillar of salt, as it is not overblown or too big for its britches or choir robe, but when the title character is banished, his suffering and struggle to return home and be true to his calling, kind of reflects some mythological or Biblical heroes. We first meet Pope – that’s what his parents named him --- on the last day of eighth grade. He’s introduced with a song in a tongue-in-cheeky driving rock style by a strutting, wild-haired guitar-playing guy, but it’s one of very few small misleading missteps, not quite setting the exact tone we need and soon get. Quite soon, we’re in the Vatican years later and Pope’s goal of being named Pope comes to pass. He’s a cheerful leader, affable, approachable, delivering homilies on whatever is at hand, such as the blueberry muffin put in his hand for breakfast. Life, he tells us, can be like that muffin, the fruit being sweet and worth the…well, you get the idea. The Archbishop becomes his arch enemy and covets his position and trouble, as they say, ensues. Have faith, though, it’s consistently clever and adorable. Even when the Pope can’t cope and starts to lose hope, the musical never loses its sparkle and the cast is always on its game with many little detailed touches and reactions that strike just the right notes. Speaking of notes, the score is delicious and varied, satisfyingly using gospel or religious chant-like modes just occasionally so as not to overindulge by going to the well of holy water too many times. There’s catchy musical comedy dazzle and pop elsewhere. One number recalls a Disney movie romp and another’s rollicking vamp (just the vamp) suggests the theme song from Sesame Street. Songs as performed here sometimes eschew the precise punch of an ending to spur applause, called a “button” in theatre, and a blackout or exit as the song ends might be missing, too, but even if such subtle usual manipulation or precise Pavlovian cues to clap are absent, the crowd is ready to roar with pleasure.
The cast of nine is more than fine and dandy, with some playing multiple roles. Ryan Nelson is immensely likeable and wide-eyed and big-heartedly charming as Pope. Scott Hart uses some classic approaches to comic villain vainness as the Archbishop – a diabolical laugh, a sneer, gloating, flourishes, and a take-charge manner without overkill to overstay his welcome. Michael Campbell as his eager-to-please, if dim, helper is spot on and, pardon the expression, a match made in Heaven. Jonathan Roufaeal is excellent as a Cardinal, as the preening, so self-satisfied Dexter, first seen as a teen, and as Jesus, but not that Jesus you might be expecting.
The show is a family affair that proves that nepotism is no cardinal sin. Justin Moran penned the tight, bright book and lyrics, having honed them in improv workshops through the Magnet Theater. His father, Greg Moran, is the director and runs a tight, talented ship: the show moves crisply, but we’re allowed to savor moments. Justin’s wife, Molly Moran, is another asset in the role of Mary Katherine. The instrumental trio is led by pianist Adam Podd with Matt Podd on percussion and Dillon Kondor is the bass player. They play Christopher Pappas’s feisty, fun, felicitous melodies with theatrical vim and, like everyone else, including the clearly enthusiastic and appreciative, giggling audience, seem to be having a blast. Long live the Pope!
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A modest, mostly low-key, sometimes low-energy musical, In the Schoolyard, looks at the annual reunion of Brooklyn basketball buddies as the years dribble by. It’s no slam-dunk, but its score can score with some pleasant tunes and nice people. But how interesting or specific are they? Well, things can be pretty “low calorie” and generic in this inoffensive, old-fashioned but genial musical. The Brooklyn edge is largely absent, and quickly becomes white bread suburban life in the slow lane. The wives act mostly as appendages of their husbands, inconsistent in their support or dismissal of the annual reunion tradition that is an important touchstone for the men. A wife comes across as more of a shrew when she objects to just one weekend out of 52 that hubby is away, especially when it’s a given that he’s given it a lot of thought of emotion. We could use a little more real dramatic tension or have something at stake in the relationships somewhere, anywhere, besides the one guy who wants business/financial help for another risky venture. Yes, there is a weighty issue that is foreshadowed with gloomy non-subtle foreboding regret in the song, “There Should Be Time.” The drama is revealed rather late in the game of basketball and the show. What bonds them together, besides general palling around as neighbors/schoolmates, shooting hoops and shooting the breeze and rice and beans? We don’t really know beans about them, despite the flashbacks and factoids sprinkled in. The play leans heavily on asking us to put ourselves in their basketball sneakers and remember our own unions and reunions through misty water-colored memories of the way we were when times were simpler and the old neighborhood was cozy and rosy. It’s not gutsy or gritty, but doesn’t try to be; it’s unpretentious and kind-hearted, with obvious affection for its characters and milieu, inspired by the writer’s having heard about a group of such guys in her neighborhood. Paulanne Simmons supplies the book and lyrics, with music by Rachel Kaufman. A line in the program indicates than an earlier mounting had music by another composer. Evan Edwards, who plays one of the guys, is also the director – it’s duly noted that he stepped into that role very, very late, so maybe things will get more bounce and the teamwork will tighten. Choreography is by Eddie Schnecker who plays Jerry. His charm factor grows with his smile and integrity as the play goes on, with his good-guy charms and re-charming of his wife in a number warm-and-fuzzily saying she’ll always and forever be his “High School Sweetheart.” There is a sense of tip-toeing around things and the actors tip-toeing around each other rather than jumping into things with real comfort levels as there needs to be with people who have known each other so long, including those married to each other, not just to basketball. It’s all somehow quite “polite.” Kathryn Kates adds some spice besides what ingredient may be in those damn marvelous rice and beans dishes discussed too much as the mom with more backbone and opinions about not wanting to retire to the boring world she and Mr. Edwards, as her son, sing of in “Florida.” She’s happy where she is, and seemingly this musical is happy to stay in its spot of easy-going, kindly home-sweet-homespun contentment— not groundbreaking or wanting to be.
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And let’s close with Open Heart…. It’s a reality check of sorts with Gay men sorting out their feelings about relationships with long-term partners that include the sexual kind of fringe benefits. The Fringe includes this play about playing around and coming around to having (maybe) rules about it.
Monogamy and that “forsaking all others” stuff seems kind of a dreadfully boring idea to many people and, despite liking the idea of a steady, committed partner are committed to the idea that variety is the spice of life when it comes to sex. Come hear the Gay men who agree and think it has worked for them talk about it. And talk, and talk, and talk. The talk comes from real-life interviews with the guys of all stripes and backgrounds who were happy to have their thoughts and experiences taped. Couples were interviewed together and apart.
It’s unrealistically, impractically, old-fashioned to some to be “faithful” and they have faith that in union there is strength if your sex life has a larger cast than two. But creator-interviewer-director Joe Salvatore is faithful to the men’s words he taped, the press notes tell us, as are the actors, down to every “ummm” and “y’know” and even the accents. With each actor playing more than one of the interviewees, it’s a great showcase for actors’ versatility. In that way, the production is most impressive --- the people generally seem believable and natural, and it never feels like a stunt of chameleon-like display for its own sake. They inhabit the characters, with individual personalities, tics, body energies, mannerisms, etc. for each. And the actors are up to the job, making each guy his own and switching back and forth and exchanging partners, pardon the expression. If you’re looking for juicy voyeurism, ultra-frank and graphic might-make-you-blush sex talk, forget it. They speak more in generalities and feelings. In fact, many of the guys are quite inarticulate and repetitive. The behavior can be more interesting than the content, especially with couples finishing each other’s sentences, disputing each other’s recollections, etc. All are pretty casual in talking about casual sex and matter-of-fact about the facts, occasionally zeroing in on some rules they think can make it work to avoid emotional involvement. What’s clear, is that keeping secrets is what keeps a relationship from working. Agreed-upon, approved, structured dalliances within certain boundaries seem to be fair game in their 
games of love and lust. Despite the variations in men, a lot seems to be the same: if there were a lot of guys saying that the best-laid plans of getting laid caused a different kind of friction and unexpected jealousies or break-ups, you won’t get that drama here. Likewise, second thoughts after agreeing to sexual freedoms don’t pop up. There’s also an actor who sometimes plays a therapist/researcher, but his function and impact and attitude seem occasionally tentative or intrusive. So, what do we make of all this? Some will find it intriguing and be fascinated with what strangers think, find validation or cause to argue another side. Others will feel like it’s T.M.I., but that’s what’s expected here. But when you sit at a restaurant and overhear the next table’s patrons’ very personal conversations, are you bored, annoyed, and loving the eavesdropping? Would you rather focus on your food, or like the food for thought? I’d rather the writer spend his time biting into a new play like his show I saw and admired in the past in Fringe. That piece, titled III (as in “trying a triad” or alternating partners for long periods), was a more intriguing full-length story of real-life Gay artistic people: a couple whose bringing in a third man changed them and had pathos and tension. It’s that situation that spurred him to look into how contemporary Gay men handled such lifestyles. In case you were wondering, here it is.
More Fringe ahead! See www.Fringenyc.org for all the many, many details.
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