Adrift in Macao
Book and Lyrics by Christopher Durang
Music by Peter Melnick
Directed by Sheryl Kaller
59E59 Theaters
59 East 59th Street
Review by Christopher Zara
Acclaimed playwright Christopher Durang likes to make a distinction between his
satiric plays and his works of pure entertainment. His new musical Adrift in
Macao, which is receiving its New York premiere at 59E59 Theaters, is
unmistakably intended for the latter category. A plucky little romp through the
well-established precepts of film noir parody, Adrift makes no attempt to
burden us with messages or morals. It exists simply to make us chuckle — and
perhaps to infect us in the process with its all-too-catchy soundtrack.
The story opens in 1950s Macao, China, where a plush nightclub seems to attract
nothing but perpetual drifters from the United States. Mitch (Alan Campbell), an
unshaven fugitive wanted for a murder he didn’t commit, shows up at the venue
searching for a Mr. McGuffin — an elusive Irishman Mitch says is the real
killer. By sheer coincidence, the club’s smooth-talking owner, Rick Shaw (Will
Swenson), confesses that he may be able to track McGuffin down. As Mitch awaits
news of the Irishman’s whereabouts, he develops an undeniable chemistry with the
club’s tough new singer Lureena (Rachel De Benedet), a blonde bombshell who
finds Mitch’s gruffness irresistible. Unfortunately for Lureena, the embittered
fugitive is more concerned with clearing his name than falling for some broad in
a smoky nightclub.
Film noir has certainly been treated to its fair share of parody in recent
years. The genre was most brilliantly spoofed in Charles Busch’s hilarious
Die, Mommie, Die!, first on stage and then in the 2003 film. Still, Durang’s
playful noir send up is not without purpose. The playwright clearly adores films
like “Casablanca,” where every line uttered is a either a sweeping metaphor or a
profound axiom, and that adoration keeps Durang from rising above his subject
matter. As a result, we get not just one-liners about dames and fedoras but also
relatable characters and a clever whodunit. The cast does well in keeping up
with the story’s manic pace. Particularly strong is Orville Mendoza as Rick’s
enigmatic assistant Tempura. Mendoza takes this intentionally one-dimensional
Asian stereotype and, on a dime, transforms it into a performance of incredible
comic range.
Adrift in Macao is itself adrift at times, particularly during the first
half hour where Durang spends too much time establishing the absurdity of his
universe. Most of us are already quite familiar with this crazy world, and we
know paying proper homage to it should amount to more than a hill of beans.