Trey Parker, co-creator of Southpark, goes from suburban to settler in Cannibal! The Musical at the Dallas Hub Theater. Level Ground Arts continues to pursue their guignol appetite following their production of Evil Dead The Musical with another show that proves that music goes well with severed limbs and fake blood. This is not a show for the faint of heart or the weak of stomach or the sensitive of ear. Unlike the later Southpark episodes that skewer hot topics with satirical sadism, this humble musical is content to take on our biggest taboo with relish. Cannibalism.
The story concerns Parker played with gleeful swagger by Zac Ramsey who is in jail for killing and eating the party of miners he was leading to Breckenridge. Told in flashback to sympathetic reporter Polly (Brittany Levraea), Parker’s journey starts accidentally as the group that was going loses its guide. It takes on a personal imperative when he loses his horse whom he loves played coyly by Melody Jones. The group runs afoul of Trappers led by Squeak played with hilarious intensity by Tyler Wilson, an eye squirting confederate Cyclops played by the versatile Mark Dalton, Italian Indians led by a sort of Chief Boyardee played by music director M. Shane Hurst and finally the unforgiving snow of Colorado played by two inches of cotton batting on the steps in one aisle. The low budget approach fits the irreverent antics of the script perfectly and there are as many laughs in the way they accomplish the bits and gags as the bits and gags themselves. And considering the amount of blood there are more than a bit of gags to go around. Word to the wise: dress down or cover up with the sheets provided.
This play with songs engages the same sense of possibility of wandering that Southpark uses. It turns out that cannibalistic settlers can have just as many adventures as latch key kids. Actually, there is little crossover from the show except for the constant refrain of “You guys,” and whatever spontaneous outburst the cast wants to add. They are obviously devotes of the town with “friendly faces everywhere; humble folks without temptation” and they know how to delight the audience and each other with Southpark references or whatever else they think is funny at that moment. And I mean whatever.
Whether you think it is poor taste or palate cleansing, the Belushi-esque not ready for prime time attitude is very winning. The players are unguarded as they throw themselves into the silly and their abandon is beguiling. The first song says in Oklahoma-esque tones that it’s going to be a “shpadoinkle” day. How can anyone resist such a nonsensical word sung with such honest intention? The singing is mostly horrible with one exception Brittany Levaea gives a lovely performance of a love song. The director wisely cuts against this one moment of beauty by walking upstage in janitor garb sweeping. He knows that artistry is the one thing from which they won’t be able to recover.
Cannibal! The Musical is not a triumph of directing per se. Bill Fountain has found an ensemble of enfants terrible. His is a triumph of herding, coaxing and corralling. The production capitalizes on the creativity and audacity of its cast. The directing coup here is the uniformity of tone. Everyone is willing to engage in the outrageous and they are all given a chance to shine. So much so that the director must fight to keep the evening from turning into a game of puerile one-upmanship. As the production moves through its run, the challenge will only get more difficult. Fortunately, the audience will tell the players what works and what doesn’t. On opening night, the saloon girl who carried the map made a few discoveries during her many trips on stage. By the end of the run, she’s liable to get very schticky.
This show isn’t theater; it’s fun. This is the perfect destination for going out with friends. It traffics in youthful confidence. So, it helps to know your Southpark from your Strongbad and your Sandler from your Sandberg, but that doesn’t mean you have to be young to enjoy it. As long as you are up for a shpadoinkle evening, you’ll have a blast.
