Lysistrata Jones: Aristophanes in college is surprisingly baller
II’ll cop to being a bit of a grump about geeks-versus-jocks tropes. The culture offers only so many ways to celebrate the necessarily limited “computer nerd wins hot cheerleader by not being rape-y cretin” story. Ditto any star-crossed romance between the sports captain and the art chick. (Trash those ponytail holders, ladies — there’s a Rachael Leigh Cook in all of us!)
Lysistrata Jones, now playing at Egads Theatre, doesn’t necessarily shake those narrative templates, and its modern take on the ancient Greek source material rings a bit hollow. A sex strike to end a bloody war is one thing, but to win a college basketball game? Yet the musical is also one of the most infectious, unapologetically fun productions I’ve seen this season.
The musical’s book, by Douglas Carter Beane (of To Wong Foo fame), adds some surprisingly fresh jokes and glimmers of self-awareness to a familiar story line. The basketball team at Athens University hasn’t won a game in 33 years, and cheerleader Lysistrata Jones — girlfriend of the team captain, Mick — is totally tired of spurring on the losing team. She corrals her pompom entourage and proposes a pact: no more sex until their boyfriends start scoring on the court.
Lysistrata turns out to be a more dedicated and intelligent leader than her gratuitous Valley Girl dialect suggests. Mandy Morris is almost exhausting to watch in the title role, so committed is she to her character’s crusade. Her comedic timing and wide-eyed facial expressions are spot-on, and when she flashes a rare dark look or a sudden shift into a serious register, she disarms us. In her reading, there’s more to “Lyssie J” than perk and good genes.
Teal Holliday lends her knockout voice to Hetaira, Eros Motor Lodge escort and the musical’s mystical, all-knowing narrator. Phil Newman plays resident nerd and Spartan mascot Xander with lovable confidence (and deliberately poor dance moves), and Daria LeGrand is as charming as ever as part-time poet and work-study librarian Robin.
Tiffany Powell choreographs crisp dance sequences for each number, combining elements of hip-hop with athletic show-choir steps, and everyone is up to the challenge. Even in the most demanding high-energy numbers, the ensemble’s vocal quality never dips, a testament to this cast’s strength and shape. Powell and director Steven Eubank work well together to create dynamic stage pictures and to make the most of multiple playing areas.
Bold technical elements add to the production’s style: Alex Perry’s contemporary lights give texture and a youthful palette to the stage, and Morgan Myers’ costumes aid characterization by combining off-the-rack pieces in clever ways.
Full-company numbers such as “You Go Your Way” offer classic musical-theater hooks, and there isn’t a weak link in Egads’ cast. It’s the writing that doesn’t always hit the mark. Cleonice is a two-hour punch line of offensive Latina stereotypes, and talented actor Matthew Lindblom deserves a commendation for his somehow-sympathetic portrayal of Cinesias, a privileged, white, self-proclaimed “pimp daddy” who rages about his “slave name.”
The romances, too, can feel a little ’90s-romcom retro. It takes putting her in a cheerleader uniform for anyone to notice that the poetry-slamming librarian is, well, slamming. But the chemistry among the actors, especially between Morris and Newman, is enough to make you smile even as you sometimes roll your eyes.
I’ve complained before about the crackling sound system at Off Center, but I’m going to keep harping on it as long as it keeps marring good work. Spotty feedback noises suck the life out of some exceptional performances here. What should be a tender ballad — Mick’s “When She Smiles” — was DOA the night I saw the show, thanks to constant audio interruptions and mics cutting out. (P.T. Mahoney, an absolute pro, kept his cool.)
And I’ll put my money where my mouth is: If someone fires up a Kickstarter campaign to fix the issue, I’ll be the first to contribute. Egads’ actors and designers are too good to be undercut by equipment issues.
Lysistrata Jones‘ pop power should make it a summer hit, despite a target demographic that I can’t quite place. The sunny story line and smartphone-speak seem meant to appeal to younger viewers, but some of the language (and lingerie prancing) may give parents pause. Either way, the musical will be heaven for the toe-tapping show-choir set, and the script comes packed with enough referential jabs and genuine laughs to charm the sarcastic and the sedentary alike.
