Theater review: The Mascot, at the Living Room, is sporty and funny (if not deep)
Die-hard sports fans run the gamut. There are the tamer enthusiasts, who name their babies after players and coaches or get tattoos of their favorite players. On the more extreme end, “you have your stalkers, your field-chargers, and your murderous psychopaths,” notes Bleacher Report. (See the famous 1990s Texas cheerleader case.)
Perhaps playwright Jerry Hickey had these not-uncommon instances in mind when he concocted his new (and debut) comedic play The Mascot, an Agile Rabbit Productions event onstage at the Living Room Theatre, in which he parodies college-level sports fanatics by spoofing how far some will go.
In this satiric (and fictional) take, University of Notre Dame professor Darby (Matt Rapport) goes to rather bizarre lengths to sire a future quarterback with his Norwegian wife, Astrid (Jen Mays). But when their son, Knute (named for famous Norwegian-American Notre Dame coach Knute Rockne), aspires to a life in the theater, Darby regroups. His son will have to try out for Notre Dame’s football mascot, the leprechaun, instead. Problem is, Knute (Sam Cordes) doesn’t want to be a leprechaun. He wants to go to USC.
But Knute strikes a deal with his unrelentingly overbearing and scheming father — who keeps a bust of Rockne prominently placed in the family home — and agrees to attend Notre Dame, for a time. Antics and complications, of course, ensue when he rooms with a wealthy high-strung maniac named Dooley (R.H. Wilhoit), who dreams of his own leprechaun glory; meets goth-girl Dia (Emma Carter), who lives in an off-campus convent; and runs into (literally) the mascot’s Chaplain Reamus (Coleman Crenshaw).
Exaggerated performances accentuate large-canvas buffoonery. The comedy is not only visually and physically cartoonish but also calls up Warner Bros.’ cartoon characters, notes director Peter Zazzali, who has put together an animated, comic-book-style production. In this mode, too, are drawn graphic projections that help illustrate the story’s different settings (including Notre Dame’s famous gold dome), and slide-whistle and other sound effects timed to act like comedians’ drum rim shots.
Charismatic cast members don’t just take ownership of their characters but have full possession of this show. Like character cutouts in a popup book, their outstanding comic performances draw out The Mascot’s best elements, and their images remain fixed in our minds: Cordes’ Knute ramping up rage at the nickname “Knuter,” the Nordic knowingness of Mays’ Astrid, the stealthy secretiveness and allure of Carter’s Dia, the manic uptightness (and rash) of Wilhoit’s Dooley, the ever-increasing debilitated state of Crenshaw’s chaplain, and the ridiculously outsized mania of Rapport’s Darby.
Hickey, who has spent his career as a writer in marketing and advertising, applies his skill to an often-funny, tongue-in-cheek script armed with double-entendres and wordplay — many jokes, embedded in dialogue, breeze by. Yet the play’s ultimate pratfalls come from imbalanced plotting and the cartoonish approach that also makes it work.
In program comments, Hickey says the play isn’t so much about Notre Dame or the leprechaun mascot but about a young man who doesn’t want to disappoint his father. Yet mascot rivalries and winding subplots dominate the story. The resolution is far too swift, and the strongest parental bond seems that of son and mother — Cordes’ and Mays’ nuanced portrayals realized with humor, warmth and just enough depth.
Cartoons can be more than silly — and more complex than they first appear. The Mascot certainly entertains, but this dark comedy, like a good drama, would offer far more if it dug a bit beneath its surface.
The Mascot
Through April 29, at the Living Room Theatre, 1818 McGee, 816-550-0748, themascotplay.com
