Laughter lurks in American Stage's 'Irma Vep'

Thank the celluloid gods for "Rebecca," "The Mummy's Curse" and "The Wolf Man." If it weren't for these classic thriller-slash(er)-horror films, Charles Ludlam might never have created "The Mystery of Irma Vep." "Vep" is an inspired piece of writing, at once a spoof of and tribute to cinema's shelved generation. And who better to kowtow to Ludlam's wit, while hailing American Stage Theatre's 36th season, than actors extraordinaire Matthew McGee and Brian Webb Russell?

The brief report is that this was a stupendous production - one of the funniest shows, if not the funniest, I've had the pleasure of reviewing. The long version that earns a paycheck goes like this:

The play requires two actors to take the stage and portray five, six, maybe seven (I lost count) different characters - both male and female. Quick costume changes and a touch of theater magic make the impossible impossibly hilarious and doable.

Lord Edgar Hillcrest (McGee) has brought his bride, Lady Enid (Russell), home to Mandacrest. The intimidating Jane Twisden (McGee), who is a big fan of the former Lady Hillcrest, a.k.a. Irma Vep, attends the house. Nicodemus Underwood (Russell) is the estate's Sherpa, and Jane keeps him in check with numerous swats from her dusting rag.

Jane tells Enid about Irma Vep, her death and the unsolved murder of her son, Victor. Then come the questions about the local werewolf, Irma's true identity, a mummy in Egypt and Jane's sanity. These mysteries mount until the original plot gets lost in a succession of crazy side trips, poofy attire and mist from the haunting moors.

This wacky farce, bravely and skillfully directed by Todd Olson, was made more riotous by the unscripted accidents on stage opening night. When Russell knocked over and broke a vase, he and McGee deftly incorporated the boo-boo into the show, adlibbing snarky remarks that kept me giggling well into the next scene. Russell's unbelievable getup as Enid also challenged his ability to close doors without catching his skirt or disrupting other small, hapless props. He knew he made an ugly, ungainly woman, and he showed the audience no mercy during a brief moment of irony.

This is a must-see production, folks. Run, walk, crawl if you have to. Just get to American Stage before Oct. 11.