Rude Guerrilla stages Jane Martin's seriocomic 1995 play, which skewers both liberal and conservative American whites.

May 17, 2002

By ERIC MARCHESE
Special to the Register

There's been no better source of satirical American comedy over the past few
decades than the sharp distinctions between the politics of the left and
those of the right. In the 1995 play "Middle-Aged White Guys," Jane Martin
uses the characters of three very different brothers to give voice to these
differences, creating both ingenious laughs and some genuine food for
thought.
Rude Guerrilla Theater Company's new staging, directed by Susan E. Taylor,
shows "Middle-Aged White Guys" to be cut from the same ideological cloth as
"Keely and Du" and "Talking With," other plays unveiled by the pseudonymous
Martin at the Actors Theatre of Louisville's Humana Festival of New American
Plays.
If there's a conservative stance to be battled - whether it's on women's
reproductive rights, religious freedoms or the plight of the homeless - you
can be sure Martin will take issue with it in the form of a play.
"Middle-Aged White Guys" takes the more lighthearted route to forcing us to
contemplate several of these aspects of our society. We're at the dumping
grounds of a nameless Midwestern town on July 4, 1994. Many years earlier,
the three brothers Mannering were stars of the high school baseball team.
Now they're just three middle-aged white guys - albeit, each of a very
different stripe morally and politically.
Eldest brother Roy, a pro- big business, pro-school prayer misogynist, has
become the town mayor, proclaiming that the enemies of American society are
Japan and the Democrats while "the good guys," he says, "are
problem-solvers" (and, we gather from his remarks, staunch Republicans).
Middle brother Clem helps Roy's schemes and has no particular political
orientation. Youngest brother "Moon" is a gentle, idealistic Vietnam vet
who's been roaming the world ever since in search of internal peace and a
just society.
What these three have in common is R.V., the sexy gal who loved Moon, was
loved by Clem and was married to Roy. Before her death she made them promise
to pray to her spirit once every 10 years on Independence Day. What they get
on this particular reunion rocks their world: R.V. returns, in the flesh.
The boys' mother, who died of lung cancer and was cremated, returns in
spirit, and she and R.V. chastise an American society of "Eurocentric
Anglo-Saxons" oblivious to the woes they've caused others. At the behest of
the Lord God, whom they call "the celestial She," R.V. and the boys' mom
then summon the "King" of all middle-aged white guys (Elvis Presley) to
persuade them to atone for the sins of their class.
In Taylor's staging, Martin's script plays like two distinct sections - the
ideological battles of the first half, and the blatant satire of the scenes
featuring "the King." The laughs in the first section are at the expense of
the crass profiteer Roy, portrayed by Stan Jenson as a caricature of a
little man who, costumed as Abe Lincoln, looks like a cross between an Amish
farmer and one of the Smith Brothers.
The poetic aspects of Martin's writing come through Moon, the star pitcher
now dedicated to righting the world's wrongs. In his army fatigues and
American flag do-rag, Bob Tully creates a compelling portrait of a
compassionate, cerebral knight haunted with guilt over accidentally killing
a woman and her child in a civil war in Africa, and nearly burned out on
everything else.
April Madigan gives passion and depth to the hell- raising R.V. In baby blue
satin, Matt Cook is an ultra- cool Elvis, slick yet earthy, in a portrayal
more authentic than cartoonish, and Taylor garners seriocomic work from Kent
Vaughan as Clem, Susan Shearer as Roy's oppressed wife, Mona, and Sally
Norton as Mrs. Mannering.

by Rich Kane

Youíd think a comedy called Middle-Aged White Guys would be
confrontational, biting, satiricalóworthy at least of a
halfway funny redneck gag. Or maybe it would take the higher
road, commenting instead on the inanity of blaming societyís
problems on a select racial profile. But Jane Martinís
Middle-Aged White Guys doesnít do either. Itís a
punch-pulling, un-funny play about three right-wing brothers.
Thereís Roy (Stan Jenson), a prayer-in-schools mayor of the
small town where he and his kin grew up; he spends the play
decked out in an Abe Lincoln costume for a Fourth of July
fireworks show. Simple-minded Clem (Kent Vaughan) runs the
local gun store, and Moon (Bob Tully) is a soldier of fortune
who has busied himself fighting in several countries since his
íNam stint.
The brothers have convened in a junkyard to pay homage to the
late R.V. (April Madigan), a woman with whom all three trysted
before she offed herself some 20 years earlier. R.V. doesnít
want to stay planted, though (her name is a pun on the
Official Middle-Aged White Guyís Transport, we assume), so she
returns as an angel of doom, telling the brothers they must
prepare for their Judgment Day. Enter that Lord-God-King White
Guy, Elvis (Matt Cook). Can Elvis redeem Roy, Clem and Moon,
living embodiments of bad white men everywhere? Yes, Elvis
says, not long after he arrives onstage by kicking through a
refrigerator door as snazzy disco lights whirl inside the
theater and tossing out Quaaludes as if they were blessings.
Elvisí guidance: march buck naked to Washington, D.C., and
repent your sins.
It would have been easy to spend an entire play bashing white
men. But Martin (a pseudonym) doesnít give us even an
overabundance of clichÈs; itís a sad commentary on her script
that the addition of just a few hackneyed observations might
have improved itóthe laughs would have been familiar, but at
least they would have been laughs.
At a mere 65 minutes, Middle-Aged White Guys feels more like a
work in progress than fleshed-out art. For something thatís
meant to provoke, it simply isnít provocative. Itís often
sloppy just when precision counts, as when Moon remembers a
tragic mercenary mission: itís a flicker of power, quickly
forgotten and not touched upon again. Even the full-frontal
male nudity weíre promised is somewhat underwhelmingómore dick
time, please! But the Rude Guerrilla Theater Co.óespecially
Susan Shearer as the wigged-out, pistol-wielding Monaódo the
best they can with what theyíve got.
Middle-Aged White Guys by the Rude Guerrilla Theater Co. at
the Empire Theater, 200 N. Broadway, Santa Ana, (714)
547-4688. Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2:30 p.m.; Thurs., May 30,
8 p.m. Through June 2. $12-$15.