Donkey Con
By MICHAEL SMITH World Scene Writer, 3/13/2004
ABOVE: From left, Joseph Gomez as Lucius, Lynn Kelsey as Pam Phile and Sara Cruncleton as Fotis in the Nightingale Theater production of "The Golden Ass." MICHAEL WYKE/Tulsa World.
BELOW: The second act of "The Golden Ass" is played out through cut wood shadow puppets, STEPHEN HOLMAN/Tulsa World
'The Golden Ass' is an age-old tale told with new vigor in Nightingale production
Lucius is a guy who really knows how to make an ass out of himself.
No, really.
It's his burden to bear in exchange for his morbid curiosity about all things sexual and mystical in the Midwestern Theater Troupe adaptation of "The Golden Ass," which opened Thursday at the Nightingale Theater.
Director John Cruncleton has fashioned the mother of all donkey stories with more than enough hee-haw laughs to make it a comic joy and more than enough storylines to be a bit of a burden, as well.
But the unique artistry of a second-act shadow puppet show, the quality of the overripe camp nature and the pure glee with which it's performed are reason enough to attend this work.
The tale by Apuleius is a 2,000-year-old novel and the oldest work of fiction in Latin to have survived in its entirety.
The story's hero, Lucius (played with gusto by Nightingale favorite Joseph Gomez), is a young man eager to experience all that life holds, and as we meet him he's arriving in a village with a letter of introduction.
It's hardly needed, as the odd citizenry goes out of its way to meet the handsome new kid in town. There's a crusty fellow with a wine skin who tries to warn Lucius of troubles ahead. There's a town official who rides piggyback on a sycophant. Upon arriving at his host destination, Lucius runs into the bosom of his lusty aunt (literally), a slave girl with the munchies among other urges and the flatulent master of the house.
A shadowy conscience tells Lucius to indulge in these new experiences, and he happily leaps before looking. There also are tales of face-eating witches and reanimated corpses to be heeded, but he's savoring too much bawdy naughtiness to notice.
Following a fantastic practical joke that makes for some superb theater, Lucius finally meets crisis ass-on. Eager to experience the sensations of a bird, he resorts to witchcraft, but an unfortunate pharmaceutical error turns him into a donkey.
He is left braying at his situation as the first act ends, and the return to action finds the actors have left the stage to manipulate shadow puppets who tell the entire second-act tale. They recount the hero's adventures as an animal, as well as many other ribald, witty stories, from behind five black, backlit screens.
The interplay of the vocals (which are on tape) with the puppet imagery is at times hilarious and at other times exhausting. It's a pleasant realization as this concept begins, watching the puppets jump about and hearing the story told in a style not that different from reading a book to a child.
The trouble is that much of this fable's complex meanderings are told at such a rate as to conjure up the image of a father inducing a little one to slumber in record time through speed-reading.
This rapidity is the only thing that keeps this show to a 130-minute length, because there's a lot of information to process. To extend the storytelling idea to "The Golden Ass," there's a plotline here, and a plotline there, here a plotline, there a plotline, everywhere a plotline.
Yet much of Cruncleton's largess in this department can be forgiven thanks to the pleasure of the rampant sexual innuendo and folk-tale feel of his punchline-filled adaptation, which aims for high metaphysics and low comedy and hits its targets.
There are misfires here and there, but the success rate and sheer audacity of this undertaking is enough to applaud the director-writer-puppeteer.
The ensemble company of Gomez, Cruncleton and his wife, Sara, Lynn Kelsey, Heather Sams, Jason Watts, Owen Froeschle, David Dillinger Jefferis and James Wilson all have humorous high points. Wilson provides excellent musical accompaniment, and all put in yeoman efforts switching from playing multiple characters in live-action to puppet master.
Being transformed into an ass would certainly be a tragedy, but admit it -- it would also be a hoot. Proving once again that comedy is pain plus time, "The Golden Ass" is a lot of fun after 2,000 years.
The Midwestern Theater Troupe production of "The Golden Ass" continues with 8 p.m. performances Saturday, Thursday-Friday and March 20 at the Nightingale Theater, 1416 E. Fourth St. Tickets are $8 and may be reserved by calling 583-8487 [As of February 2007, 633-8666].