Fitting in with ‘Sherlock’ and ‘The Lyons’
The Lyons begins with the end. Act 1, set entirely in a hospital room, is about a dysfunctional family tentatively coming together while dear ol’ dad (Terry Vandivort) is in the grip of a death-rattle that includes spewing contempt for his gay son Curtis (Austin Tindle) and compassion for his flaky daughter Lisa (Kristen McCullough) while wife Rita (Georgia Clinton) prattles on about redecorating as soon as he’s a corpse. It’s dark humor with a Jewish accent, where guilt trips are about the only vacations these combative folks take together.
When Act 2 starts, however, the tone changes substantially; it’s all about Curtis (just part of the ensemble in Act 1), and his back-story seems darker, more pathetic than we imagined. We always knew he was damaged goods, but he’s sadder now, awkwardly flirting with a Realtor (Christopher Deaton, pictured above, with Tindle) in a spiral of desperation. Then it ends up, more or less, where it started: Back in a hospital room, though the dynamic is different.
That all makes Nicky Silver’s family comedy-drama a strangely bifurcated — or really, trifurcated — play. What’s it about? What’s its focus? It feels more like the pilot of a premium cable TV series than a self-contained play. You could just as easily follow the sister, or the mom, on the misadventures that got them to this point. Why just the son?
Nevertheless, Silver shows facility with the kind of sharp one-liners Neil Simon used to specialize in, updated for the current millennium, and it coasts well on those. It helps that the best of them are delivered with laser-like snark by Clinton, chief narcissist in this hive of self-involved losers. Vandivort’s slow-boil rage, expressed with spits of anti-paternal disappointment, are priceless as well, and Tindle embodies a defensive posture than makes you believe he’s not at home in his own skin. When your skin comes courtesy of these genes, why would you feel comfortable?
Almost as dysfunctional, though far more famous, is Sherlock Holmes (Chamblee Ferguson, pictured below), the OCD-afflicted, drug-addled consulting detective of Conan Doyle’s many stories, who solves crimes using pure logic (he’s sort of a 19th century Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory, without the understanding of astrophysics). But has the time finally come when Holmes will allow himself to be blinded by feelings for a woman (Jessica D. Turner), and make a misstep that will cost his life at the hand of the villainous Professor Moriarty (Regan Adair)?
Sherlock Holmes: The Final Adventure is based on a century old play by William Gillette, one of those Victorian-era impresarios who traveled the world performing his best-known character for decades. Playwright Steven Dietz has updated the language and structure, but left intact the melodrama, which director Kevin Moriarty happily emphasizes: Brooding, spooky- house music, moody lighting, elaborate sets and costumes and even more elaborate entrances. If you can allow yourself to be swept away in the camp of it all, there’s a certain delicious enjoyment of experiencing the iconic detective, well-played by Ferguson.
But the script eschews some basic bits of Holmesiana (Mrs. Hudson, the Baker Street Irregulars, Sherlock’s violin solos) and you find your mind darting toward missed opportunities. When you serve up this much ham, you expect all the fixin’s with it. That’s not rocket science; it’s elementary.
The Lyons, through May 18. UptownPlayers.org. Sherlock Homes: The Final Adventure, through May 25. DallasTheaterCenter.org.