|
Everybody Takes Lumps In Gridiron Show |
|
|
|
|
Written by Eric Francis, Contributing Writer
|
|
Friday, 15 August 2008 |
When
the singing, dancing, skewering lawyers of central Arkansas take the
stage for the Gridiron Show, nobody's cows are sacred. And this year,
Argenta got to take its lumps, too.
The Arkansas Bar Association's biennial benefit is running through
Saturday night at The Rep in Little Rock, and while the names may have
changed the end is the same: Satire and sarcasm, with a liberal dose of
puns, all meant to take the high and mighty down a notch and cause the
audience to cough up more than a few laughs in the process.
More on the jump
The 2008 edition was set at the Governor's Mansion, and controlling
it all (including the governor, himself) was First Lady Ginger Beebe
(played by Carol Holiman) who was busy preparing for a huge dance
competition at the mansion. But even before Miz Ginger took the stage,
the show opened with the spotlight on Hillary Clinton, boozing it up in
an attempt to wash away the pain of losing the Democratic presidential
nomination. Clinton was extravagently portrayed by Kathryn Pryor, who
overacted the would-be nominee's every perceived fault and character
flaw -- and she belted out Hillary's numbers with confidence and power,
to boot.
Holiman's Ginger Beebe, clearly, was the foil to the frustrated
former First Lady. Pert, perky, immaculately coiffed and weilding the
kind of passive-aggressive authority that only a true Southern belle
can, Ginger deals with each group of contenders who have arrived for
the contest. It's in the second act, just before the first big ensemble
number, that Argenta gets speared. As Ginger is marshaling the
contestants, she calls forward the Cult of Argenitals -- a black-clad
foursome reminiscent of Goth teenagers, bearing signs declaring
Argenta's superiority and proclaiming the downfall of the River Market,
and admitting their secret plans to, among other things, bring the
Eiffel Tower to the riverfront. Ginger dispatches them to the guest
house and, sadly, that's all we hear of the Argenitals for the rest of
the show ... except for one excellent punch line.
The song-and-dance routines of the Gridiron -- like so many amateur
theater efforts -- show both the strengths and weaknesses of the
players. Treading these boards are lawyers and their minions -- law
clerks, paralegals, secretaries, etc. -- not thespians. Yet if someone
is late with a line or sings a little off-key, nobody's likely to mind.
After all, it's the content that draws people to the Gridiron -- the
biting and sometimes downright merciless satire penned by a group of
authors known only as the Clandestine Committee. When you're all but
slandering politicians and powerful lawyers in front of hundreds of
people, anonymity is a must. Especially when you cast people as sitting
judges and they proceed to boast about exactly how judgmental they are
when it comes to the lawyers who appear in their courts -- "We look
down on everything, including you!" Indeed.
Still, for its amateur underpinnings, the show featured some
stellar performances. The aforementioned Pryor as Hillary Clinton was
probalby the closest thing to a show-stopper. She looked constantly
manic, and she didn't hesitate to deliver lines that lampooned
Clinton's every campaign-trail gaffe. And when her archnemesis took to
the stage -- Barrack Obama, portrayed by Jonathan Bostick -- there
wasn't so much chemistry as chemical reaction between the two. Bostick
was another standout, entering for the first time with cartwheels and
flips, echoing the presumptive Democratic nominee's poise and telegenic
manner. Paired with his sharp-tongued wife Michelle (Marie-B Miller)
and backed by a bevy of funky fanatics, Bostick rapped about his
triumph and lorded over his erstwhile opponent, while Hillary and her
backers could do no better than shout "Pastor Wright!" at him.
There were some fairly predictable lowbrow moments, such as Bill
Clinton (Bob Roddey) and Mike Huckabee (Don Barnes) lamenting their
has-been status while cooing over Cindy McCain (played by, well, the
top half of a mannequin). And the fecundity of the Duggar family of
northwest Arkansas took its share of pokes, too -- now there's a joke
that's long past its "best if used by" date in this state. But there
were also some clever diversions that took on some other high-profile
Arkies, such as Arkansas Times boss Max Brantley (Don Bennett) singing
of his masochistic fetish for Democrat-Gazette publisher Walter Hussman
(Bill Robinson), who cracked his whip and cackled in the background,
during "Whatever Hussman Wants, Hussman Gets."
If the show had a weak spot -- and boy howdy, did it -- it was the
face-off between President Bush (Steve Giles) and the White House Press
Corps. Though it started with Bush drilling the corps like they were
Army privates, it quickly degenerated into the all too preachy "Seasons
of War," in which Bush recounts his administration's every failing. It
was too slow, too moralistic and just killed the momentum they'd built
up. The same points could have been made with more humor or more edge.
Fortunately, the final scene rounds out with another barn burner
from Hillary, twisting the song "Everything's Coming Up Roses" from the
musical "Gypsy" into a desperate cry for answers: "Well, someone tell
me, when is it my turn/if it's not two thousand and eight?" And while
the final number -- George Bush singing his own version of "Footloose"
-- coudn't touch Hillary's swan song, it still wrapped the show up
nicely. Especially when several hundred thousand dollars of unexpected
budget surplus rained down upon the stage.
Ah, but what about the Argenta redux? Well, it happens not long
after Ginger Beebe assigns the northsiders to the guest house. Aide Ron
Maxwell (Greg Jones) comes out to inform her that an unexpected guest
has arrived -- Satan -- and they haven't found someplace to put him up.
"Should we put him in the guest house?" Maxwell asks.
"Oh, no!" exclaims Ginger. "We can't let him near Argenitals!"
Best groaner of the night!
 |
|
Sponsor
|
|
