Sometimes mediocre source material — whether it’s a play, a novel or a movie — can work much better in a musical context. In the case of Reefer Madness, launched last weekend by ACT I, ridiculously bad source material inspires a wildly ludicrous but highly entertaining musical satire, brought to the stage with unabashed determination by director Jason Lewis.
Hammy and melodramatic, the original Reefer Madness is a cautionary film from the 1930s about the dangers of marijuana. Small-town folks come up against immoral pot pushers, and the American way of life is threatened to its core. Good people go bad, their tales of woe portrayed in dramatized segments, each prefaced by a lecturing high school principal.
Creators Kevin Murphy and Dan Studney take what’s absurd about the flick’s essence and style and adapt it as a campy romp, filled with eclectic musical material and an over-the-top script that feeds into the better performance instincts of a talented cast, many of whom are making their ACT I debuts. The 15 players deliver all the comical goods, from cleverly clichéd characterizations to a variety of well-crafted tunes and a fair amount of seriously enjoyable choreography supervised by Stephanie Jones-Benton.
The Lecturer (Ben Gregory) opens the show with a sobering speech, then leads the company through the big title song, a somber yet energetic affirmation of the play’s basic message, as weed-crazed, zombie-like ensemble members are transformed into “hooligans and whores.” Then begins the tale of young Jimmy Harper (Cameron Gilliam) and his girlfriend, the adorably innocent Mary Lane (Maggie Wood). They sing of love (“Romeo and Juliet”), but soon enough their world of chaste meetings at the 4-H Club comes crashing down, because Jimmy has fallen prey to the dope-peddling Jack Stone (Trey Palmer), an abusive creep who controls a trio of pot-addicted losers (LaDarra Jackel, Andy Riggs and Nikki Berra).
Poor Jimmy. He becomes a runaway reefer fiend, his romance with Mary Lane is jeopardized, his stoner state of mind makes him do shocking things, and somehow he must find his way back to the story’s predestined patriotic finish and its celebration of right-thinking religious conservatism. Meanwhile, the script works its 1930s cultural references, with a nod to James Cagney, an onstage appearance by FDR and The Lecturer’s assertion that black entertainers like Cab Calloway are pot-smoking agents of evil. (Wow!)
The show’s seven principals are exceedingly well cast, and they thrive under Lewis’ cartoonish staging, which utilizes hilarious cardboard cutout props, and at times recalls the cornball rhythms and film noir spirit of Who Framed Roger Rabbit. (“If I can’t turn him on, he ain’t got switches!”) Gilliam and Wood are simply sublime as the play’s lead couple, displaying triple-threat chops beyond their years. Musical theater regular Jackel also contributes some impressively hardcore belting.
Among the notable musical numbers are “The Stuff,” a torchy ode to reefer; the jazzy swing tune “Down at the Ol’ Five and Dime”; “Jimmy Takes a Hit,” the potheads’ seduction song; “The Orgy,” an ensemble piece featuring simulated sex; the rock ’n’ rolling “Listen to Jesus, Jimmy”; and ACT 1’s culminating rouser, “Mary Jane/Mary Lane.”
A four-piece band led by the gifted Rollie Mains flawlessly works its way through the show’s 20 numbers (including reprises). Leslie Berra’s nifty costumes evoke the period well, with the larger dance numbers featuring some quasi-revealing chorus outfits that ultimately play strictly for laughs.
What Lewis & Co. have here is a big ol’ fattie of a hit that should draw curious hipsters and older hippies — not to mention any others simply seeking an evening of sprightly musical comedy — into the Darkhorse Theater. (There are adult themes, naturally, as well as implied sex and violence, so caveat emptor.)
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