The Manic Hilarity of ‘Noises Off’
The opening night of the SMC Theater Department’s spin on Michael Frayn’s classic farce “Noises Off” was met with an uproar of laughter and a standing ovation. Under the direction of Terrin Adair, the production ran from March 27 through April 5.
The play charts the descent of a dysfunctional theater troupe scurrying to set sail on their performance of the in-universe ribald comedy “Nothing On.” Through attempted backstage homicide, soap opera-worthy romantic entanglements and a boggling amount of sardines, the wacky dramatis personae must survive theatrical disaster and each other.
Upon entering the auditorium, idle chatter carried through the waiting crowd as people plodded along to take their seats. The pervasive, merry mood of a Friday evening was fit for the promised screwball romp ahead.
There stood on the stage the interior of a house. The structure was illuminated in a contrast of orange and blue light, ramshackle and exposed as if still under construction, with staircases leading to a lineup of doors.
This mysterious ambiance was turned on its head within the first thirty seconds of the show’s start with a choreographed dance number set to ‘80s pop rock — the stage bathed in pink, blue, and purple lighting. When they were done cutting the rug, the dancers proceeded to rotate the faux house, revealing it to be a furnished set.
The first proper scene begins: Hannah Hayes plays Dotty Otley. Otley plays Mrs. Clackett. It’s an act of acting inception. Hayes, as Otley, as Clackett recites her lines during Nothing On’s prepremier tech rehearsal.
From here, Murphy’s Law takes the wheel.
The slapstick hijinks on stage accelerated with ferocious velocity as cast members bungled to-and-fro with the practiced coordination of a pit-crew speed-running catastrophe. Audience members were left reeling for breath under the onslaught of jokes.
The play-within-a-play conceit of “Noises Off” received an enthusiastic response from a handful of SMC students in attendance. “I work in theater. It’s real. That happens. It’s a lot of just running around tripping over yourselves all the time,” Pearl An said. “There’s a lot of good physical comedy. That’s something that’s very underutilized, I think, in modern theater.”
The propulsive force of the cast, the engine of the show's escalating chaos, was lauded as well. “Everyone was so vibrant and full of life. The chemistry between everyone was insane. It was like off the charts… It was like constant jokes. Like every five seconds, new joke, new joke, new punchline, like something else to laugh about.” SMC student Daniel Brady said.
Jane Amador and Tao Pressman, makeup still on, fresh from their performances as Brooke Ashton and Frederick Fallowes, shared the behind-the-scenes of what goes into preparing for such physically expressive roles.
“… the hardest thing about doing comedy is you really don't know what works until you get it in front of an audience a lot of times… if you get it in front of the audience, and they don’t laugh… that’s what it comes down to. I’m like, okay, what’s gonna land? What should I be doing more of? What can I pull back on?” said Amador, “...seeing how everyone developed over the course of the months we’ve been rehearsing, and then, like, even on stage today, seeing how everyone is playing their character… That’s my favorite part. Like, every single one of them, even our mechanicals who are turning the set and dancing… It’s just genius and cohesive.”
On the importance of levity as an avenue of escapism, Amador said, “I think it’s important right now to be doing a comedy. I just feel like it's nice to go to the theater and watch something that you don't necessarily have to palate and digest.”
“It’s a way of connecting with people and you gauge how the audience is feeling and kind of, I guess, act accordingly to get them to have fun… it’s, like, tapping into a base level of joy… which is just rewarding to be a part of,” said Pressman.
Evidently, the feeling was mutual among theater-goers, “You should come see it. If you don’t, you’re goofy. Slide through,” said SMC film student Kermit Moss Jr.