Theatre in Review: Disaster! (St. Luke's Theater)It is 1979, and the Barracuda Floating Casino is parked in the Hudson River. Tony, the shady, celebrity-mad owner, has spared no expense for the opening night party -- even if he has skimped on every possible safety feature. Nevertheless, he demands that that the chef fire up his stoves. After all, Tony says, "Can you see Telly Savalas and Karen Valentine eating from a cold buffet?" Welcome to the world of Disaster! Seth Rudetsky and Jack Plotnick, having noticed that most of the Irwin Allen films of the '70s came equipped with unforgettably soupy pop ballads ("The Morning After," "We May Never Love Like this Again"), have served up a spoofy smorgasbord of their own, combining tasty bits of The Poseidon Adventure, The Towering Inferno, Earthquake, and The Swarm with a playlist of the 1970s' most empty-headed pop hits. In doing so, they also take a few potshots at a more recent pop culture phenomenon: the jukebox musical. Actually, they prove better at the jukebox musical game than most of its so-called serious practitioners. You might not think it possible to weave an opening sequence, introducing a show's characters and situations, around Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff," but you would be wrong. Rudetsky and Plotnick have gleefully populated their ship of fools with a full complement of disaster-movie stereotypes. They include Marianne, a crusading journalist from Cosmopolitan; Levora, a disco diva in severe financial straits; Jackie, a lounge entertainer who isn't about to let a tidal wave interfere with her husband-hunting activities; and Ted, a "renowned disaster expert," who keeps insisting that the casino is a deathtrap. And there's Sister, an exceptionally glum bride of Christ -- menstruation, she notes, is "one of God's many punishments toward women" -- who suffers from an acute case of gambling addiction. Staring at a slot machine that plays the Hawaii Five-0 theme and remembering her promises to Christ, she sings "Torn Between Two Lovers." One part Mad Magazine and two parts The Carol Burnett Show, Disaster! mines the lower depths of '70s pop culture for shameless hilarity. With lines like "You know, one night Ruth Gordon wandered into Plato's Retreat ..." it certainly helps to be over 40, but, really, there's something here for everyone. Much of this has to do with Plotnick's fast-paced, inventive direction and a cast that knows exactly how to get away with murder. Aside from Rudetsky, as Ted, who quietly, reasonably keeps announcing that everyone is going to die, these include Haven Burton as Marianne, offering a medley of "I Am Woman" and "That's the Way I Always Heard It Should Be," as she contemplates her wreck of a personal life; John Treacy Egan, running around with sharks attached to his arms (don't ask) as Tony; Michele Ragusa as Jackie, facing each new horror armed with a can-do attitude and a sequined dress; and Jonah Verdon, as both of Jackie's twin children, a boy and a girl; given the sheer number of fast changes, he is surely the hardest working kid in show business. Even in this fast company, two Broadway veterans stand out for their scene-stealing ways. Mary Testa is cast in the Shelley Winters slot as Shirley, a dying matron from the outer boroughs, whose symptoms -- including frantic winking, pelvic thrusts, and Tourettes-like outbursts -- are wildly misconstrued by the other characters. Jennifer Simard repeatedly brings down the house as Sister, whose clinically depressed piety crumbles at the sight of a one-armed bandit; giving way to sin, she woos the machine with a kicky rendition of "Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm Yours." One by one, the minor characters are killed off, usually as the result of amusingly tacky stabs at special effects, while the main characters air their tsuris to the strains of Gilbert O'Sullivan, Barry Manilow, and "A Fifth of Beethoven." The production is filled with clever staged-on-a shoestring touches, such as when Tony is menaced by piranhas; when the ship is turned upside down by a tsunami in the Hudson; and when, apropos of nothing, a swarm of bees shows up to make everyone's lives even more miserable. There's an especially nifty touch when Ted, who is afraid of heights, has to cross a steel beam to rescue Jackie and the kids, all set, of course, to "Nadia's Theme." Given the relentlessness of its gags and its two-hours-plus running time, Disaster! risks outstaying its welcome, however. The second half often feels repetitious, especially since Rudetsky and Plotnick seem hell-bent on including every cheeseball hit of the decade. When Jackie's daughter appears, carrying a puppet of her ailing sibling, you can put money on it that she will burst into "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother." When a minor character tosses various body parts that belong to his wife, singing, "Three Times a Lady," it seems more desperate than funny. In the last quarter of its running time, you may find yourself asking, how much effort needs to be spent parodying a film genre that practically spoofs itself? Still, there are a lot worse things than a show that is merely funny. Denis Jones' choreography makes good use of hustle-inspired dance moves; his best sequence features Testa expending the last of her energies on tapping out, in Morse code, crucial information to a pair of trapped passengers. Josh Iacovelli's amusing set looks like a low-budget take on a '70s-era TV special and is loaded with sight gags to boot; he also served as lighting designer. Brian Hemesath's costumes are a riot of polyester fabrics and colors not found in nature. The sound design, by A&L Sound Partners, earns laughs of its own with plenty of doom-laden effects and an elevator that plays Chuck Mangione at the most inappropriate times; beware the sound reinforcement, however, which is loud to the point of being screechy. Still, Disaster! looks like it may be the season's guiltiest pleasure, the kind of show best enjoyed by going in a group and having a couple of drinks first. My only question is, When is Maureen McGovern coming to see it? --David Barbour 
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