Theatre in Review: Ionescopade (York Theatre)Can the Theatre of the Absurd be set to music? That's the proposition Ionescopade sets out to test by paying tribute to the works of Eugène Ionesco, who helped get the absurdist ball rolling with such works as The Bald Soprano and Rhinoceros. I can practically hear the snickering; what's next, you wonder: a kick-up-your-heels tuner based on Waiting for Godot? But let's remember that no less solemn a personage as Samuel Beckett adored the music hall, and Harold Pinter got his start writing sketches for West End revues. So, as odd as it may seem, there is considerable precedent for Ionescopade, which takes the works of Ionesco -- with their skeptical, sideways view of humanity and deep-seated assurance that life has no meaning whatsoever -- and tries, with mixed success, to stylize them to the demands of a conventional evening of songs and sketches. The result is sleek, stylish, and spotty fun. Robert Allan Ackerman, who conceived Ionescopade - which was originally staged in 1974 -- and Mildred Kayden, who wrote the music and lyrics, have drawn freely from Ionesco's plays and journals. In general, the less dependent they are on their source materials, the better. "Surprising People," a duet for clowns, is constructed out of bits of dialogue from several plays, and it strikes a note of cheerful despair and blissful non-communication. (Most of the songs have a vaudevillian quality that is entirely appropriate to the occasion.) "Madeleine," a dark ballad taken from Ionesco's journals, has an attractively morose, Jacques Brel quality. Best of all is a sequence called "Bobby Watson and Family." Taking inspiration from a set of characters mentioned, but never seen, in The Bald Soprano, the entire company appears as members of a tribe of upper-class English twits -- all named Bobby and all sporting the same owlish eyeglasses and comically awful, jet-black wigs -- ready to leap into action and perform their repertory of party pieces, none of which make a lick of sense. Here, Kayden spins Ionesco's non sequiturs and oddball assertions into a blissfully comic fantasia. If the effect of this sequence is a little cozy -- closer to the comedy numbers of, say, Flanders and Swann than to the darkness of Exit the King -- it's good fun nevertheless. Less successful are the straightforward samplings of Ionesco's work. "The Peace Conference," a one-act play about squabbling generals -- they repeat the same phrases at each other, ad nauseam -- is painfully obvious, a powerful reminder that yesterday's provocation is today's cliché. And missing altogether from the enterprise is Ionesco's sense of the macabre, the feeling that death lurks underneath all this frivolity. Even in its most amusing moments, Ionescopade is never entirely free of the twee; the most notable example of this is the presence of Samuel Cohen as a winsome pantomime figure who keeps tabs on the action. (In his witty pre-show speech, James Morgan, the company's artistic director, tries to make a link between absurdist humor and the current insane political season, but the satire in these sketches is too well-worn to have any real bite.) Still, Bill Castellino directs with such a sure hand and a solid sense of style that I'd love to see him tackle other vintage revues -- perhaps, say, New Faces of 1952 - and he has assembled a cast that is both adept and attuned to his comic wavelength. I particularly enjoyed Nancy Anderson as a tormented apache dancer and an eerily composed young lady singing an unsettling little ditty about her ginger wildcat; Leo Ash Evens as a cabaret singer who switches sexes in mid-ballad; Susan J. Jacks as a faintly demented ballerina; and Tina Stafford as a spangled, high-heeled hussy who turns up the temperature on stage with a torch song about -- you guessed it -- fire. As artistic director, James Morgan has a secret weapon in his house scenic designer -- a chap named James Morgan. (He is the only designer in New York to run a theatre company.) Here he has come up with a delightful environment shaped by a cracked proscenium, topped by an art deco rendering of the show's title, and surrounded by images of Ionesco looking down, like God, on his bemusing creations. Mary Jo Dondlinger's lighting includes a full complement of chases, ballyhoos, and strobe effects, pepping up the numbers to no end. Nicole Wee's cleverly color-coordinated costumes include tutus, dress grays, a trio of outfits for dancing poultry, and a full line of black-and-white ensembles for the Bobby Watsons. Blessedly, the singers aren't miked, but the sound designer, Alex Neumann has his work cut out for him anyway, providing a battery of effects ranging from the sounds of battle to cheering crowds. If Ionescopade is a bit of a curio, it's filled with attractive people and has been staged in high style. It's part of York's season-long tribute to Off Broadway musicals, and I'm grateful for the chance to have seen it. Mildred Kayden was in the audience at the performance I attended. She looked mighty happy. --David Barbour 
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