Theatre in Review: The Big Gay Jamboree (Orpheum Theatre)

	Marla Mindelle and company. Photo: Matthew Murphy

Stacey, the heroine of the new attraction at the Orpheum, wakes up one morning hung over and trapped in an Off-Broadway musical from which there is no escape. (I guess we've all been there.) Still, one has every right to feel skeptical about this premise; during the first ten minutes or so of The Big Gay Jamboree, my thought was: Cinco Paul, call your lawyer. But where the now-departed video series Schmigadoon! was alternately sly and slavish in its attitude about the great midcentury musicals, Marla Mindelle, Jonathan Parks-Ramage, and Philip Drennen, the trio behind this spoof, are equipped with hatchets: Their entertainment is cattily hilarious, proudly raunchy, and equipped with about three times as much energy as it needs. Cannily tailored to an audience of twenty-something, musical-theatre-mad gays and their friends, it is, in its way, the twenty-first-century version of Forbidden Broadway, with benefits. Despite certain sizable problems, it may be the guiltiest pleasure on offer right now.

Stacey, a frustrated actress whose sole professional credit is in something called Mr. Zucchini's Riboflavin Factory and who, in her personal life, is kept perpetually on the string by her millionaire boyfriend, is frightened to wake up in the quaint town of (ahem) Bare Back, Idaho, where she learns, to her horror, that it is her wedding day. (The identity of the groom is the darkest of mysteries.) Trying to shake the quartet of singing sisters who insist on dogging her every move, and unnerved by warnings that something sinister is afoot, she is especially freaked out to discover that people sitting out front are watching her. But, as one of her companions assures her, "Why, when you're with ladies as lovely as us, you're bound to have an audience wherever you go!"

The Big Gay Jamboreeis a berserk twist on The Wizard of Oz, with Stacey as Dorothy and, as her traveling companions, Clarence, Bare Back's frustrated token Black; Flora, the town slut, with a taste for bondage scenarios; and Bert, officially a serial killer but really a sweet-natured closet case in short shorts. Stacey helpfully schools him in the "Gay B Cs," presenting a parody of "Do Re Mi" guaranteed to have Rodgers and Hammerstein spinning in their graves. Among other things, she helpfully defines for Bert the concept of "twinks," whom she describes as young gays who "like Britney Spears instead of having a personality!"

The role of Stacey is taken by co-author and co-songwriter Mindelle, best known as the driving force behind the long-running Celine Dion spoof Titanique, here solidifying her reputation as the madcap downtown diva of the moment. Armed with dozens of confused/appalled expressions she effectively plays straight woman to her bizarre gang of supporting characters; when the opportunity presents itself, she has no hesitation about facing out front to deliver a wicked wisecrack. She works the room with assurance, especially when drawing an audience member into the action, appropriating his phone, and making random calls to his friends, a routine that has the house rocking with laughter.

The director Connor Gallagher has supplied Mindelle with a sparkling collection of playmates: As Clarence, Paris Nix displays vocal fireworks, using every gospel music trick extant in a song about his distaste for gospel music. Constantine Rousouli is innocence itself as Bert, eagerly getting schooled by Stacey in the details of PReP, condoms, and three-way encounters. As Flora, Natalie Walker maintains an air of high propriety even when graphically describing her sexual acrobatics. Seen mostly in flashbacks, Alex Moffat is slick as an oil deposit as Keith, Stacey's marriage-averse boyfriend, whose bank account makes it hard for her to quit him. ("I'm rich," he notes. "But it gets lonely running a fracking mine by yourself.")

The book is a not-really coherent framework for a series of routines and gags that spoofs everything from "The Music and The Mirror" in A Chorus Line to Jason Robert Brown's lyrical style while taking passing swipes at Renee Rapp, The Real Housewives franchise, the extortionist prices at Blue Bottle Coffee, the Off-Broadway group Upright Citizens Brigade, Charli XCX, and, yes, Titanique. Jennifer Lopez comes in for full treatment, with plenty of gags about her bad personal choices and an entire number devoted to her survival skills. We also see Stacey audition for Jenny from the Block: The J-Lo Broadway musical, specifically for the role of...the block.

Having written themselves into a corner, the authors try to wrap up the proceedings with a nonsense revelation about AI; the explanations demanded are a tad tedious although we get Stacey's passionate defense of musical theatre as a form defined by real emotion and intelligence. "Then how do you explain Mamma Mia?" someone challenges her. "That was right after 9/11!" she snaps. "No one was thinking straight!"

The Big Gay Jamboree packs so many laughs into its running time that Gallager, who also choreographed, could let things relax, just a little; the show's high-pressure tactics can be draining. This is especially true of the musical numbers, which are all but unintelligible, thanks to a combination of Kris Kukul's orchestrations, Justin Stasiw's sound design, and the cast's poor diction. (Nix is the exception here; his vocals are crystalline.) The ultimate responsibility falls with the director, who should have taken steps to give the songs a better hearing.

The rest of the design contributes to the desired unhinged atmosphere, especially the astonishing number of scenic drops packed into the small theatre courtesy of the design collective dots. (Underlying the show's alarming tone of whimsy, these are aggressively colorful in a manner that one associates with the kitsch specialist Thomas Kinkade.) Aaron Rhyne's projections stand out in the "Gay B Cs" number and, later, when the AI plot element comes into play. Sarah Cubbage's meticulously realized costumes earn laughs of their own. Brian Tovar's lighting amusingly screams "musical comedy" but with a slightly menacing edge.

A loud, brash, funny evening for those in the know, The Big Gay Jamboree is so candid about the audience it caters to that any negative comments somehow seem beside the point. The crowd at the performance I attended roared its approval so loudly that I wondered if they might knock down the theatre. If you fit into the right demographic, you are guaranteed your money's worth; if you don't, one look at the show's poster and signage will be warning enough. --David Barbour