I think we're about five for five, review-wise, with this, our latest - he saw a preview, and yes, the pacing problems were worked out by opening night.
'The Brain From Planet X' spoofs '50s sci-fi in Anaheim Hills
The musical's O.C. premiere uses short, kicky scenes and songs to parody the genre.
By ERIC MARCHESE
SPECIAL TO THE REGISTER
Comments | Recommend
Genre spoofs are tricky animals, forcing writers onto a tightrope with diehards on one side and those unfamiliar with the turf on the other.
It's therefore good to report that the 2006 musical "The Brain from Planet X" scores high marks from nearly every perspective. The show's creators, David Wechter and Bruce Kimmel, knew exactly what kind of wacky note they wanted to strike, then consistently made every facet of the show – its characters, dialogue, melodies, song lyrics, visuals and overall tone – strike that note.
In case you hadn't guessed, "Planet X" is a sci-fi spoof – or, more accurately, a parody of such '50s classics as "Invaders from Mars" and the spectacularly awful, champion golden turkey "Plan Nine from Outer Space."
Not only is the Chance Theater's kicky staging the show's Orange County premiere; the production is also part of this year's Festival of New American Musicals, one of only two full-fledged stagings in Orange County (the other is at South Coast Repertory). The fact that the Chance was able to snag Kimmel as director is simply icing on the cake.
Kimmel's opening weekend staging showed rough spots in pacing that presumably will be ironed out early in the run. He wrote the majority of the music and lyrics and co-wrote the libretto with Wechter, who also co-wrote two of the songs. Wisely, the duo keep both songs and scenes brief and punchy.
"Planet X" accurately spoofs an array of '50s sci-fi flicks. More critically, it also parodies the social milieu of the era itself. The resulting show is campy, cornball fun, with loads of pop culture references sprinkled into a story of a stereotypical 1950s nuclear family and their neighbors' encounter with outer space aliens.
The play's nuclear family are the Bunsens, headed by Fred (Bob Simpson), who works at the local defense plant and, at home, cheerfully patronizes his bubbly wife Joyce (Allison Appleby) and teen daughter Donna (Shannon Cudd).
Of course, it's no coincidence that they live in the San Fernando Valley and that the year is 1958, the same place and time as "Plan Nine from Outer Space." As in that film, a small crew from a distant galaxy are determined to conquer Earth, starting with the Valley.
The emotionless crew consists of Yoni (Emily Clark), who sports a tall, blue Marge Simpson 'do, and Zubrick (Daniel Berlin), a pudgy, finicky wimp who sneers that earthlings are nothing but "stupid." Their blueprint for conquest? "Plan Ten."
Their leader, The Brain (Mark Rothman), has a head that's literally a huge cerebrum – but with his huge, rounded spectacles, gaping stare, Yiddish speech rhythms and constant kvetching, he's more of an intergalactic Catskills standup comic.
In some scenes, Kimmel and Wechter score the trifecta, spoofing sci-films, the 1950s and the 2000s. To wit: A high-ranking military official repeatedly mispronounces the word nuclear as "nuke-you-ler." Fred rhapsodizes that the world 50 years hence, in 2008, will be free of crime, war, famine and disease and that "the air will be clean and gasoline will be free!" One character even quips, "Next you'll be telling me that women and Negroes are running for president!"
"The Brain from Planet X" is also a glorious salute to the great American musical, with the same satiric air and sexy style as "The Producers" and the same nostalgic feel as "Little Shop of Horrors," another great musical based on a schlocky '50s sci-fi flick. The show taps a broad palette of musical styles, including soft rock; 1950s jazz; patter songs; striptease music; vaudeville revue and even a socko, Broadway-style tap dance number replete with oompa-loompa-like aliens.
As in many '50s sci-fi films, human emotion, considered crude, primitive instinct by the aliens, wins out, and the big Finale Ultimo is joyous and cornily patriotic.
Simpson and Appleby tap an SNL vein, with Fred a Bill Murray sort and Joyce akin to a Laraine Newman persona. Clark's slinky, steamingly sexy vamp and Rothman's Yiddish-theater delivery are the most consistently funny, but every cast member gets his or her share of laughs. Michael Irish is hyper-serious – and just plain hyper – as the kind of narrator frequently tapped by Ed Wood ostensibly to legitimize a bizarre tale ("what you're about to see is shockingly realistic!"), but actually only helping mock it.
The offstage combo of Bill Strongin (piano), Lonn Hayes (percussion) and Ross Craton (reeds) are all the show's score needs to score. Though Masako Tobaru's set design and her and Kimmel's deliberately cheeseball special effects are just right, the sound scheme (Dave Mickey and Mitchell Kohen), lighting (KC Wilkerson) and choreography (Adam Cates) cannot be overlooked.