The third genital seems to have a 'Bluebeard'

When a medium-sized crowd filled tiny Nick Chapel last Thursday, it is unlikely that many of them knew what was in store. Perhaps the actors walking around in various stages of undress, with clothes that rarely matched the gender of the wearer, offered some clue, but nothing can truly prepare you for your first viewing of Ridiculous Theatre. When the lights finally dimm-ed, two creatures appeared on the stage, and the melodrama began. The creatures' odd display soon had the audience laughing heartily, with the actors laughing along just as heartily from their balcony above the stage—all except the one in the casket.

DAVID GEST/YH Go ahead...make my play.

The easiest thing to say about this production of Bluebeard, one of several plays written by Charles Ludlam for the Ridiculous Theatre Company, is that it is too bad it is only showing for three days in a such small theater. The play is not to be missed. As the actors gleefully present the story of Baron Khanazar von Bluebeard and his various sexual exploits, all secondary to his attempt to create a third genital, the audience members can only enjoy the spectacle and wish they were having as much fun as those who are a part of it. Bluebeard is extreme melodrama, and the actors hold nothing back in expressing their feelings of fear, love, and lust. The fact that only one member of the cast is actually male does little to detract from the bonds—sexual and otherwise—that build between the characters.

This is not to say that the characters are to be taken seriously. Certainly, some kind of a plot takes place as the action advances, but the primary purpose of the performance is to entertain. Both the actors and the special effects, which range from a variety of oddly appropriate background songs to dramatic lighting to a projection of the Goddess Hecate (played by herself), are concentrated on achieving this end. The result is often startling, occasionally grotesque, and always funny.

Bluebeard is a parody of Island of Lost Souls, a 1933 film based on H.G. Wells' novel, The Island of Dr. Moreau. Most of the differences between the two stories arise from the fact that, while Dr. Moreau was merely a mad scientist, Baron Khanazar von Bluebeard is a mad scientist and a pervert. The wily and sexy baron is skillfully and dramatically portrayed by Heather McGhee, MC '01, whose phony blue body parts are not limited to her beard and eyebrows. The Baron spends much of the play plotting to seduce "his" niece, Jennifer Wilson, DC '01, mainly so that he can run his horrifying experiments on her, although he takes some time off from his quest to marry his niece's malaprop-laden caretaker (Desiree Burch, TD '01). He is opposed by his niece's fiancée (Emily Lodish, TD '03), who seems to be rather unlucky in love, despite being the perfect "man," and by Brennan Gerard, TD '01, one of the Baron's experiments gone awry. The Baron's physically altered, usually faithful servants are played by Gina Welch, DC '01, and Michael Walker, DC '01. Walker, the one actual male in the cast, holds up his role well, even in stockings. Suset Laboy-Perez, SY '02, who has a brief but important part in the play, plays both the good and the bad angels who tempt the Baron.

Theater

Bluebeard By Charles Ludlam Directed by Brennan Gerard Fri., Nov. 10 and Sat., Nov. 11 at 9 p.m. and 12 a.m. Nick Chapel

It is impossible to judge Bluebeard the way one might judge a typical performance. Bluebeard simply does not present itself as something that can be judged. Certainly, the sight of a woman dressed as a man, staggering from one wall to the other and back in a strobe light for what feels like several minutes, would not fit well into most plays, yet it suits this one perfectly. Every element, from the banner proclaiming the gratuitous sex scene that takes place behind it to the image of Hecate singing a pop song, works perfectly. It all works because the actors remain serious in spite of the sounds coming from off-stage actors that make it clear that this is far from reality. This is the beauty of melodrama, and anyone willing to dance on method acting's grave, at least for a couple of hours, should make it to Bluebeard's house this weekend. (Disclaimer: new and improved genitals are not satisfaction-guaranteed.)

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