Murder as a farcical act

Older readers will almost certainly have seen a couple of other productions on a Maltese stage of Joseph Kesselring’s Arsenic and Old Lace (MADC at the Manoel), a farcical black comedy that has become a classic.

Technically, Edward Mercieca is very good, making clever use of a frenzied gallop as he rushes to prevent some disaster from happening- Paul Xuereb

It relies almost entirely on the preposterous, and if a contemporary playgoer is in the right mood, it remains nearly, if not quite, as funny as it was to the early audiences of the 1940s.

The comedy is set in Brooklyn in early World War II, in an old rambling house that belongs to the elderly Brewster sisters, Martha and Abbey.

These very sweet women are popular with all the neighbourhood, including members of the local police force, but no one knows of their propensity to show their pity for lonely people by poisoning them and then burying them in the house’s large cellar.

More obviously abnormal is their nephew Teddy who thinks he is the former US President Theodore Roosevelt and tends to blow a bugle at any time of day and night and to charge imaginary enemies up the stairs.

His aunts have convinced him that the cellar is Panama and that it is his duty to bury the people they have killed on the pretence that they died of yellow fever while working on the Panama Canal.

Another nephew, Mortimer, is quite normal. He is a drama critic, and the script has quite a few jokes, never wicked I should add, about the theatre and drama criticism.

His serene life is shattered when he discovers his aunts’ murderous activity, and even more when his other brother, Jonathan, turns up after having escaped from an institution for insane criminals, dragging behind him the corpse of a man he has just murdered.

Mortimer tries to keep his cool but finds himself in a series of difficult situations in which at one time Jonathan has the upper hand. Needless to say, things end well: Jonathan is cornered and handed over to the police, and a suitable ending is found for Teddy and the old women, except that the final curtain leaves the old women’s future more than uncertain.

A surprise ending is also found for Mortimer whose discovery that though a Brewster by name he is no Brewster by blood, opens the door to his marrying the winsome Elaine whom he loves.

Josette Ciappara reminds us what the piece owes to the old Hollywood cinema by introducing a trio of singers at the beginning of each of the two acts.

For me this did not work, whereas the musical interjections composed and played by Alex Vella Gregory were very amusing, reminding me of the music for the old silent movies.

The elaborate set by Joe Galea was visually very fine, but unfortunately the flat incorporating the front door is very flimsy and trembles terribly most times the door is opened or shut.

The main characters are played by performers greatly experienced in playing comedy and farce – Edward Mercieca as Mortimer, Polly March as Abby, Marylu Coppini as Martha – but I found that the first act, which runs for close on 90 minutes, did not quite ignite the audience’s laughter, whereas the second act, which is packed with action, was definitely more amusing.

I felt the first act failed to convey a constantly growing frenzy among the cast, and some of the secondary characters did not make sufficient impact. Surprisingly, even Colin Fitz’s Teddy, a character often onstage in this act, never reaches the preposterous heights he should reach. His very charges up the stairs are not funny but almost tiresome.

The second act is dominated by Mortimer, and Mercieca makes sure this dominance is very clear. Technically he is very good, making clever use of a frenzied gallop as he rushes to prevent some disaster from happening, and expressing supreme confidence moments before disaster strikes him.

One of the most comical scenes shows him gagged and tied down by the nefarious Jonathan and having to listen for hours to the endless description by a stage-struck policeman (Colin Willis) of the disastrous theatre script the cop wishes to write.

Mercieca’s eyes bulge frenziedly, moans escape from his gagged mouth, and he twists frenziedly in his chair, while the bore goes on and on.

The old women are well contrasted. Coppini’s Martha is sweet and cute even when planning yet another poisoning, whereas March’s Abby is tougher and has an inner core that is formidable. Of course, when they entertain people they need, like the local policemen or Mr Harper, a minister of religion whose daughter is Elaine, Mortimer’s love, all we see is the surface sweetness alone.

Joe Depasquale’s Jonathan is clearly deranged and dangerous, but I must admit he did not remind me of Boris Karloff in the least. He teams up well with Renato Dimech’s Dr Einstein, not a deep-dyed villain like his partner and much more of a comic, thus deserving his getting away scot-free from the police.

Elaine is not a great part, but Kate De Cesare brings glamour as well as determination to it, and certainly makes her mark.