Review: Different Stages' The Tavern

(l-r) Jack Baziuk as Zach and Greg Ginther as the Vagabond in Different Stages' The Tavern (photo by Steve Rogers Photography)

George M. Cohan – the turn-of-the-20th-century entertainer whose bronze statue holds court in the middle of New York City's Times Square – has earned many monikers over the course of his remarkable career. Among them are "Mr. Broadway" (the result of the dozens of hit musicals and revues which he wrote, composed, produced, and performed in) and "The Yankee Doodle Boy" (from the wildly popular patriotic tunes he penned during World War I). But one thing he has never been called is "evergreen," since little of his work held up over time.

His 1920 play, The Tavern, is the rare exception. The show, now in production by Different Stages, brilliantly satirizes the popular melodramas and melodramatic vaudeville blackout sketches of Cohan's era. Sure, these art forms have largely gone the way of the dodo and the saucy McRib sandwich, but good satire – which calls out and holds up for ridicule the familiar tropes of its target – has not. Just watch Saturday Night Live, read The Onion, or access The Menu, now streaming.

The Tavern takes place one stormy night in the 1800s on a dark and lonely road. There sits an old inn run by coldhearted Freeman (Michael Lucas). He lives with his cowardly man-child son, Zach (Jack Baziuk); their high-strung servant, Sally (Frances Bello), who Zach loves; and an utterly clueless hired man, Willum (Tom Chamberlain). Zach stumbles upon a mysterious, devil-may-care vagabond (Greg Ginther) sleeping in the woodshed along with a strange and frenzied woman (Jessica Medina) who claims she is heading to the state capital to tell the governor some rather shocking news. Later in the evening, the tavern is visited by said governor (Ev Lunning), a powerful and privileged man, accompanied by his dutiful wife (Kristin Fern Johnson), his flirtatious daughter (Annie Nicole Merritt), and her aristocratic fiancé (Ty Wiley), who have been held up by bandits during their travels and need a place to spend the night. The hard-nosed sheriff (C. Robert Stevens) and his deputies (Steven Fay and Sebastian Garcia) arrive in the morning to discover the truth behind the vagabond, the woman, and the robbery.

Let's see. Stormy night, lonely road, and one-dimensional characters whose wardrobes (courtesy of Ann Ford) define them? Check. Convoluted storyline filled with heightened drama followed by odd coincidences and quick, convenient conflict resolution? You bet. Overacting, loud speaking, and broad gestures? For sure.

Earnestly performing these melodrama tropes while simultaneously turning them into comedy is no easy task and comes with risk. When satire fails it fails hard. Director Norman Blumensaadt knows this and has found himself a talented ensemble that completely buys into the play's satirical world and has the chops to live in it.

At their center is Ginther as the Vagabond. Like Feste in Twelfth Night, his wit, charm, and lack of loyalty entertain while giving him leeway to speak the truth about the characters around him. Here, a mere wink and a nod allow him to unveil and lay bare the mechanics of the very melodramatic storytelling. The role, like Feste, also requires great physical dexterity and the effortless delivery of complicated, lightning-fast wordplay, which Ginther has mastered. Each of the other players are also given their moments to shine, which they do in hilarious fashion.

Blumensaadt, Charlie Boas (scenic design), and Amy Lewis (lighting design) have created the perfect place for this clever cast to play. The Scottish Rite Theater stage itself, with its pronounced proscenium arch, shouts vaudeville from the get-go while Freeman's Tavern – built with a balance of realism (authentic furnishings and props) and overt theatricality (a freestanding door and window, a hand-painted canvas canopy that engulfs the tavern with a treescape) – allows for melodrama and satire to unfold. Outside the door a storm is brewing, with realistic flashes of lighting and claps of thunder that are comically accentuated with well-timed Foley sound effects (courtesy of J. Robinson Wheeler), particularly when the door opens for someone to enter or exit. Funny stuff well-executed.

It's hard to imagine The Tavern being more audience-pleasing than when in the hands of Different Stages. George M. Cohan would likely agree.