'Edwin Drood' audience gets to solve Dickens' whodunit
By Sally Carpenter sallyc@theacorn.com

Charles Dickens began writing "The Mystery of Edwin Drood," but died before he finished the book, leaving no notes about how he intended it to end. Playwright Rupert Holmes wasn't stopped by a little thing like a missing ending. He created a musical wherein the audience is asked to vote on the conclusion.

Knowing this, with great expectations I attended the Fred Helsel-directed production of "Drood" playing at the Simi Valley Cultural Arts Center. I went in expecting Agatha Christie, but got Benny Hill instead.

Holmes uses the playwithina-play frame of a British music hall troupe presenting "Drood." The Chairman (Fred Helsel) sits on stage and guides the audience through the story almost to distraction; introduces the "actors" playing the roles, who step out of character to take bows, and even fills in for a "missing actor." Lest the production become too gloomy, both acts present a "happy ending" and a lively songand-dance number.

If this sounds silly, it is. The "mystery" seems secondary to the bad jokes, physical comedy and overacting. One character, Bazzard (Seth Kamenow), even complains about his desire to play bigger roles. A few scenes, such as one at the cemetery, conjure an eerie atmosphere, which is quickly dissipated by the high jinks.

The thin story line centers on choirmaster John Jasper (Ryan Neely), a man with two secrets: He's in love with his nephew's fiancee and he's an opium addict served by Princess Puffer (Elizabeth Stockton and Anna Graves trade off on the part).

Nephew Edwin Drood is played by the music hall's troupe "male impersonator" (Stockton and Graves again), not convincingly since the actress doesn't look or sound like a grown man.

The fiancee, Rosa Bud (Kristina Reyes), is a sweet innocent who spurns Jasper's affections.

The Rev. Chrisparkle (John Sarkela), the genial vicar, is entrusted with two wards from Ceylon, hot-tempered Neville Landless (Jodi Wurts) and his twin sister, Helene (Amanda Lastort), both struggling to fit into proper British society.

Neville and Edwin argue at Christmas Eve dinner, fueled in part by Jasper's "especially potent" wine from the opium den. Edwin then vanishes on his way home. Was he murdered? Did he arrange his own disappearance? Who is the disguised "detective" investigating the event? We don't know because this is the end of the novel- and Act I.

Most of Act II concerns the audience voting, followed by the actors singing a song appropriate to that particular ending. This is where the show bogs down. The primary suspects are too obvious. The voting is disorganized, and patrons can't tell when to vote on their selection. Since the vote is by show of hands, anyone counting the raised arms knows the "winner," so the ending is no surprise and just drags on. And by voting three times on different issues, the gimmick wears thin.

Worse yet, important exposition is withheld until after the voting, and the Chairman makes remarks that seem intended to sway the voting. The election seems a little "rigged."

Despite the material, the actors handle their roles well. Neely makes a nasty villain (the audience is encouraged to boo), and Reyes' golden voice shines on "Moonfall." Sarkela sparkles in his role and Wurts plays his part with an expressively funny face.

For comic relief, we have Nick Ferguson and Corey Slack, a couple of ne'er-do-well street bums who revel in broad humor. Lastort sings well, but her pseudo-ethnic accent makes the words almost unintelligible.

Before the show the characters chat with the audience to win votes. Some of the actors mingle well; others just wander around. This schtick ran on a bit too long.

Songs include "A British Subject/Ceylon," about the woes of colonialism; Bazzard's lament, "Never the Luck;" and Princess Puffer's "Garden Path to Hell," which chronicles her decline. Neely and Helsel keep their tongues limber with the rapid-fire patter song "Both Sides of the Coin." Most of the music is serviceable but hardly memorable.

Gary Poirot directs the onstage orchestra, complete with strings, which provides lively accompaniment.

Hardcore mystery buffs may feel cheated, but patrons who buy into the fun will enjoy a pleasant evening.

Running time is three hours. The show continues through Oct. 14 at 3050 Los Angeles Ave. For tickets, call (805) 583-7900.