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Peer Reviews Death by Chocolate Written by Paul Freed Reviewed by Cristina Martin Entire contents copyright © 2009, Cristina Martin. All rights reserved.
Death by Chocolate, an entertaining murder mystery wrapped around a zesty filling of food for thought, is a real treat. Serving up a script chock full of delectable one-liners, the handiwork of a discerning director, and performances by talented and well cast actors, Hayswood Community Theatre has hit upon a recipe for success.
The Meadowbrook Health Resort, a spa and health club whose motto happens to be "Get Fit or Die Trying," is gearing up for its grand reopening. Its previous owner, Henry Meadowbrook, is alleged to have killed himself, and the establishment is now under new management. The wealthy new owner is Lady Riverdale (Cathy Butler-Weathersby), who has rather incongruously made her fortune in chocolates, and John Stone (Charles Swarens) has taken over as manager. Apart from the matter of removing the blood stains Mr. Meadowbrook has left behind, along with the concern of impressing journalist Margaret Daniels (Debbie Smith), who has recently arrived to do a story on the resort for the sort of glossy magazine read by those who might frequent such a place, all seems to be going relatively smoothly. Smoothly, that is, until the cook, Edith Chiles (Jen Anderson), dies after eating one of the chocolates in a box on Mr. Stone's desk. Fitness trainer Ralph Deadwood (Eric Anderson) soon meets the same fate. Played by Jen Anderson as a much cuter and more personable version of Julia Child, we hate to see Edith Chiles go, though the same can't be said for Ralph Deadwood. Eric Anderson (Jen's son) plays the character ably as a muscle-bound, shallow lummox of a man, a Neanderthal, in Lady Riverdale's words. He seems at times to be anticipating the lines of his fellow actors so that he can deliver his own, but his hilarious job of dying on stage can't be beat. And so, the remaining characters have a mystery on their hands that must be kept quiet and solved pronto if it isn't to ruin the resort's future. The usual suspects are duly rounded up. They include Stone's secretary, Dyslexia (Linda Friedrich); Mr. Meadowbrook's longtime assistant, Alfred Mellox (Scott Smith); Mr. Meadowbrook's daughter, Sweet Pea (Jackie Hayden); aerobics instructor Dick Simmering, played by Colin McClanahan in an excellent sendup of Richard Simmons; and nurse Ann (Lizzy Anderson), who is so rattled by the proceedings that she doesn't have to be asked twice to avail herself of the infirmary's supply of sedatives to calm her nerves. It's hard to believe that Lizzy Anderson (daughter of Jen and sister of Eric) is in seventh grade, so confidently does she play the nurse, both in nervous and in mellow mode. Friedrich plays Dyslexia in a funny low-key, sardonic manner complete with eye-rolls and facial expressions that speak volumes, and Smith's Mellox strikes a note that makes us wonder what lurks below the surface. Cathy Butler-Weathersby's Lady Riverdale is sophisticated and well-spoken, except when she's not... She displays convincing acting ability whatever the case. We're always aware of the presence of the edgy, inquisitive reporter played very well by Debbie Smith, as she's a major preoccupation of Lady Riverdale's. Charles Swarens's performance as John Stone, however, takes the cake (be it chocolate or otherwise). An accomplished actor, his timing is outstanding, and his alternating fussy befuddlement and witty commentary keep us wondering what he will say or do next, certain that we will be amused by whatever it is. In a clever self-referential twist, one of the guests present at the resort happens to be Ed Parlor (Rick Pauley), a writer of murder mystery plays who has come in the hopes of being inspired by the surroundings. He is contemplating writing a play entitled — guess what? — Death by Chocolate, and thinks a posh health resort out in the country owned by a rich chocolatier would make the perfect setting. Parlor and Stone team up to investigate the murders at hand, and as they do so, we witness the characters in the play commenting upon the action as it unfolds. Parlor outlines the format of a good murder mystery play as he sees it — one or two deaths, both in the first act; a deductive process undertaken by the sleuth(s) which leads to the identification of a culprit who turns out to be innocent; and finally, the demasking of the true murderer, to whom the audience has been introduced previously but who has perhaps escaped their suspicion. Our play does indeed follow this format. Stone is so aware of how his fate is determined by the guidelines set forth, in fact, that when facing a dangerous situation in the second act, he's quite certain he won't be killed because according to his playwright companion, all murders are supposed to occur in the first act. Clearly, this play pokes fun at the vanity of the fitness-obsessed. Mr. Stone admits unabashedly that the whole enterprise is capitalizing on the latest trend, remarking that yesterday it was hula hoops and today it's fitness; in a number of years, he quips, people's garages will be filled with unused fitness equipment and forgotten aerobics instructors(!). But the play also contains quite a number of — for lack of a better term — fat jokes. They're all in good fun, yes, and perhaps underlain with irony, but they're also unsettling. It has been said that in this culture that worships thinness, the overweight or unfit are among the last members of society whom it is permitted to disparage openly. It's unconscionable that those who know better than to make derogatory comments about a person's skin color or sexual orientation or disability persist in thinking that extra weight is indicative of gluttony, laziness, and general weakness of character; moreover, they see it as entirely permissible to ridicule the overweight and to offer them all manner of unsolicited commentary. Whether Paul Freed is to be taken at face value or tongue-in-cheek, some of the jokes on stage are most significant in light of our reactions to them. What does it say about us if we laugh at a woman eating compulsively or at the physical comedy of a man slighter than the societal ideal being crushed by a woman heavier than the societal ideal? Should we be more enlightened than to find this funny, or is that being too heavy handed (no pun intended)? Maybe the joke is on the lack of enlightenment of other characters' reactions. Even so, those of us who may lack the comfort level in our less-than-perfect bodies to play physical roles that hit a little too close to home are made uneasy. Toward the end of the play, Sweet Pea Meadowbrook, whose words are heretofore unintelligible because her mouth is filled with food, finally has her say. Anyone who has ever tried unsuccessfully to conform to impossible standards of physical beauty or suffered because they didn't conform will cheer her. Hats off to Jackie Hayden, who plays the character with enviable courage and extraordinary self-possession. Director John Hardaway's staging always seems to be just right, with the movement and positioning of the actors being well motivated in each scene. I remarked at one point what a pleasing tableau the costumes and the set formed together, too, contributing to a harmonious, fluid whole. More profound implications aside, this production of Death by Chocolate does delight. For an enjoyable theatre experience that will leave you hungry for more of this caliber, go ahead — indulge.
Death by Chocolate Hayswood Theatre
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