Solid Gold Teeth

TO DO JUSTICE to Philip LaZebnik's The Teeth of Mons Herbert would be to write a review backwards or in pig-Latin. From the first view of the set to the rousing Schlusschor there unfolds an endless train of absurdities that defies rational criticism. This is an extremely witty show in all aspects of production, and though the material comes from all directions, it represents an agile synthesis on LaZebnik's part. As author-composer-director he has produced a consistently funny and entertaining evening that elicits laughter and a sense of amazement.

All that we know about Mons Herbert (who does not appear in the musical) is that he was once given a compliment by Harpo Marx as having "a dazzling mouthful of gold." Aside from any curiosity over the title, he is all but forgotten until the last line. Then the actors ask, who is Mons Herbert, anyway? Four actors act and sing the roles of misnamed, star-crossed lovers and their experience with a flend in search of a potato salad recipe. The playing out of these situations takes us through a beauty contest for cows, the trauma of a lost barometer, a Firesign Theatre-type game show called "Justify Your Existence" and a Kafkaesque IQ test. The show does have a plot, however disguised it is in these absurd digressions.

The show seems set up as a parody of the musical comedy medium, the child of all of the "serious" musicals that we have. LaZebnik inflates the institutions of musicals--torch songs, soft-shoe, romantic ballads--and then colors them with subtle witty lyrics and musical jokes: the entr'acte is a fourfold repeat of one song, and typically Show-type" harmonies are colored with dissonance or humorous rhythms. One of the greatest problems in most musicals is the transition from dramatic scenes to musical numbers. The history of shows displays a constant struggle to find new, unexpected ways to introduce songs, particularly those numbers which seem out of context. In The Teeth of Mons Herbert LaZebnik puts this tension to rest by making each number either an obvious parody or, in some cases, an integral part of the action. The author isn't trying to disguise the obvious difference of drama and song: rather he plays with that separation. Cole Porter is clearly a strong influence on LaZebnik's songwriting. Like "The Heaven Hop" from Anything Goes, most of the numbers are sheerly for entertainment, and fortunately they are entertaining.

AT CERTAIN MOMENTS the script fairly shines: Ogden answers the sighs of his beloved with an impassioned, "O, ditto, ditto!"; later, stammering in each other's arms, he says, "We don't even have to finish our sentences any more. We don't have much to say any more." LaZebnik's dialogue abounds with malapropisms and humorous diction, and the cast carries them off with ease.

The production may not live up to the material, but the experience of so much concentrated wit is worth your time. The stage is lined with potted plants bearing toasted cheese sandwiches. It is rumored that LaZebnik's next project is a musical adaptation of Hamlet. If you miss this one, stick around for that Shakespeherian Rag.