Stage

Bard Rock Cafe

Appleseed shakes it up with the comedy I Hate Hamlet

Playwright Paul Rudnick knows a thing or two about the clash of art and commerce. He's written for television and the movies (Addams Family Values, In & Out) and he's written for the stage (Jeffrey), where his heart is. In I Hate Hamlet, a stage hit from a decade ago that's now being presented by Appleseed Productions at the Atonement Lutheran Church, Rudnick gets in all his licks, partially by giving the nominal villain many of the best lines. Like this one: "Shakespeare? Isn't that like algebra on stage?"

The character who hates Hamlet is actor Andrew Rally (Jon Wilson), whose successful TV series has just been canceled. Andrew agrees to appear with Joseph Papp's free Shakespeare in Central Park, but when he doesn't feel up to the challenge, the ghost of John Barrymore (Joe Pierce) appears in his apartment to show him the way. After all, the Great Profile himself had once lived on the same premises. In what becomes a debate over Andrew's artistic soul, his agent Gary Peter Lefkowitz (Tom Ciancaglini) shows up to argue in favor of making some sweet lucre. Among his better pieces of advice is that television isn't supposed to make you feel bad; that's what the theater is for.

Although John Barrymore (1882-1942) is now best remembered for some awful movies and for being Drew Barrymore's grandfather, Rudnick is astute for raising his ghost as a mentor, something like Humphrey Bogart in trench coat for Woody Allen's Play It Again, Sam. The historical Barrymore was thought the top Hamlet of his day, but he rose out of commercial theater and did a lot of garbage on his way. Laurence Olivier, whose roots were also popular theater, readily cited him as a role model. Historical reality aside, the premise leads Rudnick into some excellent gags, like Barrymore's quip, "I just rose from the dead. How was your morning?"
As so often in ghost stories, not everyone can see the resurrected Barrymore, starting with the two of the three female characters. One is real-estate agent Felicia Dantine (Glenda House), who shows Andrew the apartment and thus makes the link to Barrymore. She talks like Miss Adelaide in Guys and Dolls crossed with Rosie O'Donnell. Spotting Andrew in tights, she opines, "You're adorable. Just like Peter Pan, only for evening."

Andrew's girlfriend Deirdre McDavey (Melissa Zakri) has implausibly retained her virginity at age 29 and is locking herself out of any intimacy until after the two of them are married. Rudnick has written Deirdre as a kind of superannuated infant, agog over unicorns and bayberry candles, and has denied the character top gags, although he does allows her some stylish riffs in a scene involving Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Zakri, memorable from more sophisticated roles at Le Moyne College, does well to keep Deirdre the object of Andrew's desire and not a caricature.

More privileged is an actress of a certain age, Lillian Troy (Pat Stone); as an ingenue, she had a long-ago fling with the famous Barrymore. This allows her to recognize him again when he comes back from the dead and she has marched through the decades. There's a certain illogic to this, which also makes her now older than Barrymore. No matter: The former lovers' foxtrot to Glenn Miller makes for one of the sweetest scenes in the show.

As Rudnick has put it together, the three male characters do most of the heavy lifting. Ciancaglini's Lefkowitz must be in a constant state of overcaffeinated volubility, putting a loud defense of profitable but vacuous popular culture in a losing struggle with art. Among his arguments for television are that you can eat while it's on, because you don't really have to watch it. His counsel to Andrew: " You don't do art. You buy it, like a Monet."

As Barrymore, tall, dark and handsome Pierce has shaved his distinctive mustache for the role, while his black tights reveal calves of Olympian strength. The second-act speech is among the finer things he's ever done, but his nice-guy persona keeps him from becoming the imposing egotist Rudnick clearly had in mind.

In contrast, slight, blond actor Wilson as Andrew must traverse the longest arc. Early on he has to recreate his audition of the "To be or not to be" soliloquy, sounding a bit like a Brando-esque street tough. He must later deliver the same lines, demonstrating how much he has learned from the master. In this scene, Wilson (who is also Appleseed's artistic director) has teamed up with director Sharee Lemos to shift the tone radically from hilarity to the weight Rudnick assumes we want to admire.

The proof of any comedy is in delivering the laughs, which this I Hate Hamlet certainly does. Appleseed's production also signals a new maturity by attracting skilled players much associated with more established companies.

This production runs through Feb. 28. See Times Table for information.