by Mark Camoletti
Directed by Jim Warren
At Stage West, Mississauga
September 20-November 23, 2008

  Boeing Boeing is a farce that promises sex it doesn’t deliver, yet manages to be hilarious about its own evasions. The plot concerns a successful architect, Bernard, living in Paris who devises a cleverly precise timetable by which to handle his three airline stewardess fiancées from three different countries. When an old friend, Robert, turns up on his way to visit an uncle in Aix, Bernard tries to show off his skilful operation, but things descend into comic chaos as schedules change, flights are delayed, and a new Boeing aircraft zooms its way in the skies. The play is saturated with expectations of a salacious French roué and his triple boudoirs, though the real fun has less to do with sex than with the geometry and mechanics of farce itself. Part of this has a little to do with the English translation of Beverly Cross and Francis Evans (in which the two male protagonists are turned into Americans), and a great deal to do with the plot itself. Will Bernard be able to keep his little black book in tidy order when one girlfriend threatens to arrive at the wrong time—which is any time when he is with another girlfriend? Will international warfare break out if Bernard’s roguish dishonesty is exposed when his practice of “perpetual motion” and “pure mathematics” comes undone? The American gal, Gloria, is a tall, leggy, assertive number; the Italian, Gabriella, is a loud, passionate dame; and the German, Gretchen, is a voluptuous blonde who can easily turn dangerously intimidating. But these women are mere cartoons—with far less wit than the figure of the maid, Bertha, a black-clad existentialist of malcontent—compared to the figures of Bernard and Robert. Particularly Robert, whose shyness and awkward physicality have a peculiarly endearing quality. It’s a great role for a great farceur, and though Peter Scolari at Stage West doesn’t match the brilliance of Mark Rylance, whom I saw in the recent hit Broadway version, he offers a superb interpretation of this hang-dog innocent—a small-town guy who expects to be married soon, though he has met only one girl and can’t remember where she is.

   Given that this is not Feydeau or Coward, Jim Warren’s production (with a decent set and good costuming) does not pretend that it is offering champagne and caviar. It actually manages a high level of proficient farce, with few missteps. His cast is fine, with two exceptions, and he whips up the tempo, especially in the contretemps of Act Two. Susan Henley doesn’t add any gloss to the role of Bertha, her French accent wavering incredibly, and Michael Lamport as Bernard is unconvincing as a sophisticated roué who relishes the benefits of conjugal life without any of the drawbacks, though he is far less objectionable than he usually is with his repetitive mugging and overacting. As the American hostess, Ellen Dubin looks as tall as the Empire State Building and has a prettier edifice. Jane Spence plays her generic Italian with Roman sexiness, and Cara Leslie is an outstanding Gretchen, buxomly blonde and supercharged with Lufthansa energy, and not at all like the grotesque Gretchen I saw on Broadway.

   However, no version of this farce could ever amount to anything without an actor of genius in the part of Robert. Mark Rylance set the standard for the role with his masterpiece of comic acting that recalled the best poker-faced timing and subtlety of the late Buster Keaton and the sweet innocence of an overgrown babe in sexual woods. However, Scolari shows that a first-rate actor can re-shape a major role according to his own personality and talent. Nervously given to hyperventilating and sticking part of his palm into a waistcoat pocket, executing a small, broken dance of half steps, and sometimes looking dangerously on the verge of lockjaw, the actor delivers a hilarious performance, turning from small-town puritan innocent to a figure of sly, wanton lust once Gloria is erotically excited by the shape of his mouth when he articulates a particular phrase. Scolari turns the character’s dichotomies into delirious and delicious drollery. At one moment, he is an awkward little man acutely uncertain of himself; at another, he mimics John Wayne in an attempt to enlarge his pint-sized machismo. At one instant, he is acutely and embarrassingly dyspeptic; at another he is surprised yet vain about Gloria’s sexual compliment. Scolari delivers one of the most memorable farcical performances ever to grace the Stage West theatre. He alone is worth the price of admission, but, fortunately, he is not the only reason why this Boeing Boeing takes commendable comic flight.

photo: Peter Scolari as Robert


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