Playwright: Charles Busch. At: Hell in a Handbag Productions at Bailiwick Repertory, 1229 W. Belmont. Phone: 773-883-1090; $15-$25. Runs through: June 1. Photo by Rick Aguilar
Don't pre-judge Die! Mommie, Die! if you only know the 2003 film. It's an example of a play failing on screen transfer—even with original playwright and star Charles Busch adapting his 1999 original.
Which is why all camp lovers must see Die! Mommie, Die! live. What's leaden and lifeless on celluloid is outrageous and slap-happy in the flesh.
Give thanks to Hell in a Handbag Productions for unleashing Die! Mommie, Die! again. High art it ain't, but it's pure trashy fun.
Die! Mommie, Die! taps into our obsession of ruthlessly picking apart fading glamour divas as they try to make a comeback ( oops, a return ) to the spotlight. Then throw in a few twisted murder plots and devastating secrets and you've got a clever camp confection.
Instead of just stealing from one source, Busch picks and chooses all sorts of catchphrases and dramatic situations for choice camp value. Overwrought Douglas Sirk films are plundered, as are murderous children from the ancient Greek Orestia.
Knowing the sources adds immeasurably, but it's not a requirement to know to laugh yourself silly in the mostly pitch-perfect Hell in a Handbag production under Cheryl Snodgrass' skilled direction.
Things get off to a great start with a funny spinning headline montage of newspapers and publicity photos, all featuring David Cerda's superimposed face. Known for his obsessive drag impersonation of Joan Crawford, Cerda excels here as aging Hollywood has-been Angela Arden with arch acting poses a plenty.
Cerda is aided and abetted by costume designer John Nasca, who provides him a parade of simultaneously gorgeous and hideous outfits. And it's not just Cerda who looks and acts fabulous in the 1960s retro wear.
The way-too-short go-go girl dress for Veronica Sheaffer as spiteful daughter Edith generates loads of laughs ( as does Sheaffer for her disturbing daddy devotion ) . Ed Jones brilliantly utilizes Jewish caricatures to play Angela's bossy producer husband, Sol Sussman.
Spending a lot of time out of his hippie outfit is Zack Geoffroy ( who is amusing as mentally unstable Sussman son, Lance ) , while Merrie Greenfield works her uniform to suit the Republican boozer maid Bootsie Carp.
What's even more important than looking the parts is that practically the entire ensemble gets the frantic camp style down so expertly. An exception is Jeffrey Patrick Olson's buff gigolo Tony Parker. Although Olson looks gorgeous in the part, he doesn't match up to the loose and comic intensity of his cast mates ( but for his character, it's forgivable ) .
To some, Die! Mommie, Die may just look like a self-indulgent excuse for fabulous drag and recycling old Hollywood quotes. To others ( meaning a large portion of this publication's readership ) , it's pure camp heaven.