Here's the subjective word from Centenary College in Hackettstown
Abstract: worth the trip, for a good production of a very enjoyable play most of us have not seen. Allen Lewis Rickman was particularly good; hope to see much more of him.
If you want to go:
What: “My Three Angels”
When: through Dec. 9
Where: Centenary Stage Company, Centenary College, 400 Jefferson St., Hackettstown
How much: $17.50 to $22.50
Info: (908) 979-0900; www.centenarystageco.org
By WILLIAM WESTHOVEN
Staff Writer
Murder seems to be catching on as a holiday-show hook in North Jersey. Scrooge was no choir boy, but at least he never committed a capital crime.
A week after the Bickford Theatre amused us with “The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940,” Centenary Stage Company regifts us “We’re No Angels,” which boasts not one, but two violent offenders.
And a week later, we’re still laughing.
Based on a French play, “La Cuisine Des Anges,” by Albert Husson, Bella and Sam Spewack, the husband-and-wife team best known for writing the book for “Kiss Me, Kate,” brought this charming—if slightly twisted—story to the London stage in 1955.
But Husson’s tale of Devil’s Island convicts who come to the aid of a kindly shop owner is best known for the Hollywood adaptation, “We’re No Angels,” a 1955 film starring Humphrey Bogart (directed by his “Casablanca” director Michael Curtiz). It was remade once again as a 1989 film with Robert De Niro and Sean Penn.
The films’ unlikely protagonists were escaped convicts tying to avoid the authorities, but the stage adaptation returns them to their original status as convicts essentially stranded on Devil’s Island in 1910. Security is light because there’s nowhere to go, so some of the criminals supplement their existence as slave-like labor for the legal residents of the tropical isle in French Guiana.
Joseph (Allen Lewis Rickman), Jules (David Volin) and Alfred (Jeremy Hall) are three such convicts, the former a white-collar crook, the latter two admitting to crime-of-passion murders. They seem remarkably well-adjusted to their fates, happy to have found a measure of brotherhood and happy to have work fixing the roof of a shop run by Felix Ducotel (Roland Johnson).
Felix is a sweet, aging man who we learn was swindled out of a better business by his nasty cousin, Henri (Patrick Cogan). His wife, Emile (Maria Brodeur) worries that he is too easy with customer credit in what appears to be a last-chance job. But Emile and their daughter, Marie Louise (Kate Billard), love him and are happily preparing for Christmas dinner, even if it is 105 degrees in the shade.
The audience, along with the eavesdropping convicts, share the family’s concern when Henri arrives to audit the books and review Felix’s job performance. Henri is accompanied by his nephew, Paul (Morgan Nichols), who Marie Louise worships, but who is now betrothed to a rich man’s daughter.
Floating through the turmoil with Zen-master serenity, the three convicts evolve into guardian angels, bringing the young lovers together and scheming to thwart Henri’s Scrooge-like mission to emasculate Felix, a Bob Cratchit if there ever was one.
But Henri is sharp and suspicious, and the convicts don’t have ghostly powers, so they draw on their checkered pasts to accomplish the mission.
“We’re No Angels” may be short on scruples compared to most holiday shows, but if for one night you accept that the end justify the means, it’s a delightful holiday treat. If not, just leave your holiday spirit home and go have a good laugh.
Whichever approach you choose, you will certainly appreciate the cast.
Equity pros Rickman and Volin have a nice chemistry with Hall as the cheerful trio of hard-timers, dressed in nearly white jumpsuits (their prison stripes are bleached by the sun and, presumably, their quasi-angelic deeds). Hall balances a tranquil calm and dark temper, while Volin, an accomplished comic actor frequently seen in the area, focuses on Jules’ never-to-be requited crush on Emile with sweet subtlety. But Rickman steals the show as Joseph, the smooth-talking con man who cooks company books with the same talent and passion that Emeril pours into a crème brule.
Johnson is perfect as the cherubic Felix, while Brodeur is convincing as the strong, yet vulnerable, wife and mother who wonders if she made the right life choices.
Brian Flynn’s cottage setting accurately suggests the home of a family clinging to Victorian values in a sweaty foreign land.
Call it devil’s food for the soul — and indulge in “We’re No Angels” as an early dessert before your traditional holiday dinner.
Abstract: worth the trip, for a good production of a very enjoyable play most of us have not seen. Allen Lewis Rickman was particularly good; hope to see much more of him.
If you want to go:
What: “My Three Angels”
When: through Dec. 9
Where: Centenary Stage Company, Centenary College, 400 Jefferson St., Hackettstown
How much: $17.50 to $22.50
Info: (908) 979-0900; www.centenarystageco.org
By WILLIAM WESTHOVEN
Staff Writer
Murder seems to be catching on as a holiday-show hook in North Jersey. Scrooge was no choir boy, but at least he never committed a capital crime.
A week after the Bickford Theatre amused us with “The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940,” Centenary Stage Company regifts us “We’re No Angels,” which boasts not one, but two violent offenders.
And a week later, we’re still laughing.
Based on a French play, “La Cuisine Des Anges,” by Albert Husson, Bella and Sam Spewack, the husband-and-wife team best known for writing the book for “Kiss Me, Kate,” brought this charming—if slightly twisted—story to the London stage in 1955.
But Husson’s tale of Devil’s Island convicts who come to the aid of a kindly shop owner is best known for the Hollywood adaptation, “We’re No Angels,” a 1955 film starring Humphrey Bogart (directed by his “Casablanca” director Michael Curtiz). It was remade once again as a 1989 film with Robert De Niro and Sean Penn.
The films’ unlikely protagonists were escaped convicts tying to avoid the authorities, but the stage adaptation returns them to their original status as convicts essentially stranded on Devil’s Island in 1910. Security is light because there’s nowhere to go, so some of the criminals supplement their existence as slave-like labor for the legal residents of the tropical isle in French Guiana.
Joseph (Allen Lewis Rickman), Jules (David Volin) and Alfred (Jeremy Hall) are three such convicts, the former a white-collar crook, the latter two admitting to crime-of-passion murders. They seem remarkably well-adjusted to their fates, happy to have found a measure of brotherhood and happy to have work fixing the roof of a shop run by Felix Ducotel (Roland Johnson).
Felix is a sweet, aging man who we learn was swindled out of a better business by his nasty cousin, Henri (Patrick Cogan). His wife, Emile (Maria Brodeur) worries that he is too easy with customer credit in what appears to be a last-chance job. But Emile and their daughter, Marie Louise (Kate Billard), love him and are happily preparing for Christmas dinner, even if it is 105 degrees in the shade.
The audience, along with the eavesdropping convicts, share the family’s concern when Henri arrives to audit the books and review Felix’s job performance. Henri is accompanied by his nephew, Paul (Morgan Nichols), who Marie Louise worships, but who is now betrothed to a rich man’s daughter.
Floating through the turmoil with Zen-master serenity, the three convicts evolve into guardian angels, bringing the young lovers together and scheming to thwart Henri’s Scrooge-like mission to emasculate Felix, a Bob Cratchit if there ever was one.
But Henri is sharp and suspicious, and the convicts don’t have ghostly powers, so they draw on their checkered pasts to accomplish the mission.
“We’re No Angels” may be short on scruples compared to most holiday shows, but if for one night you accept that the end justify the means, it’s a delightful holiday treat. If not, just leave your holiday spirit home and go have a good laugh.
Whichever approach you choose, you will certainly appreciate the cast.
Equity pros Rickman and Volin have a nice chemistry with Hall as the cheerful trio of hard-timers, dressed in nearly white jumpsuits (their prison stripes are bleached by the sun and, presumably, their quasi-angelic deeds). Hall balances a tranquil calm and dark temper, while Volin, an accomplished comic actor frequently seen in the area, focuses on Jules’ never-to-be requited crush on Emile with sweet subtlety. But Rickman steals the show as Joseph, the smooth-talking con man who cooks company books with the same talent and passion that Emeril pours into a crème brule.
Johnson is perfect as the cherubic Felix, while Brodeur is convincing as the strong, yet vulnerable, wife and mother who wonders if she made the right life choices.
Brian Flynn’s cottage setting accurately suggests the home of a family clinging to Victorian values in a sweaty foreign land.
Call it devil’s food for the soul — and indulge in “We’re No Angels” as an early dessert before your traditional holiday dinner.
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