Dearly Departed Depicts Delightfully Delirious Death Debacle (I so love my Alliteration)

A key New Year’s Resolution for this glorious apocalyptic year has been to generally maintain a better attitude about things. More specifically, I intend to live by that age-old credo that when you have nothing positive to say, keep your fat stupid-looking trap shut, or in this case, do not extend your typing fingers. Rather, close them into fists, and step away from your computer. This will serve two purposes. First, it will prevent your hateful, bile-infested words from becoming visible to an unsuspecting world. Second, it will place you at the ready, should you feel the urge to find the nearest wall, and begin pounding your fists against it repeatedly until your knuckles are sore and bloody, while you rant and rave at the skies above, cursing the very essence of your pitiful existence and the nature of your own corrupted soul… but enough about my failed relationships.

No, instead let’s talk about something positive: Namely, a show about death. Dearly Departed at Chino Community Theatre is so much more, though. I am quite pleased and relieved to announce that none of my statements from the previous paragraph need apply here. I was delighted by this production. Indeed, if anything negative need to said, it’s a note that the programs lack a Surgeon General’s Warning alerting those who view it to the affect that they may laugh so hard at these characters that it may complicate pregnancy … even in the men. Indeed, I feel sterile after seeing this show (that’s a compliment).

Never before have I seen such a fascinating group of delightfully hateful characters portrayed so well by an ensemble cast. There is something for everyone in this show. That is to say, everyone who sees it will view a member of their own family up on that stage … whether they wish to own up to it, or not. The truth may be painful, but as New Orleans DA Jim Garrison once said, “Let the truth be told, though he Heavens fall.” The script, quite frankly, is brilliant in its own simple, vulgar and reptilian way. It appears as if the playwright took the heart and soul of every dysfunctional American family (which if, of course EVERY American family), and then vomited them up onto the page, so that the very essence of that regurgitation could be smeared onto any stage in the land to the director, and each corresponding actor’s content. Indeed, art imitates the human digestive system.

In a nutshell, the story centers on the Turpin family. They are a rather large Southern Baptist family who must assemble themselves despite adversity and the road-blocks resulting from the very train wreck that is their own lives to hold a funeral for their recently deceased father Bud Turpin (Steven Sotelo). Needless to say, each member's own failed aspirations and closeted skeletons manifest themselves in short-order, overshadowing this somber gathering, and hilarious pandemonium ensues.

Steven Sotelo (Bud Turpin/Junior) is a rare talent in that he already possesses the skill of a seasoned physical performer, which gives him the ability to simply step onto a stage and without even having to speak a word his facial expression and body posture alone are sufficient cause for one to collapse into violent fits of hysterical laughter tantamount to coughing spasms that often result from convulsions that are often associated with symptoms of tuberculosis (and I play Edgar Allan Poe, so I know exactly what that is). His skill was equally apparent last summer when I saw him in The Boys Next Door. In just a few years I see this kid becoming a skilled character actor equivalent in expertise to a 9^th degree black-belt in Jujitsu. He is definitely far more advanced than I was at his age… and I hate him for it.

Cyndi East portrays Raynelle, the matriarch/widower of the Turpin family and as always it is a delight to watch her work in such cantankerously close quarters with a collection of souls who quite frankly would probably find the harbors shut to them even at the Island of Misfit Toys. The defeatist cynicism she displays here grows on the viewer rather quickly; kind of like a fungus (again, that’s a compliment).

Lisa Lanier plays Marguerite, sister of the late Bud Turpin. What can I say? She embodies that bitter, holier-than-thou God freak persona with a humorous, but menacing foreboding so much so that it was all I could do to keep from falling out of my chair gut-laughing every time she entered with that terminal scowl tattooed on her face, as she began spewing those hateful Bible verses at her good-for-nothing son.

Which brings us to Tom Lively (Royce: Marguerite’s Son). Royce probably represents the biggest failure of the entire Turpin lot in that he not only has no money or job, but not even a hooker to pass off as his girlfriend. Ironically, I took him to be probably the most rational character in the story, and Mr. Lively hit all the marks without fail.

Bruce Hutchins (Ray Bud) as always is money in the bank. That is to say, he would be money in the bank in a perfect world. Specifically, a world where talented actors who captivate their audiences from the footlights are properly compensated for delivering the goods consistently, as opposed to this Hollywood World where it seems certain mental-rutabagas can easily be rewarded with million dollar lawsuit settlements from networks just for getting fired from their starring roles in their respective TV Sit-Coms due to their lack of skill in prioritizing their lives and sick-and twisted vices. But again, I fall into my old habits. Besides, that may be a run-on sentence. (Give me a break, I’m best known for acting talent, not prized grammar).

Paige Gulck (Suzanne). Ah, Paige Gulck! I have no shortage of affection for this woman’s talent and beauty. I fear, however, I must make this quick in the (unlikely) event that she reads this and gets the impression that I might be delving into “stalker-mode.” Suffice to say she has that multifaceted finesse for pretty, but ditsy femme fatales, as well as the scorned, and determined woman that we see here. I know she’s very bright, because I’ve had the good fortune of working with her regularly in John Lynd’s Dinner Theatre Murder Mystery Shows. This opportunity has also given me the luxury of uncovering the fact that not only do her and I share the same age, but the same birthday as well. I think it’s an omen … but again … I promised I wouldn't fall into stalker babblings. Unfortunately we live in an age where jokes are becoming obsolete. They have been replaced instead by lawsuits, and Homeland Security. Besides, I do have to work with her in The HMO Murders at the Sycamore Inn on February 15^th @ 7pm (that’s not too shameless a plug is it?). Yes, having her file a restraining order against me before then might complicate the stage blocking.

It goes without saying that director John Lynd’s skill for fine-tuning such cartoony and insane roles as these to such precision that their charm rivals even the most over-the-top Looney Tunes characters is unparalleled in the Inland Valley.

I wish I had more time and space to praise everyone in this show. Alas, this is after all my first review on this page, and I may have already overstayed my welcome with my obscene, and bitter rants on the general hypocrisies of human existence. I’ll simply close by stating the obvious. Though Dearly Departed may in fact be a show about death, it does, however depict that talent in the Inland Empire theatre community is very much alive, kicking, twitching, and spasming. We only need to feed it, cultivate it, and insure that is be given the proper fertilizer. Just so long as we prevent Jersey Shore from getting a spinoff in Chino, that shouldn’t be a problem.

Dearly Departed plays for two more weekends, Friday January 27th,   and February 3rd @ 8pm, Saturday the January 28th, and February 4th @ 8pm, and Sunday January 29th @ 2:30pm at the Chino Community Theatre, 13123 Seventh Street, Chino, CA 91710. Call the box office at 951-590-1149 for reservations. 

Travis Rhett Wilson (Corona’s Mr. Poe)
Sunday, January 22^th, 2012