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But seeing Irma Vep now, in the Red Bull Theater revival at the Lucille Lortel Theatre under the direction of Ludlam's original costar Everett Quinton, reminds you of why carbon copies so rarely live up to originals. Ludlam's packaging of an inestimable number of classic tropes, derived from properties as diverse as Rebecca, Wuthering Heights, Gaslight, and classic horror sources (of both the undead and lycanthropic varieties), resounds yet today for its sheer, focused zaniness, and giving two gifted actors more loaded lines (and scenery) to chew on than they'd find in most Shakespeare (who, naturally, is referenced, too). Arnie Burton (a 39 Steps alumnus) and Robert Sella have more than the teeth—and the guts—required to relate this bonkers story, which involves the new mistress of Mandacrest manor, Lady Enid Hillcrest (Burton), trying to fill the shoes of her mysteriously disappeared predecessor, Irma. All the while, Enid must deal with the handicapped handyman Nicodemus (Burton again), the scheming maid Jane (Sella), and her tragic husband (Sella again), who's determined to get to the bottom of a mystery that encompasses vampires, werewolves, and, for some reason, an Egyptian mummy. It's pretty convoluted, but the combination of shadowy histories, desperate lies, and tortured secrets at least manages to make sense in the moment, which is about the best one could hope for. Even so, you're best off not thinking about it too much. Waste too much time cogitating on matters of plot and you might miss one of the actors exiting stage right only to come zooming in from stage left, dressed as another character of another gender, seconds later. Or Enid and Nicodemus carrying on a fraught conversation under immediate threat of horror, despite the fact that, remember, Burton plays them both. Convincingly, too, I might add, with the help of little more than a couple of headpieces and a strategically placed French door. Just over the top enough in his roles, which also include the crypt guide Alcazar, Burton anchors the evening in giddiness: wide eyes and swooshing accents that evoke classic girdle-gripping monster flicks yet seem entirely, melodramatically at home here. Sella, more severe and serious, shines without sparkling quite as intently as Jane and Enid's husband, Edgar, the straight man trapped in a world of punch lines where the walls are forever closing in. Neither however is ever better than when they're together, their clipped but committed delivery of the play's nonstop string of gags as razor-sharp as you could ask for and their timing atomic-clock precise even wandering through the most absurd surroundings. The Cairo tomb scene, half a study in covert sexuality and half a mind-addled meditation on the malleability of language, is a particular standout, for the close-knit camaraderie the performers display in knocking out its hilarious wonders. But regardless of the situation, and regardless of the characters each is playing, they're a devilish duo ideally suited to their exhausting tasks. On a bare stage the two would probably reign supreme, but you'll find nothing like that here. The sets (by John Arnone) are lovingly daffy in their Gothic cheapness (the sarcophagus that ends up playing a vital role looks like something from an animated Bugs Bunny short); the lights (Peter West), costumes (Ramona Pierce), and wigs (Aaron Kinchen) are more intentionally elaborately loony in their creativity. Quinton keeps things surging and silly throughout but with just the proper shadowy undercurrent that ensures you always recognize the real stakes at play. You'd expect him, of all people, to realize that's the necessary ingredient so frequently missing from shows of this type. With The Mystery of Irma Vep under his command, you do indeed care about who's happy, who's sad, who lives, who dies, and who ends up the fixation of which shambling abomination. Quinton, Sella, and Burton understand that your heart has to be in what you're doing, even heart itself isn't the goal. This play isn't traditionally moving, or tear-jerking in the traditional sense. But for proof of the power theatre can have even at its most insouciant and insane, this production is far, far from ridiculous.
The Mystery of Irma Vep
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