Before penning The Explorers Club in 2013, Nell Benjamin gained a starry stage credit with the musical adaptation of the film Legally Blonde. But while that Broadway show cleverly jabbed the male establishment by sending a perky coed to Harvard Law only to see her succeed beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, The Explorers Club doesn’t quite capture the same smart twist. When the snooty British gentlemen of this stuffy society insult the qualified woman who wishes to join their ranks, there’s a tinge of cruelty that doesn’t waft away with the cigar smoke.
Swaggering around Clare Floyd DeVries’ wood-paneled, antler-adorned set (Lynn Lovett’s detailed props and decorations complete the manly picture), the five members of the 1879 Explorers Club swirl brandy and pat each other on the back for their various scientific accomplishments (real or imagined).
When shy botanist Lucius Fretway (John-Michael Marrs, adorable in the throes of neuroses) proposes they add Phyllida Spotte-Hume (Dana Schultes) to their ranks, the men first guffaw, then are outraged. How could a woman possibly be anything other than a tea-party hostess or an ornament on her husband’s arm, they bluster. The fact that Phyllida has discovered a lost city, learned the natives’ language and customs, and brought one of its “savages” back to meet the queen counts for little in their eyes.
This is the idea upon which Benjamin builds her script. It’s an acceptable premise, but one that wears thin as the men — led by abrasive archeo-theologist Professor Sloane (Michael Corolla) — unendingly degrade and offend Phyllida simply for being female.
When the directionally challenged, yet supremely confident Harry Percy (Thomas Ward, charming despite his character’s personality) makes lewd comments behind her back, the atmosphere is ickier than it should be. The foundation is set for a triumphant reversal, but Phyllida never stands up for herself. Instead she’s a timid mouse, retreating to sit alone in the front room while the men enjoy their brandy. Each time they tell her to go away, she does.
Director Jim Covault does ferret out the humor in the men’s relationships, particularly between Professors Cope and Walling. Cope, played by Aaron Roberts, is more than a little obsessed with snakes. Walling (Mark Shum, the funniest in the bunch) studies guinea pigs and lovingly carries his loyal specimen, Jane, with him everywhere. Their star-crossed friendship is odd but surprisingly endearing.
The cast more than nails the physical humor, since this production played at Stage West in Fort Worth last month before transferring to Addison. Credit goes to Babakayode Ipaye for the lightning-quick comedy staging (get ready to clap when the drinks are poured). Michael Ulmer, smeared with cobalt-blue paint and bedecked with feathers as the foreign visitor Luigi, lets the strangeness of his situation play nakedly across his face. Watching him adopt the era’s elaborate social graces, yet misinterpret their intent, is one of the production’s sincere joys.