Help Me Help Myself
Posted by Fetch Wed, 09 Nov 2005 19:00:00 GMT
I heard the door wedged open from the inside. Ducking my head I entered the mysterious lobby of the Looking-Glass Theatre where the cast and crew for Jenna Bans’ Help Me, Help Myself was doing their last run-through before previews. Light cascaded over Marina Kotovnikov, who plays Claire, as she laughingly tried on a dangerously short, checked skirt (she decided against it in the end, so don’t get any ideas). Behind her a cascade of checked tiles picked up a purple wash, a colorful wonderland of a set with ever unfolding, er, I should say ballooning ideas. Blow-up furniture is a central feature of Diana Whitten’s design, it separates the dream world of Help Me from the daily grind that its main characters struggle to evade or deny outright. At one point a particularly saggy blow-up sofa becomes a character in and of itself, reminiscent of that ancient futon essential to every college dorm.
Ben (Matthew Rashid, who also directs) seems to be stuck in college mode. His idealism, klutziness, and Cap N’ Crunch-ing roommate Nevin (Joffre Myers), make it clear Ben would be more at home on a verdant campus than the streets of New York. Sarah (Jessica Arinella) can’t help but be charmed, and their chemistry is one of the more magic elements of the play (an insider’s note: Matt and Jessica engaged, so don’t get any ideas). Even wearing a spangled pirate eye-patch Sarah is lovely, and if she gives Estelle Getty makeovers to dead people it’s not a deal-breaker…is it?
On the other side of the stage, Beckie (Julie Totorici) has a few problems of her own. Beckie has discovered a life-changing book. It’s called Help Me, Help Myself: The New York Guide to Love, Fame, Fortune, and Everything You’ve Ever Dreamt of in 30 Days or Less. The book advises her to confront the “bad spiritual plumbers” of her life, so when the girl who mortified her in sixth-grade dance class shows up at the restaurant where Beckie works she marshals her courage. The ensuing scene is indescribably funny. Beckie’s dance rendition of “I Think We’re Alone Now” will make you flash back to that time you lip-synched to Ofra Haza when everyone else was doing Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” and the class teased you for weeks. Or maybe your jazz hands were always stellar.
As the rehearsal wrapped, we heard a sound like hands clapping. But it wasn’t coming from the theatre. Producer Alicia Arinella opened the stage door and we saw that the lobby was flooded, water dripping out of the ceiling and seeping from the floor. Despite having to cancel preview night, we were all in good spirits. The play was hilarious, looked great and, Alicia joked, we could always give the audience little orange life-jackets. At least it’s not leaking on the beautiful checkerboard of the theatre, we thought, although if it did we could float around on the blow-up sofas.
