The Daily Times

“Fuddy Meers” is a thoroughly unsettling play.

Even though this dark comedy has moments that are sheer hilarity, as you laugh you feel the “dark” half of the genre equation creeping up behind you. If you’ve ever let out a nervous chuckle while the hair stood up on the back of your neck, you’ve got an idea what I’m talking about.

The play shows us a day in the life of Claire (Magan Wiles), a woman suffering from a form of amnesia that finds her waking each day with a “blank slate.” She has no memory of herself or her own history. During the day, she makes new memories, but each time she sleeps, those memories are wiped clean. Most of the story is told from Claire’s point of view, so as an audience we are as much in the dark as she is about her past and about the identity and motivations of the other characters.

The action opens with Claire waking. A man named Richard (David Brian Alley) greets her and immediately begins filling her in about who she is and their relationship. He is her husband, they have a teenage son with an attitude and an affinity for marijuana. All of this is rather a shock to Claire, but she takes it all in with good-natured bemusement.

Madcappery ensues almost immediately. When Richard leaves the room to shower and prepare for his workday, a strange man (Jefferson Slinkard) crawls from beneath Claire’s bed. He tells Claire her husband is trying to kill her and manically pleads with her to come with him for her own safety. He takes her to her mother Gertie’s (Carol Mayo Jenkins) house.

And then things get weird.

The title of the play comes from Gertie’s mispronunciation (she has aphasia caused by a recent stroke) of the phrase “funny mirrors.” It’s a reference to the funhouse mirrors that distort the reality they reflect. Nothing is exactly as it seems in those twisted reflections.

Every character in this play is a distorted reflection. Each of them is trying to recreate reality in his or her own image. These people are seeking redemption on their own terms. Rather than face and deal with the realities of their own nature, they use the “blank slate” of Claire’s amnesia as an opportunity to bury and ignore the past. As lie builds upon lie and distortions reflect back on themselves, the farce becomes impossible to sustain.

For the audience, these lies and distortions create hilarious comic moments. But playwright David Lindsay-Abaire builds in subtle clues that all is not what it seems, and that the truth is going to be a good deal less funny than what we’re seeing in the “fuddy meers.”

Director John Sipes and his artistic team create the perfect palate for this play. A positively stunning set by Anita Fuchs includes multimedia elements that complement the underlying themes of the show. Home movie clips play in the backdrop of the set before and after the play and during scene changes. It’s visually appealing, but also drives home the idea that memories can be like film clips or snapshots; not everything we remember is perfect or exact.

Those projections are the work of Joe Payne, who also did the sound design for the show. It’s perfect. He incorporates classic TV themes into the soundtrack of the play. I’m pretty sure I even heard a snippet of the theme from “This is Your Life” at one point. Again, the sound design reinforces the notion that memory, even institutional memory, can be flawed and distorted.

A fantastic ensemble cast gives performances that sell the comedy of this show, which is vitally important given the seriously dark undertone the script presents.

The three artists-in-residence at the Clarence Brown Theatre turn in standout performances. David Brian Alley, Neil Friedman and Carol Mayo Jenkins shine in their portrayals of characters who would be flat and cartoonish in the hands of less capable actors.

“Fuddy Meers” delivers laughs throughout, but you’ll leave the theater questioning exactly what you were laughing at. The laughter is really just another “funny mirror.” And the reflection is liable to haunt you for a few days after you’ve taken a look.

Timothy Hankins is a writer, musician and arts critic who contributes regularly to Weekend. Contact him at (weekendcolumn@hnkns.com)

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