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Reading a play can often be like watching a movie with the mute on—that
is, you miss out on a big part of the intended effect. Without
the actors and the scenery there to fill in the gaps, it’s hard for a reader
to properly grasp the point, much less any intended humor. And if there are
historical and/or cultural boundaries, it can be nearly hopeless (I’m convinced
this is why so many people give up on Shakespeare in the ninth grade).
However, when a play is well-written, with good explanatory notes, and is carefully
adapted for a modern audience, reading it can be an enjoyable experience.
The Underpants, Steve Martin’s new adaptation of a Carl Sternheim play,
is just such a case. It’s funny, it’s farcical, it’s fast-reading.
Although there may be a few pages with only one laugh, most pages have several.
The story is, as the title suggests, about underwear, an incredibly risqué
subject for 1910 Germany, the story’s setting. Louise Maske’s underpants
fall down during a public parade for the king, something her clerk husband strongly
disapproves of. This act, though completely unintended, naturally has plenty
of consequences, drawn out in the rest of the play. The characters
are fresh and deftly drawn, their wits are quick, and the plot is full of twists
(if not downright twisted).
Although I’m not sure whether this is a perfect work, it’s
certainly very accessible and enjoyable. I would love to see this play in production—it
would be great to see it “with the sound on.” If you're interested in more of Steve Martin's work, read my Shopgirl review.
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