In 1936, comedy generally lacked in subtlety and nuance, socialist ideas weren’t necessarily anathema to mainstream America, and dating your secretary got you an attaboy rather than an HR investigation. In other words, it was a very different time.
Although Tony Kirby (Hayden Maher) very much wants to marry Alice Sycamore (Natalie Kathleen), she’s sure he and his upper-crust family (he’s the boss’s son) could never accept her loving but quirky-as-all-get-out family. Her dad (Todd Rew) is obsessed with the manufacture of fireworks. Her no-talent mom took to writing plays simply because once upon a time someone mistakenly dropped off a typewriter. Sister Essie (Lyndsay Palmer), whose husband (Giovanni Navarro) is always plunking away on a little xylophone and printing little cards that appear to call for stateside communist revolution, is an amateur confectioner who constantly trains to be a dancer despite her klutziness. Grandpa (Martin Vanderhof) gave up his successful business simply because he didn’t enjoy it and refuses to pay income tax. And just about anyone who spends time at the Sycamore house takes up residency as an honorary family member.
Predictably, the comedy comes from the Sycamore clan’s idiosyncrasies and what happens when the Kirbys (Allison McGuire and Frank Valdez) are brought into the fold. And the heart — predictably — comes from Hayden’s unfailing love for Alice and Grandpa’s offering Mr. Kirby some folksy, capitalist-rat-race-criticizing bromides.
Painting characters and themes in such broad strokes means the audience doesn’t have to pay close attention to know exactly what’s going on. Whether that’s a virtue or a vice, however, depends on your temperament.
That said, LB Playhouse serves the material fittingly. A couple of the best jokes come not from dialog but smart blocking and timing, and the cast unreservedly sell their one-dimensional roles. And because set designer Vanessa Lara and prop master Allison Mamann have done yeoman’s work bringing to life the Sycamore home (the play’s sole setting), even those in the audience not transported by this sort of storytelling may still feel relatively immersed in the play’s universe.
Having never seen/read You Can’t Take It With You in any form (including Frank Capra’s 1938 Oscar-winning film adaptation), I don’t know exactly what cuts director Mitchell Nunn made to the original script (I do know that the original Broadway production was in three acts, not the two we get here), but the result has an economy that helps keep the lack of tonal shifts and one-note nature of the yuks from becoming too tedious. At a mere 45 minutes, Act One is so brief — easily 25% shorter than just about any play you’ll ever see — that you come back after intermission with plenty of energy to sit through Act Two, which, despite being longer than its counterpart — a rarity for plays — never really wears out its welcome, at least if you felt like going along for the ride in the first place.
A few aspects of LB Playhouse’s production transcend the rather limited parameters of script. The energy at play when the Kirbys sit down to dinner with the Sycamores, with almost the entire cast simultaneously engaging with each other, is so nice that one wonders why Nunn doesn’t go to this well more consistently when the opportunities present themselves. And although You Can’t Take It With You lacks a compelling emotional center (neither Grandpa’s folk wisdom and Alice’s familial love really resonate), Hayden Maher manages to bring genuine emotion to his climactic speech without overselling.
But the real find in this production is Natalie Kathleen. Although Alice (like all the characters) is less than nuanced, in Act One you can’t help suspecting that Kathleen is a major talent even though the role isn’t giving her much to do. Then comes her big moment in Act Two, and your suspicions are more than confirmed. I very much hope to see this newcomer to LB Playhouse perform parts that allow her stretch, because that will undoubtedly be something to see.
A much harder bit of talent to spot is Alison McGuire as Mrs. Kirby. Despite being confined to a small role and a single scene, her reactions to what happens around her were so good and in the moment that I found myself watching her even when the ostensible focus was elsewhere.
Although the best works of bygone eras transcend their times, You Can’t Take It With You is more like something from a time capsule, a quaint and dated artifact of what our ancestors once took to be the state of the art. (You Can’t Take It With You won a Pulitzer, which seems incomprehensible by today’s standards.)
Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean it can’t be enjoyed, even if just as a nostalgia trip. So if you’re in the mood for old-timey screwball comedy, Long Beach Playhouse may have your fix.
Long Beach Playhouse presents You Can’t Take It With You Friday–Saturday 8:00 p.m. and Sunday 2:00 p.m. through May 7. Address: 5021 E. Anaheim St. Cost: $14 to $24. COVID safety protocols include mandatory masking throughout the duration, plus proof of vaccination or a negative test result within the prior 48 hours. For tix or more info, call (562) 494-1014 or visit LBplayhouse.org.