“Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play” Ably Celebrates Remembrance of Things Loved

As a dedicated fan of The Simpsons (Seasons 1–6, anyway — the only ones that count), I’ve long been intrigued by the premise of Anne Washburn’s Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play: In a post-apocalyptic world, a group of survivors entertain themselves by trying to recall as much as they can about a Simpsons episode. Years and then decades later, the retelling takes on new and unexpected resonances.

Finally, California Repertory has given me a chance to see whether Washburn delivers. And though neither script nor production is perfect, ultimately there’s a lot more good than bad with both, so you’ve got a chance right now to have a theatrical experience that’s anything but run-of-the-mill.

Shortly after the failure of the electrical grid (really, the whole world?!) and nuclear power plants going kablooey (this is the laziest part of Washburn’s writing), a half-dozen survivors huddle around a campfire trying to help each other remember as much as possible about the Simpsons episode “Cape Feare”, Season 5’s absolutely fabulous reworking of Martin Scorsese’s Cape Fear remake (Sideshow Bob doing a hella Robert De Niro). Essential as it may be to the play’s overall structure, this is the drabbest of Mr. Burns’s three acts. Although some of the back-and-forth is amusing and we feel the tension every time the dialog stops dead when they hear something out there in the dark, there’s no getting around the feeling that we’re just biding our time until the story kicks in.

Seven years later, our survivors have formed a touring theatrical troupe (if this sounds a bit too familiar, keep in mind that Mr. Burns premiered two years before the publication of the novel Station Eleven, never mind the miniseries you binged during the pandemic), and we catch up with them as they rehearse a seemingly pointless domestic scene (woman comes home, takes a bath, talks of lunches being stolen at work, revels in the possibility of hubby bringing her a glass of wine or a Diet Coke on ice) and give us a bit too much exposition about their place in a world of similar troupes who barter with fellow survivors for lines from Simpsons episodes to add to their performance repertoire. 

They also specialize in musical pastiche — and here is where the young cast, a bit stiff to this point, comes alive. Never mind that the material is utterly disposable shite (Spears, Stefani, Shakira): the routine they make out of it is infectious. 

Yet we continue to be nagged by the lack of action. Is anything actually going to happen? Something finally does at the end of Act 2, but it turns out to be so utterly unconnected to anything else in Mr. Burns that it seems to be there only because Washburn knew she had a problem. This doesn’t fix it. Worse still, because the characters haven’t been developed (two clumsy monologs flail in this direction), we don’t really care what happens to them.

But things get interesting in Act 3. It’s 75 years later, and we are treated to a (rehearsal of a) self-contained, wildly bastardized musical version of Cape Feare-cum-Greek tragedy: Mr. Burns (Juver Ramirez), a malevolent world-spirit who has visited nuclear catastrophe upon Springfield, intercepts the fleeing Simpson family on their houseboat and subjects Bart (Bobby Brannon) to a dark night of the soul. And here, in the play-within-a-play’s last words, we explicitly hit on the theme of Mr. Burns: “Love never dies in memory.” The Simpsons, Scorsese films, shitty pop music, lost little luxuries like bubble baths, writing your name in felt-tip before stowing lunch in the workplace fridge, even simply sipping Chablis — it all falls into place as part of a march to remember what we’ve loved and lost in the hopes of creating anew. “Love never dies in memory / And I will live life gloriously.”

Act 3 is also where Cal Rep kicks things into high gear. For a start, it looks great. Costume designer Taryn Wyss’s glorious riot of color and shape more than makes up for her Act 1 gaffe of accoutering the survivors in outdoor gear seemingly just arrived from Amazon. Jessica York’s set design is perfectly dialed into the exacting vision director Josh Nathan and choreographer Annabelle Kerns have for assemblage and vigorous physical flow. 

The central cogs in that flow are Mr. Burns — who Ramirez embodies with such Shakespearean gusto and stentorian elocution that anyone searching for a great Othello or Falstaff should look no further — and his minions Itchy (Kerns) & Scratchy (Victoria Martins), who slide across the stage with frenetic grace as they fight and fight and fight. Every breath these three take, every move they make is great, but if you’re looking for a highlight, dig Burns’s “story of love and hate” monolog (which you’re most likely to know from Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing…although Lee lifts it almost verbatim from The Night of the Hunter…where it’s delivered by Robert Mitchum…who plays Max Cady (see Sideshow Bob/De Niro above) in the original Cape Fear. Shortcomings notwithstanding, don’t kid yourself: Washburn knows what she’s doing).

But everyone in Act 3 is a winner. In their own right, the Greek chorus is just as good as anybody else onstage. And although Mr. Burns’s music ain’t exactly Sondheim or Kander & Ebb, its tenuousness has a wistful (dare I say) beauty that does indeed sound of a distant future yearning for the past. Performance-wise, a lot could go wrong here; full credit to the performers and musical directors Jennifer Richardson & Stephanie Smith that nothing does. (Somewhere in here I should mention Kelby Sandvick’s sound design, the best thing about the pre-intermission mise en scène and just as good for the duration.)

Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play is compelling theatre that saves the best for last. After Cal Rep’s lackluster effort last time out, I seriously thought about skipping this one and returning to see where they were at in the spring. If I had, I would have missed this fine example of the impressive work Cal Rep is capable of — even with a crop of talent this green — when they stage a bold, thoughtful work and fully commit all their resources. Good show, kids.

Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play at California Repertory — Cal State Long Beach
Times: Thur-Sat 7:30 p.m., plus Sat 2 p.m.
The show runs through December 9.
Cost: $23-$25
Details: (562) 985-5526, csulb.edu/theatre-arts
Venue: CSULB Studio Theater, Theatre Arts Building (South Campus), Long Beach