In the United States, Schedule I substances are illegal supposedly because they are categorically unsafe, with no accepted medicinal use and a high potential for abuse. Putting aside questions of whether the government should be in the business of criminalizing choices consenting adults make about what we put in our own bodies, heroin and fentanyl are not unreasonable representatives of Schedule I.
The unreasonableness required to put cannabis in the same category is profound indeed. Nonetheless, despite an ever-increasing number of states choosing a different approach since California became (in 1996) the first to legalize its medicinal use, cannabis was Schedule I until just six months ago.
The story of how such unreasonableness reigned for so long is tied to a protracted nationwide campaign to demonize cannabis — or marihuana, as the propaganda started calling it in the early 20th century. The 1936 film Reefer Madness was part of that campaign, depicting the effects of cannabis use with such absurd caricatures that you’d think the whole thing was satire if you didn’t know better.
How do you satirize something so unintentionally self-satirizing? Reefer Madness: The Musical takes a shot by going all-in on silly plus it’s-funny-because-it’s true. And while this is not a foolproof formula for success — especially when the music doesn’t stand up on its own merits — Long Beach Playhouse brings so much joie de vivre that you’d have to come to the theater in a pretty bad mood to not have a good time while you’re there.
We, the audience, are gathered here today to hear about the evils of marihuana as exemplified by “the Harper affair,” a tragic tale that plays out before our eyes as a sort of flashback, as we watch goody-two-shoes high-school sweethearts Jimmy Harper (Teddy Larkin) and Mary Lane (Kacey Oschack) come to drown in a cesspool of manslaughter, murder, sex-trafficking, baby-selling, and cannibalism — all because of this “Demon Weed.”
Although Reefer Madness: The Musical is (obvs) a musical, the music qua music doesn’t matter; rather, it’s all about the overall energy and tone. To that end, clearly director Rovin Jay was less interested in assembling a cast of great singers — talent that would be superfluous to this material — than in making sure each role was assigned to an actor who would unabashedly embrace its ludicrousness and run with it.
Start with Derek Rubiano as The Lecturer, who addresses us with a perfectly honed oily sententiousness that lets us in on every joke without ever dropping a metacontextual earnestness, as he sporadically interrupts the action to moralize &c. His every utterance of “marihuana” is italicized, letting us know what an invasive (read: Mexican — ew!) species this is on good ol’ American (White) soil. And the more often Rubiano steps into role after supporting role within the Harper affair proper, the funnier it gets.
As the weed-crossed lovers, Larkin and Oschack are properly aw-shucks and gee-whiz both before and after their fall into (to quote from the film’s original poster) “drug-crazed abandon.” Among the rest of a cast-without-a-weak-link, Alex Pierdant stands out not only as a constantly giggling pot-fiend (vocally evoking South Park’s underpants gnomes), but also during his hilarious turn as a baby sold to support his mother’s habit. (“REEFER makes you SELL YOUR BABIES…for DRUG MONEY” reads the post-song placard toted by Olivia Cusick, the play’s equivalent of a ring-card girl in boxing.)
The triumph of that small but unforgettable Act One moment is partly due to Christina Bayer’s costume design, which is inventively cheesy and more elaborate than we have any right to expect for a show this kitschy, not just perfectly complementing the action but earning several laughs all on its own.
The fact that the music doesn’t matter hasn’t led choreographer Sonya Randall to simply phone it in. Despite the tight confines of the Playhouse’s Studio Theater stage, every number is full of vim and vibrancy. Similarly, Jay’s blocking presents each moment for maximum effect and keeps our eyes aswivel.
With a title like “Reefer Madness: The Musical,” RM:TM seemed destined to be cute but ultimately cloying. However, thanks to how thoughtfully the Playhouse brings it to life, this is a show that starts out fun and builds on that momentum.
Reefer Madness: The Musical at Long Beach Playhouse
Times: Fri–Sat 8 pm, Sun 2 pm
The show runs through November 15.
Cost: $36
Details: (562) 494-1014; LBplayhouse.org
Venue: Long Beach Playhouse, 5021 E. Anaheim St., Long Beach