Through December 20, 2009
Reviewed by Andrea Braun
The
Santaland Diaries
is David Sedaris’ autobiographical one-person show about his experience as a
not-so-jolly young elf at Macy’s during a holiday season during which he was
desperate for a job. Eric Little plays Sedaris’ character with energy and humor
as he walks us through the hell that is covered in colorful trees and lights
and fake snow with Santa’s chair in the center.
“David”
begins speaking from the audience, dressed casually and holding a cup of
coffee. After he introduces himself, “A 33-year-old man about to apply for a
job as an elf,” he moves to the gaudy set and continues to walk us through his
experience. After a more rigorous interview process than one would expect, he is
hired and chooses the name “Crumpet.” He’s then issued an outrageous costume
which he peels off his street clothes to reveal. When he dons a green felt
jacket and jester’s boots, the look is complete—and completely absurd.
Basic
elf training is demanding, and it’s made worse by a woman who always has
questions, even when they’re running overtime. David despises her. (He also
resents a genuine dwarf whom all the children favor and who he believes has a
built in advantage in the elf game.) Crumpet’s name is also considerably less
sweet than names the other elves pick like “Snowflake” who flirts with all the
men and “Flaky” who tells everyone she’s an artist, but her medium is dicey:
She glues hair to objects and sells them.
Crumpet
maintains eye contact with the audience and interacts with them in other ways,
such as pulling out a camera (his props are concealed in the stack of wrapped
presents) and taking pictures, which he then presents to his subjects. Little
has done this show before and presumably knows it well, but he stumbled in
delivering the lines a surprising number of times, though overall, he gives a
convincing performance.
Who
knew there were so many kinds of elves—those who take the pictures, do
crowd control, work the exit, introduce the children to Santa, man the “magic
star” where children will see Santa’s image if they stand on the star. (This
proves not to be a big thrill, so Crumpet begins telling the kids they’ll see
Cher.) He has a funny bit about learning some sign language, then picking up
some more from his sister Amy who teaches him how to sign inappropriate
material for an elf. He looks desperately for any kind of diversion from the
brutal facts of his life: He is playing an elf for money and subjecting himself
to all sorts of indignities from ridicule to throw-up to tantrums to people who
toss used Pampers into the fake snow bank. But, hey, it’s a living. For a few
weeks anyway.
Various
Christmas tunes in all styles, even one by Cher and one hip-hop, punctuate the
scenes and reflect the disgruntled gnome’s moods. As Christmas nears, even the
P.A. system becomes hysterical (voice of Ben Nordstrom who also directed). Nine
days before lift-off, Crumpet pulls out a cocktail shaker and downs a martini.
The
show is a, well, godsend for committed holiday curmudgeons like me. I remember
as a child being terrified of Santa but having to ride the little train in the
downtown Famous Barr to see him. As a parent, I don’t think I got but one
picture of my child with Santa where she’s not crying. Perhaps the most
profound question this show proposes (on some level anyway) is why do we do it?
What about this particular tradition makes us feel like it’s a necessary part
of growing up?
Finally
Crumpet does meet a “good” Santa (most of them are not particularly pleasant in
real life) and feels the spirit, but then it’s back to reality with scarcely a
pause in the action. After all, as he tells us “Santa” is an anagram of
“Satan,” setting up another funny bit, complete with some special light effects
designed by Maureen Hanratty. In sum, this show is a lightweight, enjoyable
antidote to the annual holiday overdose of sweetness and light, as Crumpet
tells it like it really is in Santaland in a brisk 65 minutes without
intermission.
The
Santaland Diaries
runs at Echo Theatre in Crestwood Court’s ArtSpace, Theatre 134. Call 314-225-4329 or visit www.echotheatrecompany.org.
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