Theater in the Park

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” - Ancient Visgoth Proverb

Finer advice may have never been given, even if it isn't Visgoth. Any seasoned traveler knows local food, customs and experiences will enliven any trip. The same is true with anyone moving to a new place; by integrating into the local scene, a new community converts from a foreign land to home. So where do a young couple go in Edison, NJ to see and be seen? Overwhelming responses pointed to the summer 'theater in the park' series. Overwhelming, I no longer trust my sources. Have you ever watched one of Wes Anderson movies in a room full of stiffs? The Royal Tennemabaums? The Darjeeling Limited? No? Well, the movies are full of gut-wrenching ironic humor, which is only funnier when nobody around you gets it. That was theater in the park.

When my sister, girlfriend and I showed up at the park, nobody expected Shakespeare, least of all because the scheduled play was “The Wedding Singer.” Let New York and Boston perform Shakespeare under the cool evening air – Edison has a musical based on an Adam Sandler movie! Yet we arrived hopeful, after all the movie had been funny and the music classic. What we discovered is that for copyright reasons, all those popular 80's songs had been stripped for newly written show tunes, which most certainly lacked the same omph as their original counterparts. However, the play had been on Broadway (not with this cast, I'm guessing), so I'll cut short any further rebuke on music.

The production itself tried mightily, and even had some sleek choreography at times, but couldn't overcome it's one fatal flaw – neither the actors nor director was very good. The male lead, saddled with the unenviable task of being Adam Sandler, fell below our diminutive expectations, and most of the rest of the cast simply delivered line after line, rarely putting much feeling behind them but you don't need a critics review. The run is over and you've been mercifully spared.

What you likely can't understand, was how surreal the audience was. They didn't laugh, they didn't clap, but would erupt into wild applause at the end of each act. It was as if nobody told them it was a comedy. The actors would deliver a funny line, and you would hear crickets. The actors would unintentionally deliver a funny line, and again, crickets. Well, crickets and the hyena-like laughs of my party. The only other sound the audience made was the woman behind me who would affirm our laughter at the comic bits (intentional only) by muttering to her friend, “oh, that's funny”, which I thought was a pretty funny way to enjoy comedy. Aside from funny lady, the audience sat in their butterfly chairs, munching on popcorn, riveted by the tragedy on stage. Did I say tragedy? I meant comedy. They sat silently enjoying the comedy on stage.

All of this leads me back to our Visgoth quote. Perhaps there are certain local customs best left alone, like French nude beaches and Chinese stinky tofu. Or maybe we've extrapolated out too far. Do as the Romans do, not the Edisonians.