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Saturday, October 11, 2003 'Ming' is a goofy, tuneful remnant of the 1960s By JOE ADCOCK SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER THEATER CRITIC According to some ethical systems, harmlessness is the highest virtue. By that standard "Ming the Rude," a new show receiving its premiere production at Empty Space Theatre, is highly virtuous. "Ming" is one innocent joke after another, one goofy song after another. The performances are bouncy, perky distillations of early 1960s comedy styles. Imagine Dick Van Dyke or Carol Burnett high on Royal Crown Cola spiked with aspirin. Costumes (Melanie Burgess) and setting (Jenny Anderson) hybridize Archie/Jughead with Buck Rogers/Flash Gordon. The story is a tribute to, and a spoof of, the way we were. Or the way we thought we were. Or the way we wished we were. Or the way we were glad we weren't. The title character, played by Troy Fischnaller, is the crown prince of the Kingdom of Courtesy. Though clumsy, Larry Ming is tidy and polite. Just as he is about to ascend to the throne, however, he is hit by a rude ray. That turns him into something like those sixth-grade boys who were said to have cooties, the ones who made jokes about flatulence. Fischnaller is unstintingly conscientious in his portrayal of a braying pre-adolescent cootie kid. Tidy or untidy, he is energetically funny. As Ming's mother, Sarah Rudinoff combines the flakiness of Lucille Ball with the sexual aggression of Eva Peron. To save her son, mother Ming uses her wiles on Sir Pendulous Dewlaps, master of the rude ray. Kevin C. Loomis, as Dewlaps, passionately lusts for power as he worships evil. Though scrupulously unscrupulous, Dewlaps proves to be no match for Lt. Betty Doris, an unstoppable cop. A low-budget, high-tech rocket ship battle between good and evil is sensational. But this is not cartoon noir. High-octane courtesy must prevail. Lt. Betty is played with dazzling radiance by Nicole Boote. Betty has one flaw: She is a snob. Love cures her of that. Who should she fall for but Eddie, a mere Minion. The Minions, born to servitude, are only about 3 feet tall. Actors in these roles scurry about on their hands and knees. As Eddie, Bob Borwick is irresistibly plucky. Indeed, the dozen cast members are all big on pluck. The "Ming" songs, though some of them would benefit from another week of rehearsals, are amazingly varied. Doo-wop, surfer, metal, Latino, swing and Broadway blockbuster are among the styles mastered by composer John Engerman. "Ming" is a gaudy, late-blooming wildflower grown from seeds planted some 25 years ago. In those days, Seattle theaters produced amusingly dopey farces in parks. "Ming," as directed by Lori Larsen, is true to type. It is an amusingly dopey farce.
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