opening-weekend review of *The Foreigner*

at Spokane Civic Theatre through April 20

What would we be like if only we could really let ourselves go? What secrets do other people harbor? What if we were really popular?

Larry Shue's 1983 farce with a heart, *The Foreigner,* combines the appeal of these questions with slapstick and verbal humor to create a perennial comedy. While Shue's play suffers from too much exposition and from hammering its moral of self-discovery too hard, it's receiving a Spokane Civic Theatre production (through April 20) that's diverting, sometimes dull, but mostly entertaining.

It's a fish-out-of-water story in which the fish decides to try things out up on dry land for a while. A shy Brit finds himself in a backwoods Georgia hunting lodge pretending that he speaks no English. (Discovering why he decides to do so - and how he maintains the ruse and then transforms and freshens it -- is most of the fun that Shue's having.)

This is a strong ensemble in which nearly all the actors are effective nearly all the time. As a slick preacher with a dark side, Jaylan Renz combines an ability to talk his way out of any sticky situation with the slithering movements of a snake oil salesman. As an ex-debutante, Kari Severns channels Jean Smart in *Designing Women,* alternating between comic consternation and vulnerability. Andrew Biviano gets beyond the Southern-dimwit-hick-with-a-heart stereotype, finding his way in Shue's script to justifiable resentment at others' condescension and some salt-of-the-earth cleverness. And even if it's a throwback, Troy Heppner's characterization of "Froggy" LeSueur -- British military, stiff upper lip but mischievous -- is amusing for the way Heppner pulls off comic slow burns of consternation and then rebounds with cleverness and good cheer.

As the heavy, Will Gilman is effective at throwing his weight around and voicing repulsive attitudes, though he needs to erase that bemused expression when his Owen Musser character becomes the butt of other people's jokes. As the little old lady who runs the hunting lodge (and has apparently never been outside it, so enthralled is she with the prospect of a real, live foreigner), however, Kathie Doyle-Lipe overdoes the *Hee-Haw* mannerisms. Betty's various enthusiasms don't need so much head-waggling.

In the title role, Joe Vander Weil is delightful in displaying the giddiness of a reticent man finally figuring out this business of "acquiring a personality." He should work on the setup, however: Despite the bowtie and conservative duds, Vander Weil is never really convincing as a man so consumed with shyness and low self-esteem that he'd agree to put himself in the position of eavesdropper and freak. And some of Charlie's second-act newfound fluency in English seems too polished. But Vander Weil's expressive face, gangly dancing and histrionic babbling in a made-up language create several laugh-out-loud, affecting sequences. Charlie has such good (if unexpressed) emotions that we're rooting for him, and Vander Weil's confused, reticent expressions over on the sidelines (when he's compelled into silent-eavesdropper mode) are a joy to watch. While he stepped on about three laugh lines during the first act on Saturday night, Vander Weil and the cast will learn over the course of the run where the chortles reliably come, making that problem likely go away.

Director Wes Dietrick's casting and the costumes of Susan Berger and Jan Wanless make for comic contrasts: military khakis vs. Argyle sweaters, dingy overalls vs. tweed jackets, early '80s neon-print dresses with big shoulders vs. Grandma's floor-length wool skirts; fat/skinny, tall/short, Mutt/Jeff. Dietrick keeps traffic moving generally well, though in a couple of sequences (gather 'round for storytelling, hide in the dark cowering as the bad guys advance) in which groupings were arrived at by rote, too automatically.

Shue created a well-made play, so pay attention to the professions, props and personalities introduced in the early going, because they're sure to pop back up again. There are several very funny sequences involving pink plastic cups, foreign-language instruction and an allusion to the melting of the Wicked Witch in *Oz.*

Shue's farce, moreover isn't divorced from reality. With personal sadness and racist greed co-existing alongside silly improvised dancing, *The Foreigner* shows us ugliness and shows us joy. Dietrick's production allows all of that room for expression. It may be overlong for comedy and it may miss some of its laugh lines while straining too hard to underscore others, but the Civic's *Foreigner* is amusing and even hilarious often enough to remind playgoers of why Shue's farce has become a staple of American playhouses in the last quarter-century.