The cloth known as plaid originated in Scotland as tartan and is renowned for its warmth and durability. It is woven from bold colors, but with subtle variations that draw out the individuality of each pattern. The same can be said of Madison Theatre Guild’s production of Forever Plaid, which wraps audience and performers alike in its fuzzy comfort.
Although the story feels like something that someone thought up but never thought through, it is merely a framework within which the actors can explore their joyful camaraderie. Four likely lads have formed a singing group, the Plaids, in the late 1950s. Their music (callously described by one of their fictitious reviewers as the musical equivalent of Formica) is an antidote to their tedious day jobs, but it is also their pride and passion. They play bar-mitzvahs and weddings, and they consider their appearance at the opening of a local Sears to be their personal Carnegie Hall.
But one fateful night in 1964, they are all killed when their car is struck by a bus carrying a group of schoolgirls on their way to see the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show. (“We were slammed by a bunch of parochial virgins,” wails one of the singers.) Through some bizarre twist, the quartet is allowed to return to earth to fulfill on the promise of their last performance before being whisked back into the ether. None of which has any real importance, because it’s the music, complete with deliberately cheesy choreography that makes Forever Plaid so delightful.
The admirably energetic cast (Dustin Keyes as Smudge, David Neuser as Sparky, Jeremy Sonkin as Frankie, and Drew Wolff as Jinx) cajoles and charms the audience with their bravura tight-harmony singing and their quirky characters. Backed by the superb musicianship of David Sytkowski (piano and musical director) and Ben Willis (string bass) the foursome swoon and croon through a smorgasbord of Fifties classics, interspersing the songs with comical glimpses of their personal peculiarities. (Smudge can never tell left from right, and Sparky makes shadow puppets when he should be concentrating on his back-up vocal.)
Along the way there is a hilarious reproduction of the entire history of the Ed Sullivan Show (“in three minutes and eleven seconds!”) and even some audience participation (one brave soul gets up onstage to play the corny piano part of "Heart and Soul"). But what really sticks in the memory is the sheer delight the four singers take in their music and in each other’s friendship.
On opening night, the audience was disappointingly sparse, which may have contributed to some of the mistiming and jitters that were sprinkled throughout the evening. The dialogue is flatly uninspiring compared to the lively musical interludes, and the noisy riser on which the show is staged is irritatingly distracting. This is, nevertheless, a fun production, and the hardworking performers deserve to draw bigger houses. Go and see them, and you’ll come away feeling plaid all over.
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