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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

‘Humble Boy’ a self-assured romp

Energy emanated from the capacity audience prior to curtain time as the crowd waited to see Oscar- and multiple Emmy-winner Patty Duke.

Then, after the lights went down, energy poured from the stage in a dizzying and often hilarious whirlwind of comedy, drama and wild British satire called “Humble Boy,” by Charlotte Jones.

I’m still trying to piece together the various elements that make up this roller-coaster ride, expertly directed by Michael Weaver. It’s a British-garden comedy of manners; a wicked “Mommy Dearest” family drama; a treatise on entomology (bees are an important factor); a sly metaphor on “Hamlet,” complete with a Claudius; and a treatise on quantum physics.

As for that last subject, it goes straight over the heads of most of the characters, especially George Pye, the crude businessman who wants to marry Felix Humble’s recently widowed mother. George keeps asking Felix about his “astrology” studies.

“It’s not ‘astrology,’ ” sputters Felix, played brilliantly by Carter J. Davis. “It’s theoretical astrophysics.”

Yes, there’s a difference. Felix, a brilliant yet damaged young man who stutters uncontrollably and cannot get over the death of his father, occasionally talks about string theory and chaos theory. Meanwhile, the other characters are talking about cosmetic surgery, gardening and gazpacho recipes.

Duke plays the matriarch Flora Humble, a tough, cold specimen of motherhood who makes withering statements such as, “Quiet, you’ll wake up my 35-year-old.”

Duke was sometimes hesitant on her line readings, but there is no doubt that she is a master at commanding a stage. She ruled this Cotswold garden like a queen, issuing imperious commands to both friends and relatives.

“Mind my nose,” she snapped to Felix at one point. “I paid hundreds of dollars for it.”

She even turned her back on the audience and shimmied her hips. With her rich and uncommonly expressive voice, she brought exceptional bite to Flora’s casual cruelties.

Yet “Humble Boy” is no star vehicle. It’s an ensemble piece, with key roles for all six actors. In fact, the big show-stopping comic scene belonged to Therese Diekhans, who plays Mercy Lott, Flora’s best friend and doormat.

For most of the play, Mercy utters diffident lines such as, “Oh listen to me, twittering on.”

Yet when called upon to give a dinner blessing, she launches into a comic crescendo of a prayer that dredges up 30 years of repressed longing and repressed anger. It was like a thunderstorm erupted from a middle-aged Englishwoman in a frilly dress.

J.P. O’Shaughnessy as George, Jane May as Rosie and Patrick Treadway as Jim, the gardener, all contribute beautifully to this rich collection of comic themes. Treadway, in fact, figures significantly into the Hamlet-inspired ending.

Yet there is no question that Davis, as Felix, is at the center of this play. Felix has returned to the Cotswold home for the funeral of his father, who keeled over in the garden. Yet Felix couldn’t even bring himself to show up at the funeral. He is so upset that he seems almost autistic, obsessing over words and hugging his father’s honey pot full of ashes to his chest.

“He looks like Winnie the Pooh,” says Pye with disdain.

Yet Davis gives Felix a touching, utterly human poignancy – he’s a man whose main problem is feeling too deeply.

Weaver, besides assembling an outstanding cast, provides many effective directorial touches. “Flight of the Bumblebee” plays at appropriate moments; otherworldly, cosmic music punctuates scene changes. Weaver and playwright Jones are subtle with the Hamlet allusions and the Stoppard-like intellectual games. Weaver also plays the evening’s big surprise close to the vest; he never telegraphs it or overplays it.

The result is a must-see production, and not just because of Patty Duke. The buzz for this show emanates from all points on the stage.