Playwright: music & lyrics by Mark Nutter, book by Dave Lewman, Joe Liss, Mark Nutter, and John Rubano
At: Lakeshore Theater, 3175 N. Broadway
Phone: (773) 472-3492; $20
Runs through: Sept. 28
Francophobia might have distracted us for a few weeks from Arab-bashing—bigots are equal-opportunity misanthropes, if nothing else—but Le Comedie Du Bicyclette isn't just a facile tandem-ride on a dated grump-of-the-month. The target of its satire is not a nation, but the popular images that give those of us whom France have never come a-near our notions, deluded or otherwise, of that county and its denizens.
The scenario begins with a young American on a solitary bicycle tour. A vehicular malfunction forces him to seek a repair shop in a remote village. An array of eccentric experiences and personalities follow as the callow Yankee languishes in Gallic culture awaiting restoration of his mobility: He views a centuries-old puppet show, whose dialogue mysteriously reflects his own confusion—chiefly the existential question of whether baguettes are purchased in a patisserie or a boulangerie. He spends the night at the Youth Hostel in a room shared by a wayfarer who sings himself to sleep with Japanese folk-songs. He participates in an amateur talent competition, the prize for which is—what else?—a new bicycle. Gradually, he becomes aware, through ghostly aural manifestations, of L'Homme Du Bicyclette—a local deity whom one would do well not to anger.
The humor is broad, juvenile, frequently scatological, and—even at a running time a mere soupçon over an hour—could wear very thin very quickly. But what redeems characters with names such as Marcel Mignon, Offal, Rene Dupar (whose act for the talent contest reminds us that Joseph Pujol, notorious on the vaudeville circuit as Le Petomaine, was a Frenchman), Britisher Chester Manchester, Hollander Rem Van Opdorp and fellow Amurrricans Austin Houston and Port Gibson, are Mark Nutter's parodic ditties mocking sources ranging from Michel Legrand and Monty Python to Gay Old Broadway.
The Bicycle Men ensemble—Dave Lewman, Joe Liss, John Rubano (who does a nice Frank Gorshin as the lock-jawed Manchester) and the aforementioned Nutter—deliver performances sufficiently slick to render this touring show's return engagement amusing, if decidedly lightweight. Come to think of it, isn't soufflé also a French invention?