The Santaland Diaries

The Santaland Diaries: Laughing All The Way

Zachary Scott Theatre Center

Whisenhunt Arena Stage,

through January 7

Running Time: 1 hr, 25 min

To say that this Zachary Scott Theatre Center production directed by Dave Steakley is about as good as theatre gets would sum up most of my feelings, but I would hope that you would be intrigued and want to know more. Steakley has taken writings by David Sedaris, adapted for the stage by Joe Mantello, and combined them with tastefully risqué Christmas songs. The show begins with two of these, "Santa Baby" and "Making Love Alone." Meredith McCall nails each, adroitly accompanied by John Howrey, while luxuriating on a grand piano in classic vamp style, wrapped (and unwrapped) in a lengthy red and black feather boa. She is surrounded by little islands of Christmas: two-foot-tall red and white lollipops, three-foot-tall snowmen wrapped in red-and- black plaid scarves, all quaintly arranged on white beds of snow, with delicious Christmas cookies covering the painted floor of the Whisenhunt Arena Stage. McCall's singing is more than slightly suggestive (at one point she drinks a martini -- with two olives), but if the audience didn't know what was coming, by the time she finishes these songs they certainly know that this is not your mother's Christmas show.

And it's definitely not. The majority of the evening consists of two stories, "Dinah" and "The Santaland Diaries," told by Martin Burke as -- well, Martin Burke. The first is about how Martin gained a new respect for his sister and, in a roundabout way, learned about the real meaning of Christmas. The meaning revealed in the first story is more clearly elucidated in the second, in which Burke gets a job as an elf at Macy's Santaland, green costume, jingle bells, pointed shoes, and all. In both stories, Burke runs the gamut from high hilarity to absolute panic to striking observation to calm elucidation. At times he's so intense that you think he might pop, but these moments come so naturally that you think you might pop right along with him. He's no ordinary elf, but an obscenely observant one, not averse to sizing up everyone he encounters with his eyes wide open. He's not insulting, just morally outraged by the Christmas hypocrisy he encounters at every turn. The term "professional" is often applied far too loosely, but professional is exactly the performance Burke gives, in the best sense of the word. He owns the stage. The audience follows him, laughing all the way, everywhere he goes, because Burke understands how to tell a story and does so as well as an actor can, not once but twice.

I have always been a big Christmas fan, but I can't say that I've always really understood what it was about. Having children did it for me, and rarely have I seen what I believe the real meaning of Christmas is so clearly and naturally elucidated, and with only the barest trace of sentiment. In the lobby afterward, a woman standing near me said, "Such energy for an hour and a half. Amazing!" I couldn't have said it better myself.