‘TIL BETH DO US PART
On a day of ferocious wind which essentially closed the Mackinac Bridge, Homegrown Productions forged ahead to present the Jones-Hope-Wooten comedy “’Til Beth Do Us Part” in the now-elegant Wilson Center in St.Johns.
Said weather undoubtedly kept many potential attendees of this final performance inside, but at least there were more people in the audience than there were onstage, and those hardy, lucky souls were present to enjoy director Tom Webb’s spirited interpretation of what, in the writing, is perhaps one of the lesser efforts in the JHW canon which has become a staple of community theaters everywhere.
The somewhat static setup posits that aspiring Cincinnati candy-company executive Suzannah (Susan DeRosa) has become too busy to properly look after her TV-weatherman husband Gibby (Darryl Schmitz) so their recently-divorced neighbor Margo (Beth Webb) recruits “life assistant” Beth (Marci Balogh) to help Suzannah with household and professional duties. This soon works better than expected and quickly morphs into intrigue which involves Margo’s ex Hank (Bob Murrell) and the visiting London candy-company owner Celia (Jan Ross).
As noted, the accomplished cast performed the script well, blithely skipping through the sometimes-illogical plot twists which occur within a single line or two; Balogh was particularly good as the all-too-perfect Beth, while Schmitz pulled off his many sight gags with a sadsack straight face. The excellent set was comfortably realistic. And everything came together for the well-done madcap final scene, with slamming doors, double identities and just desserts.
One big question remains: since no costumer is credited, who was it that managed to find two versions of the same dress, that would fit both Bob Murrell and Jan Ross?
Advance publicity noted this one-weekend-only presentation’s status as a fundraiser to benefit the Center’s lighting system so it deserved to attract a larger audience, at least on Sunday. And for the future, do remember that when you attend an event at Wilson Center, before the show you can always read the seats.
T.E. Klunzinger