Dec. 01--Beloved as it is, "Waiting for Guffman" didn't even crack $3 million at the box office when it came out in 1997. The comedy is probably best watched on the small screen anyway, where you can rewind the funniest moments into oblivion. Among Christopher Guest's mockumentaries, his wholesome-snarky parody of self-serious, small town community theater is one of my favorites.
It's been a while since I last saw the film but watching "Red, White Blaine" (created and directed by Jeff Griggs) at iO -- which is basically a performance of the musical within the movie, celebrating the town of Blaine, Mo., -- a few observations came to mind.
Here's a biggie: So much of the film's appeal is watching well-known actors playing extravagantly bad amateur performers. That in-joke just can not exist with a cast comprised of local improvisers.
The gang might have chops, but there's no way to know. Forget character development -- the characters they're playing (the Eugene Levy role, the Catherine O'Hara role, Parker Posey role, etc.) aren't even established. I found myself trying to recall the three-dimensional personalities from the film in order to fill in the blanks. It's a bad sign when flesh-and-blood humans on stage aren't enough.
There's a trick to being awful without looking like you're trying to be awful. That's harder than you think. And the show still needs its own comedic interpretation of the source material, otherwise it plays too much like some kind of weird theater karaoke. I'm not sure any of it will make sense for those unfamiliar with the material.
What I did like was the way the show really milks the line "I hate you and I hate your (expletive) face!" And I can't recall if this was part of the film, but there's a terrific bit of lyrical massaging that has Missouri pronounced as "misery." There's a nice rejiggering of the end, including a song that brings various townspeople on stage (the mayor, the dentist's wife) to sing a wonderfully plaintive song that wonders: Why couldn't I have been part of the show? It feels like a real comedic insight and suddenly (belatedly) offers a point-of-view on the whole thing.
2 STARS
In an open run at iO Theater, 1501 N Kingsbury Ave.; tickets are $14 at 312-929-2401 or ioimprov.com/chicago
