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...locals cannot afford to fix the dike, and so far they have been unable to get state or federal aid. Finally, in exasperation at bureaucracy, Jack Zuelke, the owner of a Three Forks inn with six feet of water in its basement, dispatched a telegram to the Soviet embassy in Washington: "The people of the Three Forks area, having been ignored by all state and federal agencies, do hereby appeal to the people and government of the U.S.S.R. for foreign aid to alleviate present flood conditions...
...Hasty Pudding Theatricals were somehow degenerate affairs, full of preppies done up in drag and nasty jokes about women and only the merest appearance of theater. I mean that's what I'd always been told. So, where is the raunchiness of yesteryear? This year's show, The Wrongway Inn by name and the Pudding's 124th production, may be set in a whorehouse on the eve of the Revolutionary War but deep down inside it's as red, white and blue as a slice of American...
...sorts. Will the English land secret shipment of snuff on Rhett O'Ricks dock? Will Rhett stay sober enough to that Miss Glory Morning can marry him? Will Johnny Profane remain true to Chaste DeBluesaway despite her miniscule breasts? Or will her father the Mayor foreclose the Wrongway Inn instead? Not quite the ideological origins of the American Revolution, to be sure...
...that I expect the show to get any rave notices around the Dunster House women's table. The Wrongway Inn never abandons the stock in trade of Pudding tradition--the puns, the double-entendres, and the female ingenue who goes around complaining that her "boobalas" aren't big enough. But it does do its best to downplay the leers. But it spectacle owes more to Gilbert and Sullivan, Yankee Doodle Dandy and 1776 than you might be prepared to expect...
WINSOME, The Wrongway Inn is not. Although the show is a bit too long episodic, director-choreographer Voight Kempson has injected a good deal of energy and brought off some splendid dance routines. The second-act kickline ("The Don't Tread-on-Me-Blues"--composer Stephen Sondheim seem's to have been the evening's guiding light) is a harlequin-outfitted Busby Berkely spectacular which has nothing at all to do with the plot and is probably all the better for it. As proper compliment to the direction, Franco Colavecchia has done a swell job of set design--his complicated...