Laugh-Inducing 'It Runs in the Family' Defies Its Lineage

These two words usually keep me out of a theater: Ray Cooney. Cooney is an English typist who cranks out one feeble farce after another. These lamentable confections jumble together stick-figure characters to recite stale jokes and play out thinly stretched, formulaic situations. Think six-minute Carol Burnett sketches expanded to 2 1/4 hours. But without the laughs.

Well, Little Theatre of Alexandria has done what I thought impossible: made me enjoy a Cooney play, "It Runs in the Family." Unfortunately, it closes this weekend.

Attracted by the sound of screaming laughter at Little Theatre of Alexandria's prim theater near Old Town, I steeled myself to attend a performance. And there I found a talented cast working before a packed house, operating at breakneck pace and generating explosive audience responses from start to finish. Unbelievably, these adrenalized alchemists have turned Cooney's leaden script into comedy gold. I have seen this play . . . endured this play . . . previously, and counted the laughs on one hand. But something wonderfully wacky is taking place on this stage.

Director Roland Branford Gomez has combined speed and richly developed, immediately recognizable characterizations (not to be confused with "characters," as this is a Cooney play, after all) to create and sustain considerable momentum. His 13 actors uniformly project a profound sense that the oddballs they play take themselves quite seriously. Each cast member employs a full set of comic tics, facial expressions, linguistic emphasis, and, above all, an infectious sense of silliness. The actors find what works for each role and cling to it mightily. Silence is used occasionally to let a moment's ridiculous effect sink in or for characters to let just their eyes do their reacting for them. That takes guts, and it works.

Mark Lee Adams grounds the play, as an actor and as the character whose personal situation upsets life in a London hospital. Dr. David Mortimore is a pretentious neurologist who is about to deliver a major speech at an important medical conference. A knighthood might be in the offing, he thinks. But shortly before his scheduled appearance, his former nurse and lover (versatile Margaret Bush) shows up after "18 years and nine months" to tell him that their liaisons produced a son. Trying to hold both his career and his marriage together, and with his formidable wife (Rachel Hubbard) hovering about, Mortimore tumbles into a web of ever-expanding lies and outrageous acts of deception.

Adams is wonderful as a man desperately trying to salvage his rapidly shredding dignity as his ruses blow up all about him. His exacting timing and droll twisting of dialogue set the pace and tone for the cast. His work here is reminiscent of no less a comedy genius than John Cleese. Adams is ably aided by Jeffrey Clarke, as Mortimore's roly-poly accomplice, Dr. Hubert Bonney. Clarke's performance relies more on sight gags but is always effective.

Also of note in a small but devastatingly funny role is John Shackelford as a befuddled old man, a hospital patient who worms his way into the action. His wandering, vacant eyes and ability to survive being in a wheelchair that's constantly shoved through swinging doors produce bountiful laughs.

This production has one of the most vividly effective examples of controlled energy and tempo you might ever see. Act 1 ratchets up the energy level to frantic velocity until the action freezes in mid-scene for intermission. When Act 2 begins, the frozen scene resumes, with the cast perfectly matching the intensity it took more than an hour to build but doing it this time from a cold start.

You'll enjoy this. It's all here, as the old showbiz doggerel says: "a little song, a little dance, a little seltzer in the pants."

"It Runs in the Family" concludes this weekend at Little Theatre of Alexandria, 600 Wolfe St., Alexandria. Showtime today, tomorrow and Saturday is 8 p.m. For tickets or information, call the box office at 703-683-0496 or visit http://www.thelittletheatre.com.