The British Players’ One Man, Two Guvnors is a cracking slapstick farce with just enough intellectual pedigree to satisfy the brain as well as the funny bone.
The play by Richard Bean is an English adaptation of The Servant of Two Masters (Il servitore di due padroni), a 1743 comedy by the Italian playwright Carlo Goldoni. It opened at the National Theatre of Great Britain in 2011 and transferred to the West End and then Broadway (earning a Tony award and international recognition for its lead, James Corden).
Set in Brighton, England, in 1963, it has all the classic hallmarks of farce — slamming doors, pratfalls, trousers around ankles, jokes about buxom young ladies, confusion about twins, fabricated friends used as excuses, and a very dumb blonde. But it also relies on its historical origins, with a mix of improvisation and scripted text, and stock characters from commedia such as the Wily Servant, the Sassy Maid, the Pompous Master, the Know-It-All, and the Lovers. Frequently, the characters break the fourth wall, turning to the audience to ad-lib, make jokes, ask questions, and explain the commedia dell’arte style, its structure, and their particular parts in it. There is also a great deal of tongue-twisting wordplay and a speech that debunks 500 years of theatrical fancy about fraternal vs. identical twins.
For the British Players, which is known for producing a “panto” (traditional British Christmas pantomime) every year, this is all stock-in-trade, and they handle it expertly — and it is clearly a complex endeavor, from the size of the creative staff required to bring it to life. Director Chrish Kresge keeps the pace cracking and all the theatrical spinning plates and juggling balls in the air. Intimacy Choreographer Helen Aberger has her hands full handling several comically dramatic clinches. Fight Choreographer Casey Kaleba manages the lighthearted violence — including a famous bit where the lead character has a knockdown-dragout fight with … himself.
The costumes by Patricia Kratzer expertly evoke early-Beatles-era Brighton, with pencil skirts and sweater twinsets accenting actresses’ assets and mile-high beehive hair (wigs by McKenna Kelley). Setting the scene, locales are presented through projections (designed by Matt Mills) on a fabric screen at the back of the stage — at one point, when the fabric happened to wave behind a projection of a seashore, it almost looked animated. Although probably accidental, it was very effective. Dave Means’ set, with technical design by Mike Lewis, is extremely elaborate, switching from the inside of a flat to different outdoor locales, including a quite beautiful bridge. Unfortunately, this leads to extremely long set changes, despite being set to spritely sixties music from the original production (sound design by Sarah Katz) — to the point where on opening night the audience began laughing at the struggles of the valiant stage crew. At least the punters applauded them at the end, but here’s hoping the pace picks up during the run.
Accent Coaches Pauline Griller-Mitchell and Chrish Kresge deftly fine-tune a number of varied British accents — although in the first scene of the play, the mixed accents, introductions of all the characters, scene-setting, and exposition all become slightly overwhelming for the audience. When the characters start to get stage time on their own, though, the play takes off into clear, clever comic mayhem.
And what characters they are. Simply because the play depends so heavily on the leading man and principals, several experienced actors are lamentably underused but still make the most of their parts. Bob Singer perseveres as pub-owner Lloyd, with an indeterminate accent. John Allnutt carries on yeomanlike as Gareth, the straight man in a duo of disastrous waiters. John Geoffrion expertly spouts off the Latinate gibberish required of the lawyer Harry Dangle, the classic Il Dottore (know-it-all) part.
The featured actors are even stronger. Chloe McGinness and Richard Jacobson are delightful as the comic lovers: Pauline, the intellectually underendowed blonde, and Alan, the overwhelmingly hammy actor. Pauline’s repeated “I don’t understand” and Alan’s bizarre, over-the-top metaphors are highlights. Roger Stone, as Charlie Clench, the mobster trying to marry off his daughter, manages to be menacing, obsequious, and funny all at once and tickles some mean keyboard at the end.
Jenn Robinson sizzles as the sexy, smart bookkeeper Dolly, based on the commedia role of the saucy maid. Her looks, accent, mannerisms, and delivery all captivate, whether she is enticing the leading man or delivering her spicy opinions to the women in the audience. Robinson’s craft is such that her character is clear even during scene changes, when she is silhouetted against the backdrop, merely putting an iron down with a flick of her wrist, or draped gracefully up against a door waiting for the lights to come up.
Steven Malone’s performance as Alfie, the doddering 87-year-old waiter, is worth the ticket price in itself. His mastery of the slapstick required of the role is marvelous. Laughing at someone having trouble with his pacemaker and falling down stairs might be uncomfortable if mishandled, but Malone manages to mix such dignity in with the decrepitude that it becomes clear we’re laughing not at him, but with him. His every appearance is a delight.
Sean Byrne shines as Stanley Stubbers, the certified upper-class twit. His portrayal is smarmy and slightly twisted, yet charming and attractive enough to be convincing as one of the main pair of lovers. As his love, Rachel Crabbe, Aparna Sri is a revelation. Known for playing more feminine parts, she spends much of the show swaggering around in a gangster’s suit and fedora, commanding the stage and everyone on it through sheer bravado. She sinks her teeth into the gender-bending range of emotion of the character and makes it delightfully funny.
And as Francis Henshall (the part that made James Corden a star), Alan Gonzalez Bisnes carries the weight of the entire show on his shoulders and makes it look easy. His command of some of the toughest slapstick in modern theater is remarkable, and his handling of improv, asides to the audience, manic exhaustion, and disquisitions on the nature of commedia are equally deft. His constant refrain of “I’m going to have to be very careful what I say here…” gets funnier each time he says it. As good as everyone else is, his performance is the capstone that holds the whole structure up. He puts in a tour de force performance, seemingly almost without breaking a sweat.
There are a few caveats the audience should know. One is that this show is very rooted in the attitudes and humor of the sixties, especially toward women. But since it actually dates from the 21st century, all of it is presented with a heaping helping of irony. There is also audience participation, in the grand tradition of panto. It is very funny to watch, but if you don’t want to be caught up in it, make sure your seats are not in the first few rows.
The British Players’ One Man, Two Guvnors serves up a feast of rib-tickling farce, slapstick, wordplay, and improv, with just enough sauce of wit, literature, and history to stimulate the nerd in all of us.
So come see One Man, Two Guvnors, laugh a lot, think a little, and go home happy.
Running Time: Approximately two hours and 30 minutes, including intermission.
One Man, Two Guvnors plays through March 29, 2025 (Fridays at 8:00 pm, Saturdays at 7:30 pm, and Saturdays and Sundays at 2:00 pm), presented by the British Players performing at Kensington Town Hall, 3710 Mitchell St, Kensington, MD. Purchase tickets ($28, group discounts available) at the door, online, or by email to boxoffice@britishplayers.org.
Not suitable for children under 12.
COVID Safety: Masks are optional.
