Long before it was co-opted for the comic stage fantasia that’s
delighted audiences in London, New York, and—starting last
weekend—Seattle, John Buchan’s espionage-adventure novel The
39 Steps had been well plundered by the world of cinema. Buchan’s
twisty tale has fueled three major films, the most acclaimed and iconic
of which arrived in 1935, when Alfred Hitchcock released his
love-interest-enhanced The 39 Steps and solidified his
burgeoning reputation as a master of suspense. Starring the
prototypically dashing Robert Donat, Hitchcock’s 39 Steps wove
an intoxicating web of mistaken identity, international espionage, and
murder, creating a classic of the
innocent-man-forced-to-prove-his-innocence genre.
But not until the 21st century did The 39 Steps become a
comedy, thanks primarily to Patrick Barlow, the acclaimed British
comedian who combined Buchan’s original novel, Hitchcock’s classic
film, and “an original concept by Simon Corble and Nobby Dimon” to
create a comic romp that found four actors doing their damnedest to
re-create The 39 Steps in full. Cast members play dozens of
characters in quick succession, set pieces appear and vanish in an
instant, and cinematic action sequences are re-created in a variety of
ingeniously low-tech/high-impact ways. As the New York Times‘
Ben Brantley wrote of the show’s hit run on Broadway: “This 39
Steps isn’t using its source material as a satiric target but as an
accomplice” to “celebrate the art of instant illusion-making that is
theater.”
Now Barlow’s Hitchcock-flavored folly is venturing further into the
world, while keeping a tight connection to home base. Like the London
and New York productions, the Seattle Rep’s The 39 Steps is
directed by Maria Aitken, with set and costume design by Peter
McKintosh, lighting design by Kevin Adams, and sound design by Mic
Pool. The new components are the actors, those charged with bringing
this intricately designed-and-choreographed fun house to life.
At Seattle Rep, the four-member cast includes one actor reprising
her role(s) from the Broadway run and three actors tackling The 39
Steps for the first time. In the lead: Ted Deasy, a seasoned
theater and soap-opera actor who imbues the play’s accidental
protagonist with a canny balance of retro-leading-manhood and
mock-retro-leading-manhood. Deasy’s also the only cast member with a
single role, and with his mustachioed handsomeness and split-level
performance—he’s playing both Richard Hannay and the actor
playing Richard Hannay—he provides an effective center for the
hurricane of silliness around him. (Not so effective: Deasy’s British
accent, which remained under-construction on opening weekend.)
Meanwhile, the cast’s three remaining members devote themselves
wholeheartedly to keeping the show rollicking along. Things start off
with a bang, literally and figuratively, with the cast twirling around
their trick-wired theatrical playground with impressive
ease—instantaneously assembling and dismantling makeshift
scenarios (a crowded music hall, a spooky street corner, the roof of a
runaway train) and switching characters like psychos. Best in show:
Claire Brownell, the Broadway import and the cast’s sole female, who
nails each of her handful of roles—from femme fatale to farm wife
to Official Love Interest—with wit and intelligence.
The first act of The 39 Steps rolls out like a well-oiled
carnival ride, but things get bumpier in act 2. Some of this is
script-related, with the increasing ramshackleness of the cast’s
theatrical inventions addressed explicitly by characters in the script.
But a different sort of messiness makes its way into the performances,
especially that of supporting actor Scott Parkinson, who along with the
hardworking Eric Hissom, plays the vast majority of the show’s
characters, a seemingly endless parade of diabolical British villains,
cockney doormen, angry Scotsmen, et al. It’s a Herculean task, and
perhaps it’s inevitable that the actors will veer into broad territory,
but by the middle of act 2, I was ready to spank Mr. Parkinson, a
Shakespeare veteran whose 39 Steps performance grew ever more
grotesque, with his Mike Myers–sized shenanigans regularly
disrupting the snowballing thrills of the plot clicking into place.
Still, there’s no denying the rush of act 1, when the casual
facility of the whole cast dazzles, and it’s likely that act 2 will
only grow stronger and sharper as the cast acclimates to this
full-sprint marathon of a show. There’s nothing deep at work in The
39 Steps—the main point is “Look what we can do!”—but
even in an imperfect production, this well-constructed show is a campy
rush, laced with rare, only-in-the-theater moments. And no, you don’t
need to have seen the film. 
