Ah, those great sci-fi flicks of the 1950s. You know: The ones where aliens attack, or stealthily invade, planet Earth; where men become mutants; and where scientists observe strange events, then proclaim, "Mankind wasn't meant to tamper with Mother Nature!"
Chalk up "Earth Versus the Flying Saucers," "The Amazing Colossal Man," "Invaders From Mars" and "It Came From Outer Space" among these. Fittingly, at Costa Mesa Civic Playhouse, the pre-show entertainment for Michael Dale Brown's 2006 play "Earthlings Beware!" opens with a series of coming attractions film clips of these very films.
From there, writer-director Brown's script quickly takes us to the tiny town of Mercury, Nev., an area (we're told) used for testing of atomic power circa 1951.
Now 1952, we meet the various townsfolk, who include atomic scientists, bartenders, miners and a high-school science teacher named Bissell (homage to sci-fi actor Whit Bissell) who looks more like an Audubon society member than someone who's in secret contact with a sinister alien species hovering near earth.
It takes a few scenes, but once "Earthlings Beware!" gets revved up, it's a full-on, campy spoof of a prized genre of American film – a loving tribute as well as a mercilessly satire of '50s society and the movies that reflected it.
Tommy Morrow (Ed McBride) the nation's top A-bomb scientist, has turned batty from a top-secret test-site accident that isn't much of a secret in the town of Mercury. Tommy is snagged by aliens and begins to mutate, his left arm growing into a long, floppy green tentacle while he gradually begins to grow to the height of 100 feet.
By intermission, Tommy is like a demented, 50-foot-tall infant – bald, diapered and babbling incoherently – and his friend, handsome atomic scientist Pete Carlson (Nick Prelesnik), finds he must help determine the fate of Mercury and, perhaps, the planet and all of mankind. Along the way, we get plenty of hilariously ominous pronouncements about humankind's place in the vast universe and questions regarding "man's trespass into God's domain."
Generally, Brown's script, and this staging of it (the play's second overall), are good corny fun. Just like the actors in the films being spoofed, Brown's cast is almost deliberately Grade-Z. All have the wholesome, by-gosh naïveté of the Eisenhower Era that can be seen in '50s films of all genres, not just science-fiction.
Prelesnik is charmingly square-jawed and soberly heroic as Pete. Ron Grigsby's Professor Bissell has the comical looks and personality of a dweeby, innocuous little birdwatcher. McBride's Tommy is stupefyingly helpless and stupid, while Samantha Stedman, Travis Stolp and Heather Zavala are an endearingly earnest trio of young high-school students out to help solve the many recent mysteries and save the planet from destruction.
A standout is Laura Lindahl's Rachel, Pete's lady love. Lindahl plays two Rachels: The stock-character devoted girlfriend and the woman whose speech and mannerisms change suddenly – a transformation scarcely noticed at first by anyone.
Lindahl is in fine form as the "normal" Rachel, but really hits her stride as "Vultura," an alien commander who hijacks Rachel's body to "interface" with the human species. Using a cultured voice and, in the later scenes, dressed like a dominatrix, Lindahl, as Vultura, walks off with the show.
Blending video, miniatures, puppets and elaborate costumes, CMCP's staging is also a triumph of technical and artistic craftsmanship, including its set design (Brown and Jim Thoms), costume design and construction (Joyce Hutter and Claire Sharp), masks (Mickey Edinger), specialty art (Lori O'Keefe), lighting (Stephanie Thomas) and sound design (uncredited).
The many dramatic musical flourishes (by composer Roger Mexico) are a hoot, as are the black-and-white news broadcasts, and the technical effects – from Professor Bissell's alien radio transmitter-receiver to the alien spaceship's matter transmitter – are especially impressive. Taken as a whole, they prove that with the right effort, small troupes can spin pure theater magic.
Freelance writer Eric Marchese has covered entertainment for the Register since 1984.
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©2007 Costa Mesa Civic Playhouse
