The Mystery of Edwin Drood

Austin Playhouse, through June 26

Running Time: 2 hrs, 40 min

"Droo-oo-oo-duh!" The actors in this theatrical adaptation of Charles Dickens' final novel have a very specific way of pronouncing the titular character's surname, drawing out the vowels to spooky effect, like a moaning wind on a wintry night, then hitting the final consonant with the force of a dead body thudding against the street. And they teach this peculiar vocalization to those of us turned out to watch their performance so that we might join them in speaking that name "Drood" with an air of foreboding and dread.

Now, the mere fact that the performers drill the audience in the appropriately melodramatic pronunciation of "Drood" should be enough to persuade any sober scholars of Dickensian literature that this stage version is not their cup of Earl Grey. The title may be Dickens' and the plot may feature characters and events found in his book, but the play is considerably lighter in tone and more playful than the original. Indeed, it is a musical, and as crafted by Rupert Holmes – yes, the man responsible for "The Piña Colada Song," though you won't find anything quite so fruity and cloying here – The Mystery of Edwin Drood onstage has more to do with Victorian music hall entertainment, with rousing specialty numbers and low-comic repartee and audience participation (including hissing the villain), than it does the thwarted affections of choirmaster John Jasper for the virginal Rosa Bud and the possible murder of Rosa's betrothed, Edwin Drood. Holmes sets the story within the framework of a 19th-century theatrical troupe performing Dickens' sadly unfinished tale, with the chairman of the company introducing its various players, interspersing bits of personal commentary and company history throughout his narration of the plot, and instructing the audience in how to vote on those mysteries left unsolved by the author, to wit, the identities of the detective, Dick Datchery, and the killer of Mr. Droo-oo-oo--duh! Actors comment on their roles, hammily court the crowd, and trot out old gags that were hoary when Mr. Dickens was in Dr. Dentons. Star turns are made and theatrical egos erupt into view. It's all froth, but mightily engaging froth that speaks to a lot of what we love about theatre and about stories in general: the allure of make-believe, the spectacle, the romance, high drama and low comedy, the extremes of good and evil in opposition, reversals of fortune, happy endings, our emotional investment in the characters, and the intimacy we feel with them as their story unspools.

Of course, it's very easy to sit through The Mystery of Edwin Drood without ever thinking about the deeper layers of Holmes' adaptation. You tend to get swept along on its surface by its swift current of jokes and songs and playful solicitation of the audience's good will, especially when it's propelled, as it is at Austin Playhouse, by a spirited ensemble and host of seasoned players who can hit all the script's comedic and melodramatic marks. Tom Parker sets the pace and tone of the show as the Chairman, crisply serving up reams of florid period prose and firing off acerbic asides with droll authority. As the actor who plays the villainous John Jasper, Rick Roemer relishes the darkness of his character, wallowing in the choirmaster's wickedness and taking each "boo" from the house as a badge of honor. He towers menacingly over young Corley Pillsbury, who is the picture of the Victorian ingenue and boasts the voice of a nightingale. Jill Blackwood, as the troupe's "leading male impersonator," cuts a dashing figure as Drood in drag and makes a priceless exit when the character vanishes midway in the story and her services are no longer needed; hell hath no fury as a diva scorned. Michael Stuart, Brian Coughlin, Jacqui Cross, Huck Huckaby, and Amy Downing provide rich support in assorted dual roles. The Playhouse's small space doesn't give the 16-member cast much room to execute Carlos Ferreira's jaunty choreography, but it works to the company's favor in terms of intimacy, creating a cozy rapport with the players and their tale. Director Don Toner has crafted a show especially well-suited to the theatre he's built in South Austin, one that's homey and familiar and that draws its audience close with the promise of a good story and a good time. Here, they deliver on that promise.