Amanda Noar captures the essence of Charles M. Schulz’s characters with a blend of whimsy and depth
The whimsical charm of Charles M. Schulz’s comic strip lies in its juxtaposition of simplicity and complexity. Growing up with Snoopy, Charlie Brown, and his friends, I’ve become more empathetic towards the comic’s sophisticated side, while equally yearning for its simple portrayal of love, friendship, and kindness. The production of You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown at Upstairs at the Gatehouse, directed and choreographed by Amanda Noar, showcases such duality with remarkable effort. Featuring a raw, authentic comic-style set by Ruby Boswell-Green, complete with Snoopy’s red doghouse, Schroeder’s mini-sized piano, the gang’s yellow school bus, and even the original thinking bubble in the comic, this production brings a vibrant liveliness and expressive passion through a cast of six and a band of five. Despite lacking a real plot, it indeed tells the story of Charlie Brown and his friends.
Jordan Broatch slightly struggles to embody the title character’s clumsiness and shyness in the first half, resorting to constant grinning, squinting, and hand-rubbing, which turns out with more anxiety and neuroticism than self-doubt and insecurity (“The Kite”). However, this goes much better in the second half by exposing Charlie’s perseverance (“The Baseball Game”). Amanda Noar cleverly plays with the word “TEAM,” having the cast (excluding Charlie) creatively rearrange the letters to form words like “MEAT,” “MATE,” “TAME,” and “META.”
Comparing to the nervous Charlie, Oliver Sidney, as the world-famous white dog, steals the show with a sense of theatrical self-awareness. His portrayal of Snoopy is not just the confidant, imaginative daydreamer (“The Red Baron”), but also subtly cynical. Sidney excels in portraying Snoopy’s dual roles as both a part of the gang and a detached observer. Despite his showy, fantastical nature, Sidney’s Snoopy shares the same kindness as his awkward master. When it comes to supper, Sidney’s limbs are twitching uncontrollably on the roof of his doghouse from extreme hunger, but he still awaits Charlie patiently. When Charlie finally comes, he transforms his restlessness (and Snoopy’s day dream of swapping food bowl for water) into the most showy, theatrical piece (“Suppertime”) of the night.
In the comic, Lucy is arguably the most sophisticated and multifaceted character. Eleanor Fransch navigates Lucy’s bossiness, her clumsy pursuit of Schroeder’s affection, and her naive aspirations of royalty. Though jealous of Socrates as an imagined female, she started a survey by asking her friends whether she’s “crabby”. This survey usually conveys an exaggerated humour, but Fransch’s portrayal makes the survey a bit more serious by adding a sense of genuine self-reflexivity. Jacob Cornish’s Linus complements this with his patient, knowledgeable demeanour, unifying his childlike attachment to thumb-sucking and blanket-securing with intellectual maturity when he reassures Lucy that he loves his big sister.
The “Peanuts” comic strip largely avoids real romance but constantly recurs two crush themes, with which this production adopts distinct approaches. Lucy’s exaggerated, comical pursuit of Shroeder, the avid pianist/Beethoven fanboy, manoeuvred by Troy Yip, contrasts with his delicacy, unresponsiveness and evasion. Yip’s peaks in the “Glee Club Rehearsal,” where he demonstrates a powerful burst of energy, becoming bossier even than Lucy, overshadowing the constant bickering of the Van Pelt siblings who are preoccupied with a pencil. Conversely, Sally’s (Millie Robins) subtle crush on Linus is barely hinted, a detail easily missed by those unfamiliar with the comic. However, Millie Robins’ portrayal of a bookish, soprano-voiced Sally, always in search of new philosophies, ensures her character shines.
Blending character and plot simplicity with theatrical richness, this production playing Upstairs at the Gatehouse, is definitely not a production that brings the comic strips right in front of your eyes, like many of contemporary manga-anime musicals do; instead, it is a production in which you will definitely feel “they are right here” from the bottom of your heart.
Review by Ke Meng