STAGE REVIEW
HTY's 'Runny Noses, Tiny Tails' runs short on substance

By Joseph T. Rozmiarek
Advertiser Drama Critic

•	'Runny Noses, Tiny Tails' 4:30 and 6:30 pm, Saturday and May 4, 11, 18 McCoy Pavilion, Ala Moana Park $10, $7.50, $5; 839-9885

Unlike "Cinderella," the show is all dressed up, but doesn't go anywhere. And through it all, we are tempted to blurt out that "The Emperor Has No Clothes."

One senses that Kurt Wurmli and Joseph Dodd knocked themselves out designing colorful and inventive sets, costumes and props; and that director Harry Wong III and his cast of four (Monica Cho, Nara Springer, Shen Sugai, and Hermen Tesoro, Jr.) worked themselves into a frazzle to enliven the dialogue. But despite the pumping up, none of the playlets has enough substance to warrant all the production effort.

Indeed, the most interesting part of the staging is watching the company change costumes between stories. Wong sets up the gimmick by sending them out into the audience carrying suitcases and dressed in black suits and derby hats — looking a great deal like turn-of-the-century, door-to-door salesmen.

The production's order of presentation is determined when someone in the audience pulls a title out of a hat, setting the actors into a manic frenzy to get into the right costumes. After that, the excitement wanes.

Susan Lee St. John's "No Tigers in Borneo" is drawn from a Malaysian story of how some small animals outwit a fierce tiger. Its primary interest comes from exaggerated costume pieces and abstract shield designs that represent each animal's spirit.

Dance Aoki's "Runny Nose Boy" comes from a Japanese folktale of a young man who can grant wishes by sneezing. Attempting to produce an embroidered silk futon finally clears his sinuses.

Sean T. C. O'Malley's "The Frog Dance" transports a Northwest native American tale to a Hawaiian setting, where an annoying younger brother disrupts his sister's dance rehearsal by turning it into a version of combat hula.

Lastly, Daniel Kelin's "Da Bugga Like Eat" pits a cockroach against a turtle in an endless prattle over food, culminating in a bit of water-splashing in a tin trough — a design expense in no way justified by its importance to the piece.

One wonders how four playwrights can have so uniformly failed to produce a single script that establishes character and generates compelling action. Each plays like a batter warming up. There's a great deal of swinging through the air, puffed up posturing, and a promise of a great showing. But each heads back to the dugout without approaching the plate.

Unless you're a fan of imaginative stage design, you can safely skip this production.

Your kids might even thank you for it.

Joseph T. Rozmiarek is The Advertiser's drama critic.