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The Honolulu Advertiser
Posted on: Wednesday, May 22, 2002

STAGE REVIEW
'Fully Committed' fully satisfies audiences

By Joseph T. Rozmiarek
Advertiser Drama Critic

"Fully Committed" invites us into the basement world of a "reservationist" for a swanky New York restaurant where tables are booked three months in advance.

'Fully Committed'

• 8 p.m. tomorrow-Saturday, May 28-31 and June 4; 4 p.m. Sunday

• The ARTS at Marks Garage

• $15, Indigo dinner packages available; 521-9699

Sam is a nice-guy, a struggling actor with a need to pay the bills. This means he's at the lowest rung of the restaurant hierarchy and on the front line for all the outrageous demands made by diners who insist on breaking into the queue. It's Sam's job to satisfy everyone, while explaining that a full-up dining room is, unfortunately, "fully committed."

In these days of shrinking staffs and voicemail, who can't identify with the harried clerk who bears the brunt of public contact for any organization? And does anyone remember to be polite after holding and clicking through multiple menu options?

Sam holds down the fort for the 80 minutes of this one-man, one-act comedy like a guy bunkered down in an underground operations shelter while all hell is breaking loose on the surface. The play's dramatic question becomes how much he's willing to take and what he will do when he's finally had enough.

The play by Becky Mode, who obviously has been a restaurant worker as well as a playwright, has received positive off-Broadway reviews and is presented in downtown Honolulu by Tim Bostock at The ARTS at Marks Garage. Scott Rogers directs Greg Howell and Andrew Meader, who perform on alternate nights.

Michael Waters does good work in defining the amorphous space with an appropriately cramped, elevated stage. Cathie Anderson's lighting and Jason Taglianetti's sound are vital production elements, helping to define and separate the multiple voices in the play. Red light emphasizes a call on the chef's hotline, while a cool blue distinguishes the dining room hostess. Rings, beeps and buzzes punctuate the dialogue right on cue like avenging insects.

But the focus ultimately is on the actor and in the performance I saw, Meader admirably holds the spotlight.

Think of 30 voices, alternating in quick succession. Think of comedian Robin Williams performing an inspired improvisational routine. Think of any ventriloquist who ever graced the old Ed Sullivan Show with multiple wooden dummies.

Meader maintains clarity among the multiple accents without slipping into schizophrenia.

Inside the restaurant, there's the growly Chef Claude, British Stephanie, an imperious French maitre'd and a range of third-world voices among the kitchen help. Callers include the brazen newly rich, the cultured old line and the prissy or abrupt handlers for people too preoccupied to make their own arrangements.

Surprisingly, Sam somehow finds time for a disappointing telephonic personal life. His acting agency labels him with an "unworthy" persona, his newly widowed father patiently reminds him of Christmas dinner and there are no calls from his dating service.

The crisis peaks when a fellow reservationist doesn't show up for his shift, the Chef demands that Sam clean up the mess in the women's toilet and a possible mafia tycoon insists someone sing "The Lady is a Tramp" at his table.

Audiences love to root for a central character who perseveres against a sea of troubles, hoping that he won't admit failure by simply quitting and that he will find a way to personally fully commit to himself.

While the unusual context and the technical gimmickry initially hold our attention, it's the character progress in "Fully Committed" that ultimately makes this production fully satisfying.


Correction: A sentence was garbled in a previous version of this review. It should have read: The crisis peaks when a fellow reservationist doesn't show up for his shift, the Chef demands that Sam clean up the mess in the women's toilet and a possible mafia tycoon insists someone sing "The Lady is a Tramp" at his table.