Sir Walter Scott famously wrote, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.”
Oh, Walt, too bad you coined that maxim 500 years ago and never got to see the farce “Don’t Dress for Dinner” at Laguna Playhouse, because you don’t know the half of it.
This two-act show is built almost entirely on verbal cobwebs. From its first lines, the “Don’t Dress for Dinner” characters lie, desperately try to untangle themselves from the stickiness of those lies, and then frantically weave more and more lies.
And while this sex comedy’s sensibilities may feel perilously outdated, the tumultuous pacing with all the character gyrations can be entertaining as all get out.
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Written by French playwright Marc Camoletti in 1985, “Pyjamas Pour Six” was adapted to English in 1991 by Robin Hawdon — English-speaking audiences see fewer characters in their jammies — this tête-à-tête-athon achieves a sense of recognizability by trading on the sheer Frenchi-ness of it all.
Marital infidelity is treated as a given, nary a glimmer of guilt in the proceedings. The main goal, beyond merely panting after a hot affair, is not getting caught.
The only hint of remorse ever on display are bad cases of jitters felt by disassembling characters trying to keep their ever-changing backstories straight.
Characters mostly lying their pants — and other items of clothing — off to each other leads to such an exhausting twist of verbalized switchbacks that near the end of the play actor Brandon J. Pierce brings the house down by somehow successfully recapitulating the plot.
Laguna Beach Playhouse first staged this show in its 1996 season. It was such a popular success it was brought back for a second stint the next year.
But in 2024, for all the skill in staging and acting, there’s no getting around the uneasy, dated thematic fault line underlying “Don’t Dress for Dinner.”
Beyond reveling in adultery, this production is built on male-written female characters still objectified in a very throwback way.
For instance, when it comes time in the second act for dressing gowns to appear, there is a decided lack of material in the costumes for the female characters versus their male cast mates.
And for all the ooh-la-la factor built in — frenchified music and voice-overs at the play’s start strongly signal this cultural distancing — there’s no getting past bedrock sensibilities that resonate shakily.
Still, the laughs are certainly constant. The show’s primary in-the-moment appeal is seeing an adroit ensemble maneuver through the storyline’s constantly unfolding chaos.
Director Christopher Williams and an accomplished cast largely keep these plates spinning.
Williams’ background as a fight choreographer is well on display, particularly as the characters throw down alcohol during the long night’s series of events … a four-person flopping dogpile of the three women whomping down in a stack on top of one the men is a visual payoff.
Brian Robert Burns and Kim Morgan Dean, as aggressively cheating mates Bernard and Jacqueline, are adept performers in different ways.
Not at all his sole virtue, but Burns’ constant and darting movement is a showcase of physicality, he’s like a tap dancer skillfully and constantly on the move, trying to nimble his way around the pitfalls his character repeatedly sets in motion.
Dean is a steely constant, good at summoning up inner desires and mistrusts, especially through her range of prominent sharp-eyed gazes, conveying a range of anger, lust, disgust and sheer confusion.
Three other characters provide significant aids and obstacles in all the connivances.
Pierce’s Robert, best friend of Bernard and even more interested in Jacqueline, is charged with being the most incredulous member of the cast at all the plot gyrations. Pierce’s talent for summoning instantaneous incredulity, projecting it with palpable agitation and often panic constantly buoys his scenes.
As a cook with an extremely bribable nature, Veronica Dunne’s wily Suzette is both baffled by what is expected of her and on board with them … for 200 francs a turn. The actress’ wobbly accent — the more Suzette drinks, the more charmingly erratic it becomes! — is a delight.
Katy Tang’s Suzanne — gee, Suzanne and Suzette, hmmm, do you think confusion might result from those names when each is referred to as “Suzy”? — as a consort generates a good slow burn at being put to actual work rather than staying up on her pedestal as a glam consort.
There is a second act appearance by Jared Van Heel, as Geoge, extremely buff and worrisome to the other males. Heel isn’t on stage long, but his — understandable — bafflement at the doings he encounters turn him from threatening Pitbull into more of a bewildered St. Bernard.
Scenic designer Marty Burnett provides a familiar-looking house interior from a couple other recent shows, its four doors — surprising for a farce, they don’t get slammed — and furnishings (an oversize ottoman employed hopefully as an homage to the opening credits for the “Dick Van Dyke Show”?) are useful.
Matt Novotny bathes the proceedings with his usual sympathetic and enhancing lighting for Playhouse productions.
So, no lie: the truth is that while this “Don’t Dress for Dinner” may be thematically problematic, it is successful at brazenly generating laughs.
‘Don’t Dress for Dinner’
Rating: 3 stars (from a possible 4)
Where: Laguna Playhouse, 606 Laguna Canyon Road, Laguna Beach
When: Through Sept. 22. 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays, 2 and 7:30 p.m. Thursdays, 7:30 p.m. Fridays, 2 and 7:30 p.m. Saturdays and 1 and 5:30 p.m. Sundays. There will be no 5:30 p.m. performance on Sept. 22.
Tickets: $56-105
Information: 949-497-2787; lagunaplayhouse.com
