Cambridge Dictionary defines a farce as “a humorous play or film where the characters become involved in unlikely situations.” By that definition, Look No Hans! is a near-perfect example.
Written by John Chapman and Michael Pertwee, Look No Hans! is set in the early 1990s in the West Berlin office of a struggling British motor company. Peter Fisher is its increasingly harassed manager, charged with the unenviable task of selling British cars to Germans who seem rather more interested in BMWs and Volkswagens. As if that were not difficult enough, Peter is also an undercover agent for British Security of Industry — a role for which he is spectacularly ill-suited.
What follows is a wonderfully ridiculous mixture of domestic deception and faux espionage. Peter’s plans are progressively derailed by the arrival of his wife, his mistress Heidi, a Russian stripogrammer, an intense fellow secret agent and an officious representative from the motor company, while everyone waits for the mysterious Hans and some highly sensitive industrial secrets. People are hidden (yes, often in the cupboard!), explanations become increasingly implausible, entrances and exits multiply (again, often from the cupboard), and every attempt to solve one problem creates several more. Somehow, as every good farce demands, the whole impossible mess eventually works itself out.
Interestingly, on opening night there was something distinctly farcical happening beyond the script as well, demonstrating emphatically how “life” imitates “art” — or is that the other way around?
A dreadful technical feedback problem plagued the production almost from the outset of Act One. It was more than a momentary irritation. The repeated interference made it difficult for the actors to establish the rhythm and momentum upon which farce so heavily depends, and it affected the audience as well. Rather than being immediately absorbed into Peter Fisher’s increasingly absurd world, it was difficult to completely disassociate from the technical reality surrounding the performers. The result was a slight disconnect through parts of the first act.
That was particularly unfortunate because farce demands confidence, pace and precision. The audience has to surrender to the absurdity; once it does, even the most implausible situation becomes perfectly logical within the strange little universe the actors have created.
Act Two however demonstrated exactly what this production was capable of. With the technical distractions behind it, the production found its rhythm and the transformation was striking. The cast settled into the pace, the comedy flowed, the absurdities accumulated naturally and the audience was finally able to invest completely in the action. The second act worked beautifully and, perhaps more importantly, showed just how good both the play and this production really were.
In an odd way, the evening itself mirrored the structure of the farce: everything seemed to be going wrong, confusion reigned for a while, but somehow it all worked out splendidly in the end.
Veteran director and Lamerton Award winner Damon Hill was at the helm. Farce is a deceptively difficult beast to direct. When it works it can look effortless, but it relies on timing, movement, escalating tension and performers completely committing to the ridiculous situations in which their characters find themselves. By Act Two, all of those elements were coming together beautifully. Damon’s set design also worked particularly well, providing a practical and convincing backdrop for the constant entrances, exits and escalating chaos that the farce demands.
Particular praise must go to Kieran Drost, himself a Lamerton Award winner, as the perpetually beleaguered Peter Fisher. This is an enormous role. Peter is the engine room of the entire farce and Kieran is on stage virtually throughout, attempting to manage an ever-expanding catalogue of lies, misunderstandings, unexpected arrivals and general mayhem.
Kieran managed the shenanigans superbly. More significantly, he handled the very real difficulties of the first act like a true professional. With the technical problems threatening to disrupt both rhythm and concentration, he remained composed, kept the action moving and never allowed Peter’s increasingly desperate world to unravel completely. Once the production hit its stride in Act Two, the size and difficulty of what Kieran had been doing all evening became even more apparent.
A huge role, handled expertly. Praise be upon him!
Millie Webb, making her stage debut as the decidedly duplicitous Heidi, can also be very pleased with her first outing. Stepping into a fast-moving farce is no gentle introduction to the stage, particularly one in which timing and confidence are so important. Millie acquitted herself well and showed plenty of promise. We look forward to seeing more of her in future productions.
Jo-Anne Davis was highly amusing as Monica, Peter’s delightfully ditzy and socially ambitious wife. Jo-Anne gave Monica just the right degree of self-importance and obliviousness, making her a constant source of comic disruption as Peter’s already impossible situation became even more tangled.
Kyle McCarty brought plenty of comic energy to Cadwallader, the secret-agent try-hard desperately attempting to make sense of Peter’s increasingly ridiculous explanations. Kyle was a very effective foil for Kieran’s increasingly frantic Peter, his attempts to impose some order only heightening the absurdity. He played the mounting confusion well, particularly as Cadwallader became ever more entangled in circumstances beyond his control — eventually, quite literally, “taking one for the team” (spoiler alert!).
Amber Wilkshire was great fun as Mitzi, the stripogrammer, complete with an excellent Russian accent that was almost as impressive as her faux inability to make an omelette. Amber leaned confidently into the absurdity of the role and added another layer of comic chaos to Peter’s rapidly disintegrating world.
Stacey Webb added a welcome touch of normality — if anything in this play can truly be called normal — as Ms Tregunter-Jones, the officious car sales representative. Stacey gave the role a nicely grounded quality, making her gradual entanglement in the surrounding chaos all the more amusing. Eventually even she was forced to concede defeat, throwing her hands — or was that “Hans”? — in the air with a perfectly delivered shrug of disbelief and disdain.
Then, of course, there was Brian Godfrey as Kurt, the ever-present voice on the intercom. You couldn’t see him, but you certainly knew he was there!
There is also much to like about seeing a production at Tea Tree Players Theatre itself. It is a wonderfully intimate venue where the audience is close enough to feel part of the action rather than merely observing it from a distance. Add well-priced bevvies served by spirited volunteers and there is something refreshingly communal about the entire experience — exactly the sort of environment in which community theatre should thrive.
Opening night may not have begun kindly for Look No Hans!, but the production recovered emphatically. By the second act the technical gremlins had surrendered, the audience was firmly with the performers, and Chapman and Pertwee’s carefully engineered nonsense was firing exactly as it should.
Despite a few opening-night gremlins, Look No Hans! ultimately delivers exactly what a good farce should — escalating chaos, ridiculous situations, committed performances and plenty of laughs. Tea Tree Players have another thoroughly entertaining comedy on their Hans!
