“Young Frankenstein” is an unapologetically vulgar, pandering and puerile musical. The first slapstick knee-to-the-crotch moment comes less than half way into the first song. In one number, a winsome lass fondles a necklace of sausages while singing about the joys of “a roll in the hay.”
The Mercury Theater Chicago’s staging of the musical (music and lyrics by Mel Brooks, book by Thomas Meehan) embraces the camp, the bawdiness and the ridiculousness with cheery verve.
Directed by L. Walter Stearns with music direction by Eugene Dizon, “Young Frankenstein” is a seasonally fitting giggle fest wrought with cheesy double-entendres and monstrous puns. The cast milks the jokes until the jug is bone-dry, but “Young Frankenstein” remains mindlessly enjoyable.
“Young Frankenstein” was inspired by Brooks’ classic 1974 movie of the same name, which was essentially a comic sequel to Mary Shelley’s seminal 19th century novel, “Frankenstein.”
Shelley’s sci-fi thriller/tragedy is propelled by Dr. Victor Frankenstein’s monomaniacal hubris in creating life from death, and the abject loneliness of the Creature he builds from spare body parts.
“Young Frankenstein” centers on Victor’s grandson Frederick Frankenstein (Sean Fortunato), a professor of brain science. When Frederick learns he has inherited his grandfather’s castle, he must leave academia to settle his affairs in Transylvania (Setting of Bram Stoker’s “Dracula,” not “Frankenstein,” but never mind.)
Upon arrival, Frederick is met by Igor (Ryan Stajmiger), the humpbacked grandson of Victor Frankenstein’s manservant. Lurking in the shadows is the deceptively dour Frau Blucher (Mary Robin Roth), the castle’s housekeeper.
Egged on by Igor and googly-eyed with lust for his new lab assistant Inga (Isabella Andrews), Frederick resumes his grandfather’s line of work.
Hijinks ensue after The Monster (Andrew MacNaughton) rises from the slab. Romantic complications arise when Frederick’s fiancee Elizabeth Benning (Lillian Castillo) arrives in Transylvania, only to learn she’s now wildly attracted to The Monster.
As The Monster looks for love and the women explore their sexual options, “Young Frankenstein” includes hilarious blink-and-you’ll-miss-’em shoutouts to “Gypsy,” “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” and “South Pacific,” among others.
Fortunato’s Frederick Frankenstein sits at the center of the Mercury’s staging. Whether rapid-fire singing the praises of the cerebellum, cackling at the heavens as he lights up the lab or losing himself in the ample charms of Inga, Fortunato has a boyish, old-school-song-and-dance-man charm that’s a joy to watch.
He’s well-matched by both Stagmijer’s Igor and MacNaughton’s Monster. Stajmiger brings an eccentric charisma to Igor, his bugged-out eyes, suspiciously shifting hump and lurching gait morphing into vaudevillian grace in numbers including “It Could Work” and “Together Again.”
MacNaughton has the daunting task of bringing life to a character who communicates primarily in grunts and growls; he makes the meaning within his every squawking utterance crystal-clear and comic gold.
Castillo delivers a star turn as Elizabeth, a doe-eyed ingenue with the innocence of Mary Pickford, the siren-sensuality of Salome and the lit-from-within confidence of a woman who knows how to wield the power of both personas. “Please Don’t Touch Me” is essentially a one-joke song, but Castillo has you laughing at it over and over and over again.
Ditto Frau Blucher’s “He Vas My Boyfriend.” When Roth starts in on the chair choreography, she has a gleam in her eye that reads to the rafters. Roth’s increasingly frenetic shimmies, shakes and stomps are a musical masterclass in the marriage of sex and comedy.
Brenda Didier’s choreography furthers the story and highlights the comedy throughout. Led by Fortunato and MacNaughton, Irving Berlin’s “Puttin’ On the Ritz” is a taptacular treat from the top hat and tails the cast dons to the glow-in-the-dark canes that light the stage with a chartreuse pallor.
The show has two drawbacks: The young ensemble needs to rein in the mugging. Camped-up overacting is fine for a show like this, but to a degree. More than once, background chorus members contorting their faces into scowls and grimaces pull focus from the leads. Similarly, Stearns has the cast leaning just a moment too long into many of the jokes.
Still, Dizon’s live pocket orchestra and the cast soundterrific, from Castillo’s belting soprano vibrato on “Deep Love” to the pitchfork-toting villagers cries to “Hang Him Til He’s Dead.” And Tommy Novak’s nuts-and-bolts make-up design has The Monster looking believably stitched together and marvelously undead.
“Young Frankenstein” might lack the promethean grandeur of Shelley’s novel, but it’s fiendish fun.
