“Shucked,” the corn pone, corny, cornfed musical has landed, and for a brief time you too can indulge in the vegetable that is the same going in as it is coming out. This hilarious musical is a one-stop, old fashioned general store of pun after pun and joke after joke that will leave you gasping for air and secretly ashamed that you have succumbed to such succotash—the pun. No less a pundit (yes, that was intended) than John Dryden, the 17th-century literary critic and playwright said it (the pun) would “torture one poor word ten thousand ways.” Samuel Johnson, the 18th-century essayist and moralist declared it to be the lowest form of humor. You won’t get an argument here, but I reserve the right to laugh repeatedly.
Cob County is a patch of land in the middle of nowhere, fenced in and isolated from the rest of the world by cornrows (cue the first laugh). The townsfolk are mighty happy there and lack for nothing. The corn of Cob County is as high as an elephant’s eye (it makes as much sense here as it did in “Oklahoma”). They are about to participate in the wedding between Maizy (yes, I know, it’s too on the nose, or rather on the cob) and Beau. But stop the presses, the corn isn’t growing; worse, it’s dying. Peanut, Beau’s several-kernels-short-of-a-cob brother and purveyor of most of the truly awful jokes and puns, declares that he can’t marry them until they figure out the problem with the corn.
Cob County is the very definition of traditional and very out-of-fashion values. When Maizy declares that she believes they must look for help outside Cob County, she is shouted down, dismissed and ridiculed. They live and die by the idea that women need to be protected, don’t and shouldn’t have original ideas, and need to stay home and let the menfolk work out the problems. Hurt and repulsed when Beau expresses these thoughts and dismisses her out of hand, she rebels, determined to find the solution herself.
Maizy books a ticket to the outside world—Tampa. Tampa, when you can’t afford Orlando or Atlanta. Arriving in town, she is immediately drawn to a sign that points to the “Corn Doctor.” Like a bolt of lightning, she can’t believe her luck. The corn doctor will have the solution. Unaware of the other meaning, she makes an appointment with Gordy, the podiatrist, who is in need of a quick escape. The mob is breathing down his neck and he doesn’t have the money they demand.
Maizy, dazzled by his big-city charm, entreats Gordy to come with her to Cob County and fix their problem. Gordy, a conman of dubious proficiency, a less successful Harold Hill (“The Music Man” is channeled often) is more than happy to oblige when he spies Maizy’s dazzling gemstone bracelet, stones that may get him out of his troubles. Arriving back in Cob County, romantic problems rear their head when Maizy confesses to Beau that she kissed Gordy. But Gordy, already with his exit plan, is smitten by the one independent woman in town, Maizy’s cousin and best friend Lulu, whose corn whiskey business is about to be shucked unless she gets a fresh supply of corn.
There is so much more to tell, but why spoil the fun of viewing. The jokes, as mentioned, come a mile a minute and are at times so awful you can’t believe your ears (yes, I meant that too). Although the ones I found most memorable were double entendres not quite suitable for a PG audience, here is a sample:
“I think people in China must wonder what to call their good plates.”
“After all, a paper plane that doesn’t fly is just stationery.”
“He was head over heels, which is just standing upright.”
“I think if you had time to take a bullet for someone, they had time to move.”
“It was an unsolved mystery, which are really just mysteries.”
And, in illustration of how DNA does tell, “Grandma died doin’ what she loved…makin’ toast in the bathtub.”
Keep in mind, without the proper timing, this would all fall flat. Like the recently released “Naked Gun,” the residents of Cob County sell these lines because they take them seriously. There are no pauses for the laugh so you’ll have to listen carefully or you might miss a gem. The humor is embedded seamlessly into this frothy bit of soda.
There’s more to tell, and of course, all’s well that ends well, but this laugh-out-loud swiftly intoxicating shot of corn liquor will have you begging for more. The scenic design by Scott Pask is a stripped-down ode to a country town of corn stalks. Almost vaudevillian in execution, the choreography of Sarah O’Gleby is a hoedown of joyful high-stepping struts and arms akimbo. Tony Award winning Robert Horn (“Tootsie”) wrote the book and a very funny one it is. Both a satire and an homage to the “Hee Haw” South, composer/lyricists Brandy Clark and Shane McNally, CMA and Grammy Award-winners, have produced a cornucopia of those rarest of rare songs that are actually hummable and could be covered by any Nashville artist working today, and I hope they will be. I am, however, perplexed as to why the producers substituted the song “We Love Jesus” for the uninteresting “Ballad of the Rocks.”
“Shucked” is directed by the prolific Jack O’Brien who has won numerous Tony awards, including one for Lifetime Achievement. He keeps the action flowing smoothly and quickly and gets outstanding performances from his lead actors, and they are a wonderful lot led by that beautiful cornflower, Danielle Wade as Maizy. She has an aching country and western voice that seems to be a cross between Dolly Parton and Reba McIntyre (a co-producer listed as an official Stalksperson). The show is actually bookended by narrators, Storyteller 1 and Storyteller 2, played by the charming Maya Langerstam and Tyler Joseph Ellis, respectively. Miki Abraham as the independent Lulu has a commanding presence and voice. Quinn VanAntwerp is an effective conman who loses his con and finds his way. The charming Jake Odmark is Beau, who is the straight man to both Peanut and Maizy. Mike Nappi steals the show as Peanut as he delivers pun after pun and joke after joke, never cracking a smile on his puzzled, dim face.
Don’t be cornswaggled. Hurry to the Pantages Theater before this national tour moves on to its next cornerback.
Now playing through Sept. 7, Tuesdays through Sundays. Check the Broadway in Hollywood website for times.
Hollywood Pantages Theatre, 6233 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles 90028.
Neely Swanson spent most of her professional career in the television industry, almost all of it working for David E. Kelley. In her last full-time position as Executive Vice President of Development, she reviewed writer submissions and targeted content for adaptation. As she has often said, she did book reports for a living. For several years she was a freelance writer for “Written By,” the magazine of the WGA West, and was adjunct faculty at USC in the writing division of the School of Cinematic Arts. Neely has been writing film and television reviews for the “Easy Reader” for more than 10 years. Her past reviews can be read on Rotten Tomatoes where she is a tomatometer-approved critic.
