Anyone who loves to laugh will appreciate the Swift Creek Mill Theatre’s production of Greater Tuna, but it’s especially funny to those who have experienced the recurring characters and petty dramas of a small town.
While the title may sound like a soliloquy on seafood, the show is about the fictional hamlet of Tuna, Texas, and a wide array of its inhabitants: a swaggering sheriff, a haughty “mean girl,” a town drunk, and a perpetual city council candidate, just for starters. It takes you from the local morning radio show to the kitchen of a fed-up mom to the wake of a dearly departed judge, each scene with its own surprises.
What’s remarkable about Greater Tuna is that all these characters (nearly two dozen of them) are played by only two actors. As soon as one character leaves a scene, another enters from elsewhere on the stage—after what must be a dizzying dash through a carefully curated wardrobe. It would be astonishing to peek backstage at their process for getting two men in and out of shirtwaist dresses, overalls, and bathrobes (not to mention the accessories) for two hours with little time to stop and think.
John Hagadorn was a delight as everyone from Pearl (the fussy aunt who loves chickens but hates dogs) to R.R. Snavely (whose UFO sightings may or may not be related to the flask in his pocket). With apparent ease, he slid from the frazzled falsetto of mom-of-three Bertha to the bleak monotone of grumpy hunting enthusiast Elmer. He also served as the voice of Yippy, a persistent chihuahua mix, and expertly mimicked the sound of a rotary-dial telephone—a sound anyone over forty will take in with a nostalgic sigh.
Bartley Mullin was equally agile, gliding seamlessly in and out of characters like Petey (the earnest animal lover) to Charlene (the dejected would-be cheerleader). When he is savoring sinister deeds as Charlene’s twin, the reform-school reject Stanley, it’s easy to forget that he was just merrily prattling on as disc jockey Arles Struvie. He is particularly memorable as Vera Carp, an insufferably snooty gossip with a passive-aggressive jab for every acquaintance.
With some surprisingly current plot points (like the town’s small but loud movement to clear objectionable books from the high school library shelves) it’s hard to believe Greater Tuna debuted way back in 1981. But with characters so universally relatable and recognizable, it’s easy to see why it’s been a favorite of theaters nationwide ever since.
Greater Tuna runs at Swift Creek Mill Theatre through April 30. For showtimes and tickets, go here.
