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The Eight: Reindeer Monologues
by Jeff Goode

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THEATER ARTICLE

For some, naughty is nice
by Pat O'Brien, Riverside Press Enterprise

November 19, 2004

The Eight: Reindeer Monologues is not for the kiddies. It isn't even for some adults.

But for those who like irreverence, social commentary and a bit of raunchiness in their Rudolph, it may make for a very merry Christmas.

Here's the premise: Santa stands accused of molesting a reindeer and each of the famed sleigh pullers dishes about the boss with acid-tongued delight.

Part of what is funny, but also unsettling, is the incongruous juxtaposition of people wearing antlers sitting in Santa's workshop talking about sexual misconduct.

"I think it's pretty cool when you can do a play as silly as this about reindeer and still have something to say," said director Josh Costello. "There is a level of irony I find very compelling, very funny."

Costello was founder and artistic director of Impact Theatre in Berkeley and taught acting at South Coast Rep Young Conservatory. He said he cringed when first asked if he would direct a Christmas play for the Chance Theater Repertory Company in Anaheim Hills. But when he read Jeff Goode's play, he was hooked.

It turns Christmas - it's commercialism and cloying sentiment - on its head, he said.

"It's fair to say it's cutting. There are people who would be offended if they saw the play. It's very raunchy. Like an episode of 'South Park' is how raunchy it gets," he said. "It's a challenging play to watch."

It brings up the reaction people have when their heroes or at least people they respect, such as priests or Kobe Bryant, are accused of sexual misdeeds. People don't want to believe it, Costello said.

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THEATER REVIEW

Chance offers reindeer head games
You think you know them, but do you know them at all?
by Anne-Margret Bellavoine, Northern Lights

November 22, 2004

Yes, we all know Rudolph, and even the names of his eight team mates - well, at least what the song has to say on the topic. Once upon a time, on a foggy Xmas night, or so it starts.

Whether you've been naughty or nice, you're in for great in-your-face seasonal merriment with perverse shock factor in Jeff Goode's wickedly funny play denouncing the Santa Claus scandal which threatens to topple the entire Christmas institution. Josh Costello directs this eight vignette window into scabrous North Pole realities.

We open with Dasher (Casey Long), the one and only team leader who lets out his unresolved anger issues at the 'fat boy' and Rudolph who stole the show from him, that one and only night. Dasher is a tough working deer who does not shun the task, under whatever conditions, unlike some of his team mates.

Cupid (Dimas Diaz) lives up to his name. He is the only openly 'out of the closet' one on the team. In his risqué monologue, he exposes the darkest secrets of the Claus household, from the harassment dished out by the Mrs. to her husband's exploitation of children, a time bomb waiting to explode.

Hollywood (Michael Irish) is a new name on the team with issues over his own claim to fame. He hates kids and other animals, but thinks Bambi would have rightly deserved an Oscar. Throughout his less than serene yoga routine, he delivers a diatribe against all the machinations of the Pole.

And no, they're not all male. Blitzen (Alex Bueno) is a tough and angry feminist who will not rest until she has righted the devastating wrongs of her boss. Kids stop believing the myth because of the repressed memories of an evil old man who has the power to know when they are sleeping and worm himself into their very homes as they lay in bed awaiting gifts. Injustice is rampant, with Santa not bothering to visit much of the third world.

Comet (Carter Mason) has a completely different spin from his team mates. He worships the good old Saint Nick who rescued him from a shelter for troubled deer and turned his life around, saving him from a certain fate as road kill and mounted wall trophy. For him, Rudolph is a handi¬capped fawn who got given the chance of his life.

Dancer (Sarah Moreau) is a vapid blonde who gave up her dancing career when reindoes and stags had to hang up their satin slippers and tutus. She prefers baking cookies to hard work, bemoaning the working conditions of the one night she actually has to put in, concerned about additional benefits such as sick leave and vacations. She has heard the rumors, but would rather not rock the boat in spite of the obvious problems.

Donner (Richard Comeau) is Rudolph's father and wracked with guilt over selling his son's soul for material comfort. He is like all parents, concerned about his only child's limited future with its crushed dreams. When Kris Kringle came sniffing around and selected his son, his resolve to say no eventually wavered.

Last but not least is Vixen (Heather Howe). She is at the center of this triangle of scandal. Did Santa rape her, or was she responsible for having seduced him? Who is lying and who is telling the truth when they present their versions of the same event, even though clearly neither Mr. or Mrs. Claus are saints. And who will believe the only witness, poor Rudolph in his catatonic state?

What is at stake is Christmas for children the world over. In this brilliant allegorical satire, Goode pokes jolly fun at all the foibles of modern society and troubled families. This unpolitically correct tale hits its mark over and over in the outrageous monologues. We never see Santa, Mrs. Claus or Rudolph, but the eight yarns give us a composite picture of what may have happened. We're the judge and jury, and the fate of Christmas hangs in the balance.

The eight characters deliver wonderful characterizations of their deer personalities, hybrid of animal and human.

If too many Nutcrackers and Christmas Carols have given you holiday indigestion, this non traditional and biting holiday offering is sure to be a potent antidote to treackle sweet sugar plum fairies and candy cane overdoses. Strong language and adult situations make this a no-children show.

 

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THEATER REVIEW

A view from the sleigh front
'Reindeer Monlogues' lends an irreverent, adult tone to Santa and his antlered team.
by Eric Marchese, Orange County Register

November 26, 2004

Take the climate of the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal, apply it to Santa Claus at the North Pole, and what have you got? "The Eight: Reindeer Monologues," Jeff Goode's contemporary, comedic-dramatic spin on Santa's famous team of eight reindeer. One of them, Vixen, is about to press sexual-harassment charges against jolly old St. Nick, and the he-said, she-said scenario has everyone running for cover.

The 1994 play, Goode's ingenious revisionism of the Santa Claus-reindeer myth, delivers the withering irreverence of only the most well-honed satire. In a new staging at its Anaheim Hills venue, the Chance Theater gives the spiky, R-rated play a distinctive workout.

Peering behind the curtain of myth, Goode finds alcoholism and drug abuse, homosexuality and bisexuality, debauchery and lechery. Among the eight are narcissists, prima donnas, homebodies, sex kittens and bad boys with titillating tales surrounding the beloved Santa. Peppered with salty language, "The Eight" skirts the line between too-cautious and bad taste, between stale and heavy- handed.

Goode serves up eight successive solo scenes, well-embellished by director Josh Costello and his cast. We get a swaggering Dasher (Casey Long), "first reindeer from Day One," still sulking over the night Rudolph led the team; a lisping, limp-wristed, giggly Cupid (Dimas Diaz); a self-promoting Prancer (Michael Irish), nicknamed "Hollywood" by his peers for his shameless pursuit of a movie caree;, and a militant Blitzen (Alex Bueno), determined to avenge the wrongs inflicted upon herself, Vixen and every doe at the North Pole.

Preppie Comet (Carter Mason) is a reformed hell-raiser who defends Santa's reputation. Passing her time baking cookies, sweet young doe Dancer (Sarah Moreau) was once nearly molested by Santa but is afraid to speak out. An aging, disillusioned Donner (Richard Comeau) brings us up to speed on the truth behind the legend surrounding his son Rudolph. Finally, wronged doe Vixen (Heather Howe), at the center of the hubbub, delivers her side of the story, a rape that began when Santa cornered her alone in the toy shop one day.

"Rashomon"-like, each monologue brings us one step closer to understanding what really happened that day. You'd expect the topic of sexual harassment in the workplace to be dealt with in a drama; the genius of "The Eight" is that it faces the subject head-on even while satirizing it.

Costello and company lend the proper tongue-in-cheek irreverence and a wickedly knowing comedic tone, well-balanced by occasional bursts of intense solemnity. Emily Sanford equips each of the eight with outsized reindeer ears, a black-tipped nose and slightly rouged cheeks. The male actors sport horns, while several deer - bucks Dasher, Cupid and Prancer and doe Blitzen - don too-cool shades.

So sharp is Goode's writing that even the less-pointed scenes are effective. Sporting a cowboy hat, Long's Dasher spoofs the obsession with unsafe working conditions, his speech a catalog of his solid work ethic and of the occupational hazards - fog, cold, sharp rooftops - of being a reindeer. Bueno's sneering Blitzen scorns the "jolly fat pervert" Santa, whom she labels a "libidinous troll," and exposes the corporate mentality behind St.Nick's racket. Mason lends Comet the general appearance of Nathan Lane and the personality of a former wastrel who blasts journalists, lawyers and "perverts" such as Cupid, Blitzen and Vixen for Santa's woes.

More overtly comedic is Diaz, whose sarcastic tone and mock-oily manner as Cupid, "the only openly gay reindeer," weld the concept of sexual profligacy to the snowy-pure image of the Santa myth.

Irish portrays Prancer as a cynical, me-oriented jerk who delivers his monologue during a yoga session, wearing only bikini briefs. Prancer decimates the beloved annual Rudolph TV special as "a Claymation piece of crap" and rips Hollywood execs - a diatribe Irish injects with a biting tone and unmistakable bitterness.

Moreau's clueless-ingenue persona for Dancer is not only endearing; it's a welcome respite from the other reindeers' harangues. Her solo may be less focused than the others', but it lends the perspective of a naïve spirit straining to cope with the ugliness around her.

Donner's a grumpy, morose, old smoker with a bad back, a figure we laugh at, yet pity. Rudolph is a simpleton disfigured at birth - but, Donner tells us, "your dreams for your children are what keep you going." In a short span, Comeau displays Donner's fragile ego, fierce pride, disillusionment and cynicism.

In the crowning scene, Howe at first comes off as a wine-sipping sex kitten in red silk jammies - but the actor's dry sarcasm and ironic tone give comedic kick to Vixen's words. Howe delivers Vixen's fury in full force: Her privacy invaded, her virtue questioned, the doe is left only with her dignity. The monologue, a hoof-kick to our gut, is the strong, final punctuation to an evening of rapid-fire bursts of laughter and intensity.
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Freelance writer Eric Marchese has covered entertainment for the Register since 1984.

 

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THEATER REVIEW

Merry #$@*% Xmas!
'The Eight: Reindeer Monologues" spreads the joy
by Rich Kane, OC Weekly

December 2, 2004

F$@* Christmas. F$@* presents. F$@* eggnog. F$@* mistletoe. F$@* Jesus. F$@* Charlie Brown. F$@* Christmas trees. F$@* The Nutcracker. F$@* Jimmy Stewart. F$@* elves. F$@* Tiny Tim. F$@* Christmas wreaths. F$@* Frosty. F$@* shopping malls and the people who shop in them.

And f$@* Santa f$@*ing Claus, too. The reindeer are f$@*ing pissed off, and that sick perverted f$@* is gonna pay.

Such is the aura of resentment that lingers in the air during The Eight: Reindeer Monologues, Jeff Goode’s wickedly funny 1994 play about the darker side of fame—well, mythical fame, anyway. Goode has given Santa’s Gang of Eight some very human personality traits, and the actors are given ample stage time to flesh their characters out. There’s Dasher (Casey Long), an overly testosteroned buck’s buck, who still can’t get over the time when Rudolph got picked to guide the sleigh that one foggy Christmas Eve. Cupid (Dimas Diaz) is, of course, the gay one, who’s got the dirt on everybody, especially his red-suited boss ("A sex crime waiting to happen—do you know how many tight young asses he’s had across his lap? All of them!"). Prancer (Michael Irish) now goes by the name Hollywood, practicing yoga between acting auditions. Blitzen (Alex Bueno) is a militant feminist lesbian. Comet (Carter Mason) giggles about the times he used to fly coked-up. Dancer (Sarah Moreau) bakes cookies all day and bitches about being trapped in a job she hates. Donner (Richard Comeau) is in a hospital, waiting to find out the status of his son, the never-seen Rudolph (Rudolph, it turns out, was just a young retarded buck Santa took advantage of; he’s now locked in a padded stall and mumbles about penises all day). And Vixen (Heather Howe) carps about being on the receiving end of Santa’s bestiality fetish—an event each reindeer alludes to in leading up to Vixen’s closing monologue.

So, yeah, it ain’t exactly The Glory of Christmas. Which is why Monologues is such a delicious hoof-stomper, flipping a jingle-belled bird to the season’s most hallowed secular icon. Goode wraps it up in such a way that you can’t help thinking if the whole Santa legend were real and his reindeer could really talk, something like this would be inevitable, especially in a culture like ours, infatuated with scandal and celebrity.

What’s perplexing is that Monologues is only being performed weekends in the late afternoon and early evening, a sort of black-sheep cousin to the Chance’s more mainstream production of It’s A Wonderful Life, which gets a usual prime-time slot. But f$@* that—this is the better holiday bet.

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