The Mystery of Irma Vep is some kind of freaking masterpiece. Charles Ludlam's 1984 "penny dreadful" exuberantly recalls Victorian melodrama, Hammer Studios horror epics, cheap-thrill popular entertainment of every sort, and, above all, the collective memories of every movie buff who ever lived. It brings back clichés you'd forgotten and serves them up hilariously, in language that's both true to English-potboiler conventions and laced with naughty double entendre: "Virginity is the balloon in the carnival of life. It vanishes on the first prick." And, thanks to Ludlam's ingenious structure, it's a wondrous opportunity for two actors to change costumes, accents, genders, and emotions at the drop of a wig or the howl of a werewolf. Though heavily indebted to drag and camp elements that flourished in Ludlam's heyday, it has universal appeal, a feast for anyone with a sense of the absurd. The atmosphere is so comically charged, and the artificiality so pronounced, that occasional stage mishaps (a couple happened at the performance attended: a trick prop unfolding at the wrong moment, an uncooperative wig) only make it funnier.
I saw Ludlam and Everett Quinton in the Ridiculous Theatrical Company's original production, and it can't be denied that Chris Dell'Armo and Paul Pecorino, the stars of Urban Stages' new revival, aren't quite their equals. Under Tony Caselli's direction, their delivery is a bit rushed, slurring some of Ludlam's sublimely purple dialogue; and as Jane, the snippy, evil servant, Dell'Armo hasn't yet learned to extract the maximum comic potential out of lines like "Sure I loves me toddy and me toddy loves me." That said, they're pretty spectacular. Both are, first of all, seriously ugly women, which makes the ridiculous more so. Pecorino is very slight and Dell'Armo very tall, and the contrast itself is a lovely sight gag. And Pecorino, who can pop his eyes so expansively that they look like they're about to drop out and roll across the stage, has an endless supply of grimaces, leers, and smiles that do Ludlam proud. His dance of the Egyptian mummy queen (an Act 2 highlight in the original, danced, if memory serves, to an old Cher hit) is the best I've ever seen. Dell'Armo is the more adept role-changer, an Irma of limitless hamminess, and especially impressive as Lord Edgar, spouting stalwart-hero lines with unctuous deadpan dead aim that oozes Gunga Din, The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, and 100 other Turner classic movies.
Both appear to be having a grand time scrambling about and behind Norma Lee Chartoff's elaborately rigged set (special applause to stage manager Suzanne Apicella, who must have a dozen cues a minute), wriggling in and out of Gail Baldoni's Velcro-dependent costumes, and doing double and triple takes to extend the abundant laughter. Perfect this Irma Vep isn't, but it's the most fun you're likely to have Off-Off-Broadway all month.
Presented by Madcap Productions
at Urban Stages, 259 W. 30th St., NYC.
July 3-15; Tue.-Sat., 8p.m.; Sun., 2 p.m.
(212) 868-4444 or www.smartix.com.