Death makes you sing better : 'Forever Plaid' at Sanibel's Schoolhouse Theater
THEATRE REVIEW
_BY NANCY _STETSON Florida Weekly Correspondent

Unless you're Scottish or a lumberjack, plaid usually isn't a recommended fashion statement.

But don't tell that to Forever Plaid, a fictional singing group from Pennsylvania. They proudly wear plaid bow ties and cummerbunds, with matching handkerchiefs peeking out of their breast pockets. And when they finally get their plaid dinner jackets - a fashion don't, if there ever was one - they are beside themselves with glee.

"Forever Plaid," playing at the Schoolhouse Theater on Sanibel through Dec. 1, is a mindless, lovable little musical about these four misguided boys.

The premise: the four are on their way to sing at the Airport Hilton cocktail bar when their car is broadsided by a bus full of teenage Catholic schoolgirls on their way to see the Beatles perform on "The Ed Sullivan Show" (an apt metaphor for what the British Invasion did to the mellow, syrupy American music of the time.) The four die instantly, but must return to earth to give the one last performance they missed, before they can continue their afterlife journey through the cosmos.

"We could make the biggest comeback since Lazarus," one says excitedly.

The quartet proceeds to put on a concert, singing chestnuts such as "Three Coins in the Fountain," "No Not Much" and "Perfidia," performing with wooden, stilted choreography which one of them inevitably messes up.

But as they sing, they gain confidence.

"Guys, we didn't sound this good in life," Jinx says.

"Funny thing, death," is the reply.

When Jinx (Keith R. Varney) nervously takes the lead for "Cry," you feel for him. With his hangdog looks and mournful eyes, he's full of self-doubt and trepidation. But reaching deep inside he somehow finds the strength and confidence he needs and winds up belting out the song.

Next, Smudge (Michael Pine) takes the lead for "Sixteen Tons" and the nerd transforms into a macho singer. (Later on, he loses his Buddy Holly-like black-rimmed glasses and transforms into a movie idol for the song "Rags to Riches.")

Wesley Seals plays Spanky, an overly enthusiastic All-American kid, and Larry Cox, Jr., rounds out the quartet as Frankie, the sweet kid with the movie-star looks and ever-constant inhaler for his asthma.

Despite their initial physical awkwardness, the four have fantastic voices that blend and melt together. Cast in the mold of groups such as The Four Aces, The Four Freshman, The Four Lads and all those other "four" groups, this quartet sings with velvety smoothness.

The silly jokes and story are just a plot device to get four guys on stage singing over 20 classics.

Their repertoire also includes "Catch a Falling Star," "Shangri-La," "Day-0" and "Love is a Many Spendored Thing."

"Forever Plaid" has a haphazard, throwntogether feel, and that's part of its goofy charm.

The less than half-full house didn't laugh at many of the jokes in the beginning, nor did they seem to get Pine's throwaway line: "Maybe Thomas Wolfe was right when he said you could never go back to your house again."

But the crowd roared when the quartet put on an entire Ed Sullivan show in three minutes and 11 seconds, and when they enlisted an audience member to pick out "Heart and Soul" on the keyboard with Jinx.

Musical director/pianist Mike Baer is the fifth character in the show, playing himself, essentially. He skillfully accompanies the four on their songs. The set design, by Todd Sherman, is minimal - a red and blue stage with the piano on a raised platform.

"Forever Plaid" celebrates a time when singers crooned and quartets sang love songs in sweet four-part harmony. But when the quartet sings the Beatles' "She Loves You" in their style, singing "She loves you/Yesiree bob," they sound like Pat Boone when he'd cover a Little Richard tune and ruin it with blandness. And you realize just how huge a revolution rock 'n' roll was - even the sound of the early Beatles, when they sang about wanting to hold your hand.

"Forever Plaid" is a goofy little trifle of a musical, but for 80 minutes or so, it harkens back to a time when harmonies - and Perry Como - ruled.