THEATER REVIEW: Fishing for noir seamless in ‘Herring’

Those who were around in 1952 “” when Sen. Joseph McCarthy was finding Communists under every rug and film noir was at its zenith “” will particularly appreciate “Red Herring,” a wildly eccentric comedy currently enjoying its Southern California premiere at the Laguna Playhouse.

Michael Hollinger’s episodic epic, with its plethora of punch lines and sight gags, plays out beautifully on the playhouse’s wide-angle stage, where a two-level setting is required to handle all of the play’s various sequences. Director Andrew Barnicle also lets his fertile imagination run wild, resulting in an eminently watchable production.

The story itself pays special tribute to the film noir era, from the early ‘40s to the late ‘50s, which was celebrated on screen in Steve Martin’s “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid.” In fact, the catch line in the Laguna play’s advertising is “Dead Men Don’t Fish.”

Fish and fishing play important roles in Hollinger’s tangled web of a plot, set primarily on the coast of Boston in late 1952 where a mysterious body washes ashore and Sen. McCarthy’s daughter finds herself betrothed to a Communist spy. Meanwhile, an FBI agent and his city policewoman girlfriend attempt to unravel both scenarios.

The show is a series of blackout sketches, most with rib-jabbing gags and enthusiastic overstating. The six actors involved form three couples and do double and triple duty in other guises. It’s demanding and exhausting work, but it’s performed nearly seamlessly. Of the equally capable cast, the standout is Kirsten Potter as the determined city cop probing the dumped body while seeking a romantic commitment from her FBI agent boyfriend. Potter not only has the noir attitude down pat, she also aces the tricky accent.

Brendan Ford evokes the Robert Ryan/Sterling Hayden screen personas of a half century ago in his portrayal of the rugged government agent. He also doubles hilariously as a frazzled priest caught between a pair of overeager confessors.

The young lovers “” McCarthy’s daughter and the Red in her bed “” are played with unbridled zeal by Traci L. Crouch and Brett Ryback. Crouch excels as a ditsy blonde thrust nervously into a microfilm-delivering assignment, while Ryback projects youthful enthusiasm as he seeks idealistically to balance power in the world. They score highest during a long-distance phone conversation with a few seconds of delay, a tricky scene which they bring off admirably.

Funniest of the three pairs “” primarily because of the accents required “” are Deedee Rescher as a middle-aged landlady and Tom Shelton as her Russian boyfriend. Shelton is particularly hilarious when forced, as a “mute,” into an impromptu round of charades to throw off suspicion.

All this inspired madness transpires against the backdrop of a highly impressive two-level setting, designed by Bruce Goodrich, which includes all the elements of Hollinger’s multifaceted plot. Julie Keen’s costumes and Paulie Jenkins’ lighting complete the early ‘50s atmosphere.

“Red Herring” is one of the most comically inspired pieces of theater to come down the pike in years. It’s a superior mixture of satire and slapstick delivered by an energetic ensemble.