‘Louder, Faster, Funnier’ Is Formula for Comedy in Tiffany Theatre’s Farcical Whodunit

Who is the Stagedoor Slasher?

The suspects are a hammy, boozy, lecherous, name-dropping lot, gathered together at Ella Von Grossenkneuten’s country estate, ostensibly to rehearse a new musical. But actually they’re part of a police investigation to flush out the murderer--and, if possible, nab a few maniacal German spies.

It’s all in fun in John Bishop’s period whodunit, “The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940,” playing at the Tiffany Theatre. It’s a madcap farce brimming with mistaken identities, arch dialogue and nonstop action.

“Pace is something I insisted on,” director Michael Keenan said. “It has to go so fast, the audience never really has a chance to think. For one week during rehearsals, all I said was, ‘Louder, faster, funnier.’ We also did some Italian runs, where you do the play--really acting it--as fast as you can; that sets the standard, and then you slow it down from there. But that came after weeks and weeks of establishing the beats, setting everything in place.”

Orchestrating the action--which includes multiple murder attempts among 10 characters, three hidden passages and innumerable comings and goings--also meant an enormous amount of physical business.

“If you stand at the wrong place at the wrong time, you can be killed,” Keenan quipped. “If you’re doing ‘Hamlet’ or ‘Macbeth,’ you can be relaxed. But farce is tense, difficult. You have to do very technical work and make it look as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

Donna Emett has an actor’s feast in dual roles: as the quickly bumped-off maid Helsa Wenzel and Helsa’s evil brother Dieter, a snarling Nazi who’s running around impersonating his sister.

“It’s great to bring people to tears and move them, but laughter’s really where it’s at for me,” said the actress, who came from New York for this show. “In college, I always played character women and old ladies because I could do dialects, throw my voice different ways, age it.”

The role of Dieter, she added, is enjoyable both in its physicality and below-the-surface intensity: “Dieter is always listening, watching--and so am I. Even when I’m offstage, I stay close, listening to what’s going on.”

Presented under the auspices of M Street Productions, “Musical Comedy Murders” has also served as a happy reunion for Emett and a group of her former classmates at Syracuse University: producer George Miserlis and cast members Sam Lloyd, Mark Snelson and Kevin M. Richardson.

Keenan, who staged a recent revival of “Mr. Roberts” at the Colony, was brought in by cast member Antony Carbone, a fellow instructor at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in Pasadena. Keenan directs two shows a year there, and teaches classes in on-camera acting and stage auditioning.

Raised in San Marino, he got a master’s in fine arts in acting from UCLA, then spent several years in regional theater--at the Asolo in Sarasota, Fla.; San Diego’s Old Globe, South Coast Repertory and Seattle Rep. It was at the Globe that he made his directing debut with “Last Meeting of the Knights of the White Magnolias” in 1975.

“Suddenly I found myself a director and have been doing both ever since,” he said. “I really consider myself a director and am much more comfortable with that. But I don’t turn down the other work.”

The director draws no distinction between the value of “important” drama versus “light” comedy. “I think entertaining people is a noble profession,” he said. “When you’re asking people to plunk down 20 bucks, you have an obligation to present the material as truthfully as possible--whether its ‘Manny, Moe & Jack Meet Santa Claus’ or ‘King Lear.’

“Of course, the approach is different. With a highly technical farce, a lot of energy goes into finding the stage business, making it funny, perfecting the physical comedy, detail work. With a serious piece, tone is more important; if that’s right, detail takes care of itself. I see my own job as head storyteller, responsible to see that the story is told correctly. But I really direct by the seat of my pants: If I’m bored and squirming, I figure the audience will be too.”