Imagine a world in which pornography is completely illegal and the only way to obtain it is to order it by mail from Scandinavia. No, this is not some strange dystopian society. It's Britain in the 1970s - the setting of Play On! Theatre's frenetic farce No Sex Please, We're British. The play centers on Peter (Eamon Hyland) and Frances (Jesse Holman), a newlywed couple living quietly in London until one day, Frances innocently sends away for some Scandinavian glassware. But instead of receiving a set of prim china cups, their apartment becomes flooded with packages of scandalous Scandinavian pornography. The action of the play follows the couple and their neighbor accomplice, Brian (Clayton Greiman), as they scramble to hide the floods of pornography - and eventually, prostitutes - from a host of characters, among them Peter's boss, a bank inspector, a meddling mother-in-law, and of course, the police.
The set in which all of this hullabaloo takes place was brilliantly constructed - a slice of the inside of an apartment like the models of rooms you find in Home Depot, only with hideous bright yellow and pea green wallpaper and furniture that would make an interior designer die on the spot. The cast all played their parts with conviction and enthusiasm, particularly Hyland and Holman as the likable newlyweds. But it was the character of their obnoxious, constantly panicking friend Brian who truly stole the show - and not in a good way. His caricature-level overacting, while intended to be comedic, only succeeded in making me want to throw things at him whenever he cavorted onto the stage, leaping about, gesticulating wildly and making faces at the audience like a trained monkey.
Otherwise, however, the play was often quite funny, eliciting constant grins if not side-splitting laughter. Unfortunately, because the plot thrives on commotion, the manic pace and forever-frenzied characters leave the audience feeling constantly overwhelmed by it all. By the end of the play, I felt half-deafened by the cacophony of doors slamming and characters bursting noisily into tears and shrieking at each other in a high-pitched panic.
How much you would enjoy this play really depends upon your feelings toward British humor. Perhaps, like me, you will find all of the slapstick gags and general chaos to be a bit too much like a cartoon to your liking. If you're a diehard fan of Monty Python-esque humor, though, there's a good chance you'll leave the theater laughing uproariously and quoting lines in your terrible rendition of a British accent.
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