“The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940” is, as the title suggests, a comedy
wrapped in a mystery.

But there is no mystery about the intentions of the 11-person ensemble cast
that brings this play to the Mountain: energy and entertainment.

The play is running at the Sandy Actors Theatre – enigmatically huddled
between the break in Hwy. 26 in downtown Sandy, behind a hardware store –
and for a delightful couple hours sweeps us away from the leaden skies of
Oregon winter and deposits us in another time and place: a mansion in
Chappaqua, New York, in 1940.

It’s been said by great artists that there are three important tenants to
staging a play: (1) keep sword play to a minimum; (2) ghosts are more
difficult to stage than one thinks; and (3) make the exposition quick, simple,
unrecognizable and entertaining.

Playwright John Bishop deftly held to the first two. There’s some knife
wielding, but it’s minimal. A shadowy figure is hooded and cloaked in black,
and quite believable.

However, Bishop struggles early in Act I (of two) with the exposition. Indeed,
his task is daunting: introducing 11 characters is not a simple bit of writing
business.

But you hang with it due to the skillful direction of James Bass and the
delightful performances of three particular characters: Helsa Wenzel, played
by Mary Margaret Casteneda, is the mansion’s maid and her Teutonic timbre
is terrifically transmitted. Bernice Roth, played by Anita Clark, is one of two
writers whose overwhelming intent to imbibe makes her delightful to watch.
Roger Hopewell, played by Rhododendron Postmaster Tim Park, is the other
writer and is hilarious as a fussy fidget overcome by the slasher mystery that
unfolds later in Act I.

The play evolves around the notion that three women have been murdered in
a previous play and all the people who have been invited to the Chappaqua
mansion formed the creative team of that play. This “audition” is a setup to
ferret out the murderer.

It’s a wacky group. Besides the maid and two writers, there’s the hostess,
Elsa Von Grossenknueten (played by Erin Hickman); a police officer,
unsuccessfully masquerading as a chauffeur, Michael Kelly (played by Rudy
Wilson); a supposed Irish tenor, Patrick O’Reilly (played by Walter Hobbins);
the director, Ken De La Maize (portrayed by Jim Bumgardner); a singer-
dancer in disguise, Nikki Crandall (played to the hilt by Tora Holmes); a
horrific comedian, Eddie McCuen (intentionally overplayed by Zachary Funk);
the producer, Marjorie Baverstock (played by Melissa Swenson); and, of
course, the stage door slasher.

The plot (and ensuing zany comedy and dizzy conversations – highlighted by
Roth and Hopewell) picks up later in Act I with the maid’s unexplainable
murder drawing into question every character’s character, the revelation of
the labyrinth of hidden passageways in the mansion, and the connection
between the characters and the previous murders.

Act II is a riotous delight. Murderous mayhem ensues, Roth finds solace and
sad emptiness in the cognac bottle (used for temporarily subduing innocent
victims), and Hopewell frets from one frenzy to another.

The mystery is eventually unraveled, but it’s almost unimportant. The
audience is left with the marvelous experience of knowing each and every
character and having lived for a few theatrical moments outside their own
lives, thanks to the ensemble’s efforts, and exit the theatre under the winter
skies, amble past the hardware store, and steer their cars back onto Hwy. 26
and the ordinary reality that they’ve been relieved of – if only for a couple,
precious hours.