Ingrid Allstrom
Editor in Chief
Review
Below the Belt, an off-Broadway comedy that rings true to every "company" man or woman, takes white-collar corporate hell to a new level. Stages Repertory Theatre's rendition of Richard Dressler's satirical look at a dying way of life touches everyone who has ever had to deal with a maniacally divisive boss, an ambitious brown-noser or an unbearable workplace.
It does not so much chronicle the lives of three men climbing the mythical ladder as represent the fact that, even though the working world has changed, the status quo has not.
The show opens as the over-eager Dobbitt (Jim Parsons) reports to work in an unnamed company at a factory making some mysterious product in a foreign desert. He is greeted by his conniving boss Merkin (the wickedly funny Jerry Miller), who gets his only kicks by stamping "VOID" on company documents, and a bitter old "Company Man," Hanrahan (Rutherford Cravens). Hanrahan seems to sense this little creep is going to take his position and begins immediately trying to cause Dobbitt enough trouble so as to effectively drive him away.
Dobbitt and Hanrahan are "checkers," and when Dobbitt asks what exactly they are checking, his new boss and coworker laugh maniacally. The audience never really does find out.
Dobbitt and Hanrahan squabble and fight over what seem to be petty issues - who will sleep in what bed in their small shared room, who will be summoned to the boss by what beep, who will look at what side of the river in the evening and, most importantly, who will sit and who will stand in Merkin's office. This seems to signify every petty power struggle in every far corner of every corporation.
But Below the Belt takes it further, suggesting that every workplace is as isolated (and as hilariously insignificant) as these three men are in this foreign desert.
While the two never become friends exactly, Hanrahan and Dobbitt eventually form a fragile alliance against Merkin's divisive tactics, agreeing to be honest with one another about their evil boss.
When Merkin becomes a hero for inadvertently putting out a fire (the river actually caught on fire), they think that Merkin will finally get "kicked upstairs," and they will be free to run things as they wish. He has, Hanrahan says, "blundered on a colossal scale," the surest means of "advancement" in their or any company. We are, he says, "crippled by our competence."
But when Merkin convinces Dobbitt to forge a letter from Hanrahan's wife, Dobbitt seals all of their fates and locks them into the same cold corporate cycle that holds no hope of escape.
The play very effectively compares the corporate world to a prison, which is easy as they are fenced in with armed guards. The assumption is that the guards are there to protect them, but the comparison becomes especially powerful when Hanrahan attempts to leave but never does.
Probably the most delightful performance is that of Cravens as Hanrahan. He embodies the culture that existed when cradle-to-grave security was still a reality and before a college degree was required for anything more complicated than flipping burgers.
Set designer Thom Guthrie's setup seemed at first to be restrictive, but he ably sets up a very closed-feeling, aesthetically empty, cold set without obstructing any view in the arena-style theater. The two rooms - Merkin's office and the shared living space - are cutaway sheet metal connected by a mostly metal bridge over the desolate, rocky "river."
This devilishly funny rendition of Below the Belt will be playing at Stages Repertory Theatre (3201 Allen Parkway) through May 17. Shows are at 8 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday and 3 p.m. Sunday. Tickets are $15 to $28, with student tickets available 10 minutes before curtain for $5. For information call (713) 52-STAGE.