Read the instructions, all the instructions, or you might find yourself as a couple of colleagues and I did as we tried to gain entrance to The Speakeasy. Alone in a frozen-in-time clock repair shop in the Tenderloin, we could have been in an Abbott and Costello movie as we tried to open an array of locked doors in mild panic until one of us leaned against a wall in a darkened tool room and the entire partition gave way to the world we were looking for.
We had been satisfied with just finding the place, following a map handed out at a pre-ordained time a few blocks away in the Civic Center, and ended up skipping Steps 6 through 9 on the instruction sheet. But when we bumbled our way into the joint – as in gin joint (modern-day cocktails are also available) – eyes widened at the incredible detail that had gone into recreating a 1923 speakeasy, and that amazement grew as secret passwords signaled that it was time to move into other parts of the labyrinth -- including a nightclub with a band, comics, and singers, and a separate gambling room where dice were rolling, roulette wheels were spinning, and a dealer eventually wiped out my make-believe fortune at a blackjack table.
The extensive, ornate, and clearly expensive environment is definitely the star of The Speakeasy, an ambitious theatrical experience brought to you by the Boxcar Theatre, which usually makes its home in tiny digs on Natoma Street. Created by Nick A. Olivero and his associates with an eye to a long run, the production allows ample time for just taking in the surroundings and general palavering until the lighting changes to direct our attention to actors who are amidst us semi-incognito at little cocktail tables or at the bar. Two veterans of World War I deal with their issues at one table, while a rural couple tries to spice their life with a taste of the forbidden at another.
These and a few other low-key stories periodically arise, amid occasional gangster-moll outbursts, with a couple of large production numbers about the war and the Great Depression that fully command the space, if with heavy-handed tactics. The space mostly outshines the periodic theatrics that can come across as pesky distractions, while the efforts at straight-ahead entertainment from the cabaret stage are definitely a mixed bag. A pair of comics tells stale jokes with a purposeful flatness that quashes laughter, but there are some brighter moments when singers offer full-out renditions of popular period songs.
The visible team presenting The Speakeasy is said to number about 32, but with cast members doubling as hard-working waiters or helpful croupiers, the population seems much greater than that. It seems an exhausting enterprise to present, and there were also signs of some exhaustion from the audience as 11 p.m. approached. Tightening, focusing, and a general theatrical rethinking are in order – and they are definitely worth pursuing when the venue is as astonishing as The Speakeasy.
The Speakeasy is currently selling tickets ($70) through April 26. More info at www.thespeakeasysf.com.