Magnum farce The Lyric gets Noises Off just right BY IRIS FANGER
	Noises Off By Michael Frayn. Directed by Spiro Veloudos. Set by Robert M. Russo. Costumes by David Cabral. Lighting by Eleanor Moore. With Barlow Adamson, Neil A. Casey, Sarah deLima, Jessica Healy, Bob Jolly, Jeremiah Kissel, David Krinitt, Kristen Sergeant, and Maryann Zschau. At the Lyric Stage Company of Boston through June 5.

Of all the navel-gazing comedies, tragedies, and films about the privileged folks who spend their days and nights playing make-believe for a living, surely British writer Michael Frayn’s 1982 comic wonder Noises Off is the most engaging. With the surest of skill sets for farce and the most loving manner of revealing the secrets of the profession, Frayn invents a troupe of hapless actors on a third-rate tour in the British provinces, about as far from the West End stages of London as can be imagined. These folks are the bruised, the burned-out, and the also-rans of British Equity, but they’re clueless about their inabilities. The play pokes fun not only at them but also at the audiences that buy into the hokum they’re trying to present.

Noises Off is divided into three acts, each identified as "act one." We’re introduced to the cast of Nothing On, one of those British comedies in the vein of the long-running hit No Sex Please, We’re British that deals in hanky-panky, broad winks, and people sneaking into empty bedrooms. Noises Off is the dramatic structure wrapped around the invented Nothing On. Here Frayn employs the old play-within-a-play structure, and that’s part of the fun, along with the gag of dispersing real actors in the roles of fictional actors. The first "act one" takes place at a disastrous dress rehearsal of the sex farce; the second is set backstage a month later, after the company has started its tour; the last occurs seven weeks later, on closing night.

The proverbial personality types of the stage are on hand, with all their twits and twitches. Dotty Olney, an over-the-hill star who wants to put something more by for her old age, even though she can no longer remember her lines. Garry Lejeune, an actor with an attitude who is having it on with Dotty. Brooke Ashton, the sex kitten who spends most of the evening in her bra, panties, and garters as a treat for the pensioners filling the matinee seats. Frederick Fellowes, a Stanislavsky acolyte seeking a motive for every action. Belinda Blair, the busybody ray of sunshine. And Selsdon Mowbray, an aging actor who hides bottles around the set. This theatrical menagerie is kept (barely) under control by director Lloyd Dallas, an egomaniac with a short temper and a long reach for the girls, including Brooke and Poppy, the hapless assistant director. The Dickensian-named Tim Allgood triples as set carpenter, stage manager, and general understudy.

As director Spiro Veloudos observes in his program note, "Comedy is tough," and he knows whereof he speaks. Fortunately, he’s as clever and astute as Lloyd Dallas is muddled and long-suffering. The misbegotten souls on stage stumble through the run of Nothing On with the lines and stage business growing more ragged as time passes on the road. And their close proximity for weeks on end does nothing to improve the relationships of this tight little band. Veloudos’s fine cast of clowns is led by Jeremiah Kissel as Lloyd, Kristin Sergeant as yoga-head Brooke, and Bob Jolly as the endearingly cheerful but potted Selsdon. Neil A. Casey is excellent as the know-it-all Garry; Barlow Adamson as Frederick faints dependably at the sight of blood; and Sarah deLima is appropriately dotty as Dotty. Maryann Zschau as Belinda, the Good Fairy, applies a lyrical lilt her condescending intrusions. David Krinitt as the all-purpose Tim Allgood wins the Purple Heart for bravery in the face of an improbable part.

As befits farce, the inanimate objects tell the story as surely as the actors. Designer Robert M. Russo’s set turns itself inside out on cue. Equally important are the various props, particularly a quartet of plates filled with sardines, a sextet of slamming doors, and one grease spot on the floor excellently suited to pratfalls. And the Lyric’s program for Noises Off encloses another for Nothing On, the latter filled with parody bios of the actor characters that strike perilously close to those of the real cast.