Taylor Iman Jones (left) as Pat McBeth, with her husband Mac (Ryan McCartan), in Scotland, PA.
Greasy fast food certainly takes its toll on the health of Americans, but it’s not usually so direct as death by Fry-O-Later. Such is the grisly fate of Duncan, at the hands of Mac and Pat McBeth, in Roundabout Theatre Company’s production of Scotland, PA, a musical adaptation of Billy Morrissette’s 2001 film, which was a dark-comic send-up of 1970s Middle America using the plot of Macbeth in a fast-food setting.
Morrissette’s seemingly forgotten film has, according to the press material for this show, taken on a cult following, and finds new life through Adam Gwon’s music and lyrics and a book by Michael Mitnick. Under Lonny Price’s direction, with choreography by Josh Rhodes, Scotland, PA is a polished and pleasant entertainment, but not one likely to stick in your mind for long after leaving the Laura Pels Theatre. Like the film—which fetishizes the 1970s aesthetic, using Shakespearean parallels for some high-culture meets low-culture laughs—the musical stays on the surface, with characters who rarely emerge as more than types. This tone is set by Mitnick’s book, which never shies away from the most obvious jokes.
Mac with the three stoners (from left: Kaleb Wells, Wonu Ogunfowora, and Alysha Umphress). Photographs by Nina Goodheart.
Scotland, PA is strangely antiseptic for a gory tale of murder and ambition. At times it seems to want to be edgy or over-the-top or deeply irreverent, but it doesn’t commit; at other moments it seems to want raw emotion, but it never unnerves or unsettles. As one of the “stoners” (the stand-ins for Shakespeare’s Weird Sisters, or witches) says after the graphic demise of the protagonist Mac (Ryan McCartan): “Bummer.” That’s about the emotional extreme of the would-be tragedy.
The story hews to Shakespeare’s Macbeth in the most general way. Scotland is no aristocratic setting, though: the town is “a run-down, working-class blip on the map” in the woods of Pennsylvania, which hover over much of the action via moving panels dotted with trees. Duncan (Jeb Brown), the owner of the burger joint that bears his name, is not a benevolent and just leader, like Shakespeare’s king. He’s a monster: hated by his son, verbally abusive to his employees while paying them a pittance, and, according to his son, physically violent toward his wife.
“Mac’s ideas make the restaurant a huge local hit, but he has global ambitions, and eventually becomes power crazy—and you know the rest.”
Mac is an affable loser whose many prescient ideas—a drive-through window, chicken nuggets, etc.—are soundly rejected by the shortsighted Duncan. After a cryptic tip from the three stoners, described as the voices in Mac’s brain, the restaurant manager is fired for stealing. Though Mac uncovered the theft, he is passed over for promotion. Pat (Taylor Iman Jones), realizing she and her husband could be stuck in a dead-end life forever, suggests robbing the restaurant’s safe. The robbery goes badly, Duncan ends up face down in the Fry-O-Later, and Mac takes over the restaurant, rebranding it McBeth’s, complete with a golden M, a red-and-yellow color scheme, and a clown mascot (Anna Louizos’s set design and Tracy Christensen’s costumes capture the vintage garishness).
Mac’s ideas make the restaurant a huge local hit, but he has global ambitions, and eventually becomes power crazy—and you know the rest (it’s “destiny, baby,” as the stoners say). Other characters include the Beavis and Butthead–like Banko (Jay Armstrong Johnson), Mac’s best friend; Malcolm (Will Meyers), Duncan’s hostile 17-year-old son; and Peg McDuff (Megan Lawrence), a gleefully morbid homicide detective from Harrisburg, who is set apart not because she is not “of woman born” but because she doesn’t eat meat.
The dim-witted Banko (Jay Armstrong Johnson), Mac’s co-worker, sings “Kick-Ass Party.”
Perhaps because the show’s tone borders on the cartoonish, the songs sometimes don’t feel rooted in character, and the moral or human stakes of the story are never clearly felt. There are two notable exceptions: Pat’s first number, “What We’ve Got,” is a poignant account of a life stalled and yearning for something meaningful, which Jones sings with nuance and conviction. And Malcolm’s Act II number “Why I Love Football” is a surprising, funny, and tender depiction of adolescent love that opens up and expands the character, rather than simply going through the narrative motions.
Scotland, PA plays it safe, with laugh-lines that could be followed by a laugh track and characters that rarely challenge or surprise. It’s an enjoyable experience, but it can’t escape the feeling that something urgent is missing.
Scotland, PA runs through Dec. 8 at Roundabout Theatre Company’s Laura Pels Theatre (111 West 46th St.). Evening performances are at 7:30 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday; matinees are 2 p.m. on Wednesday and Saturday, and 3 p.m. on Sunday. For tickets, call (212) 719-1300 or visit roundabouttheatre.org.
