‘Old and In the Way: A Pantomime Featuring Molemo!’ @ Hip Pocket Theatre
—Jan Farrington
Oh, Molemo, long time no see.
And how like you, bad bearded old trickster, to lure us into the woods once again, promising panto and commedia—only to make us cry.
In truth, there was some pantomime, with a few memory-stirring touches of commedia dell’arte, that rowdy Italian take on life as an endless source of snarky amusement. But at bottom (and the bottom was wearing Christmas boxer shorts at the start) this was a meditation on the indignities of getting Old and In The Way—and a brief but heartfelt history of a half-century of theater that began with pulling a few dollars from their “hip pockets” to start things rolling.
We learned that Molemo (only one aspect of the man onstage, HPT co-founder Johnny Simons, performing after long absence) puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us. These days, his struggles with a pair of bell-bottomed blue jeans are heroic and sad—until his grin of triumph changes the weather. And he adds a dose of comedy to his next task, the daily tedium of the medicine bottles.
In Hip Pocket lore, Molemo was (and is) the commedia character created long ago by Simons, who played him in numerous productions over the years. Sometimes a villain (at least he’s drawn that way, as Jessica Rabbit might say), he’s a slippery, conniving sort set against other more virtuous (or gullible) commedia characters. In his doctoral dissertation on Simons’ work, former HPT actor/director Tony Medlin says Simons “relocated the Commedia characters to ‘deep in the heart of Texas,’” creating a zany, physical version of Southwestern “commedia” that took the troupe traveling to the Kimbell Museum, Duke University, and the Edinburgh Festival, among other gigs.
Simons, who took ballet as a Fort Worth boy recovering from polio, majored in ballet and theater at TCU, studying movement under David Preston. He “found” actors everywhere, and created a “rough” theater style rooted in the surroundings, and (as Simons said late in the program) “homemade, handmade, unpretentious.”
He could be a difficult, demanding, meticulous director, rehearsing the actors’ movements until they were burned into muscle memory. YouTube videos can give us a glimpse: I particularly recommend the film of a rehearsal for the company’s Tales of the Arabian Nights at the Kimbell—one of the few times in the 47-year history the Hip performed indoors. ( https://www.google.com/search?q=video+hip+pocket+theatre+arabian+nights+youtube&rlz=1C1RXQR_enUS932US932&oq=video+HIP+POCKET+THEATRE+Arabian+Nights&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j33i160l2j33i299.16464j0j15&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:63d075de,vid:b8EA-Qk1vqk,st:0 )
But back to the evening at hand. Simons kept things simple—from the opening, meant to illustrate his transition, as he said, from “yout(h)” to “coot”, he moved into classic Hip Pocket themes, revisiting a story or three from his growing up years by Lake Worth, and summer weeks spent with MeeMaw, who called him “Sugar” and took him to church three times (or was it four?) on Sunday. “I became a closet Southern Baptist,” he said with a smile.
He spoke of the founding of the theater in the courtyard of an old converted motel off Highway 80, and of the essential spirits who were with him: first his wife Diane, whose magnificent costumes were exhibited at the Kimbell after at least one production—that’s how good the museum staff thought they were…composer Douglas Balentine, a school kid who grew into Simons’ “brother” (together they created the music that made HPT’s shows so memorable)…and others, among them Jimmy Joe Steenburgen, a country preacher who came in to read for the role of Long John Silver, and pretty much never left.
And Simons spoke of death—refusing the trope of the skeletal, robed Reaper—and instead looking forward to a beautiful girl (who else?) coming to waltz him away to the next act.
And to no one’s surprise, she came—stroking his cheek, and straightening Simons bent torso for a moment into the long, tall, Texan. There was a dance, a smile, a flash of bright eyes as he passed through the curtain. And that was that.
The hour onstage could be seen, if you were so inclined, as no more than a sad shadow of the past—but sadness wasn’t the vibe at all. Nearly a half-century of memories floated almost visibly in the air, among the crowd of mostly longtime Hip Pocketeers. It was good to see him again, to think of the fun and the losses that marked all that time.
What a long, crazy, aren’t-we-lucky-to-live-here trip. And here we were, still in the woods, with Lake Worth and its monster so close you could sniff them. And waiting for the next show.
WHEN: September 15-17
WHERE: 1950 Silver Creek Road, Fort Worth
WEB: hippocket.org
