THEATER REVIEW : Shaking With Laughter : ‘Fool Moon’ Shines With Spirited Lunacy

There’s a “Fool Moon” over Los Angeles.

Not “full”-- fool . As in “hoot.”

And it’s a crying shame. Don’t clowns Bill Irwin and David Shiner know this is a city in mourning?

But lunacy is no excuse to change the James A. Doolittle Theatre into a fool’s paradise. These are goofs who at the funeral turn sniffles to giggles just by walking in. Their idea of formal attire is a pointed hat, plaid vest and baggy pants. It hurts to laugh, but we can’t help it. They console the survivors while adjusting their toupees. They twitch, stumble, drop canes or open umbrellas in the hearse. They apologize, but then lose control of a leg, twirl in a St. Vitus dance and fall into the grave. Or sneeze into the ashes.

They’re human aftershocks causing seismic laughter. We had a 6.6 on the Richter scale of earthquakes. Now we have a 10.3 in laughter cracking us up. The city can’t take it. Floods, fires, riots, earthquake and now Irwin and Shiner, the two clowns of the apocalypse.

Where’s the National Guard when we need ‘em? Forget looters. These evil twins ain’t PC. Politically correct is a hat held over the heart, not a pointed cap that flies around like Tweety Bird fleeing Sylvester. Arrest these maniacs. They belong on “America’s Most Wanted,” not in Los Angeles.

A quick look at their mug sheets should provide all the evidence needed. Shiner’s a fugitive from some gypsy circus called Cirque du Soleil, who’s been videotaped conducting tape-recorded symphonies. Irwin’s a New Yorker who’s lived out of a trunk ever since escaping the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus Clown College. They first conspired together in New York during Lincoln Center’s “Serious Fun!” festival. But do Southern Californians need “serious fun”?

Critics from less troubled cities called Irwin’s “The Regard of Flight” production “avant-garde vaudeville,” and in 1983 when that show played here it was welcome. Such humor is dangerous now. Last year, Broadway adored “Fool Moon,” but Hollywood’s Doolittle has cracks in its balcony.

Of course, building inspectors may discover these cracks were caused by opening night howls, not by the earthquake. When was the last time that dignified building experienced something like a thousand belly-laughs?

It all began Monday night when Shiner couldn’t find his seat. The usher tried to protect the innocent citizen in the third row, but with limited success. Over the course of the next two hours, Shiner repeatedly returned to humiliate the poor victim. He stole money from another guy’s wallet. Poured tumblers of popcorn from the balcony onto unsuspecting patrons. Stole women’s coats.

The kids in the audience loved it, but what do they know? When Shiner required “volunteers” for a variety of stage crimes--including a slapstick silent movie routine that made this critic cry--the pitiless villain wasted no time in dragging audience members onto the stage. Worse, Shiner mocks us in pantomime, pointing and whistling like Harpo Marx.

Irwin is no innocent bystander. His deadpan expression conceals a devious intent. Irwin’s yo-yo body mutates like computer-generated special effects, a human terminator. He’s not above disguising himself in commedia dell’arte costumes while playing both Harlequin and Pantalone. Normal human beings could not change costumes so quickly, proof of Irwin’s con artistry. But “normal” does not apply to a body that can shrink to midget size, or stretch out like a mushroom-fed Alice in Wonderland. Freud would understand why Irwin is repeatedly dragged helplessly offstage by his own foot into some imaginary black hole; Freud would diagnose such grotesque behavior as neurotic guilt manifesting unconscious escape impulses.

Irwin and Shiner won’t talk. They’ll never confess their crimes because they never speak. But they do make noise with co-conspirators, the Red Clay Ramblers, a dizzy group somehow resembling the defunct Spike Jones band. They play jazz and country and even sing gospel. Is it an accident that these musicians punish us with forgotten songs like “I Crept Into the Crypt and Cried” or “Hiawatha’s Lullaby”?

The Red Clay Ramblers allow Irwin to perform a wicked tango. Such music permits Irwin and Shiner to dance together like Fred Astaire and Mrs. Doubtfire. Do we need such irreverence now?

What the city of the angels needs is disaster relief. When Irwin and Shiner ride a silver moon into a starry night, waving goodby, they leave their audience in tears, mercifully shaken and on the road to recovery.

So brace yourself, Los Angeles. You’re about to get “Fool Moon” struck.

* “Fool Moon,” James A. Doolittle Theatre, 1615 N. Vine St., Hollywood. Tuesday-Saturday, 8 p.m., Saturday-Sunday, 2 p.m. (Call for additional Sunday and matinee show times.) Ends March 27. $15-$46. (213) 365-3500; (714) 740-2000. Running time: 2 hours, 15 minutes. A Center Theatre Group/Ahmanson Theatre production. Set design by Douglas Stein. Costumes by Bill Kellard. Lighting by Nancy Schertler. Sound design by Tom Morse.