Review: Witty, punchy and profane, Latté Da musical 'Scotland PA' gets in groove at the Ritz

Influenced by '70s rock, the musical comedy has raucous numbers, a stoner chorus and lots of cheek.

By Rohan Preston Star Tribune

September 23, 2024 — 2:18pm

With all due respect to Journey, some folks in "Scotland PA" have stopped believing.

Hemmed in by a terrible boss and with few growth options in their fading town, they despair about the future. Are they wrong to take drastic, even criminal, action to achieve their modest dreams in a milieu where fair is foul and foul is fair?

Whatever your position on the moral dilemma of "Scotland," you may nod your head in agreement because of the groovy music.

A new rock musical by composer Adam Gwon and book writer Michael Mitnick, "Scotland" is now up in a flamingly raucous regional premiere at Theater Latté Da's Ritz Theater, where it runs through Oct. 20.

The staging is the second iteration for a show that premiered in 2019 at New York's Roundabout Theatre. It has been substantially revised with new songs and scenes even as it continues to be tweaked. But what's on offer is clever, funny and unabashedly profane. And it boasts performances that sizzle like burgers in the deep fryer that figures prominently in the story.

Adapted from Billy Morrissette's 2001 film of the same name, "Scotland" resets Shakespeare's "Macbeth" from the 11th-century court of the royal Highlands, where one's destiny may be predetermined at birth, to 20th-century America, where some are wondering if they can still determine their fates with their own actions.

In the narrative, callous restaurant owner Duncan (Timothy Thomas) dies dramatically at his establishment. No one will miss him. In fact, his death means opportunities for workers Mac (Will Dusek) and Pat (Katherine Fried). Mac has an idea for a drive-through and he'll get to have his McDonald's-style restaurant at last (there's some cheeky punning on the golden arches) if he doesn't get caught up in the probe by detective Peg McDuff (sure-footed Emily Gunyou-Halaas).

The transposition of the story from a kingdom with courtly figures to a burger joint with folks who've reached their breaking point provides creative opportunities for a tuneful examination of things like greed, capitalism and hamburgers.

Latté Da's production, directed by Lonny Price and Matt Cowart, courses with electricity. That juice comes courtesy of Gwon's supple score, which is heavily influenced by '70s rock and which occasionally wears its borrowings a little too freely on the sleeves (the instrumentation on one sequence sounds uncannily like Free's "All Right Now").

Mina Kinukawa's scenography, dominated by a large M that changes easily and seamlessly into a forest or a diner with Grant Merges' lighting scheme, also adds to the energy of this telling.

But the biggest joy comes from the performers, who're backed by Sanford Moore's jamming band. Fried soars as Pat, the Lady Macbeth equivalent who helps her beau stiffen his spine. Pat is a figure of clarity and action who understands that in order to get somewhere, you have to "Break Something."

Fried steps into the role with blithe confidence. Her Pat is not trying to influence Mac so much as to compel him to act because of the power of her personality and her hunger.

Ironically, it's Mac who sings "Everybody's hungry and I give them what they want — great big bites of happy in a small-town restaurant." If Dusek seems competent by comparison, it's only because of the juxtaposition with Fried.

Dusek finds Mac's anger and frustration, not only around work but also his stalled expression of love. Still, he could use a little more edge.

The creative team has a lot of fun with the transposition of the action to America. The witches and their spells are now a trio of clairvoyant stoners (Tara Borman, Deidre Cochran and Matt Riehle) who self-medicate while popping up to tell folks their fortunes.

Banko (Tom Reed) is a big ol' dope who seems to be clueless and dumb but is more like the stoners' prophecy of the fool who catches the wise. Reed, the understudy called up at the last minute, is fabulous in the part.

Perhaps the cleverest song in all of "Scotland" is "Why I Love Football," a confessional number by Duncan's son Malcolm (Joshua Row). As he's being interrogated about the death of his father, he explains his passion for the sport with all those men running into one another.

Row nails the witty and wholly contemporary number. And his performance, like those in the rest of the "Scotland," helps make this show a noisy thrill.