Thought on Valhalla

What do King Ludwig II and a small town in Texas have in common? Not much, as it turns out. So goes Valhalla, the new play by Paul Rudnick; it's an often funny piece of sound and fury signifying nothing.

Don't get me wrong - I don't mind a fun night out at theater, and I've enjoyed Rudnick's previous work. (I still giggle over the Stage Manager in The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told.) Valhalla seems to be striving for some Big Meaning in the twinned stories of fabulous, gay Ludwig and fabulous, gay James Avery that never quite comes across. I'm not certain what connection exists between these two characters, although the plays veers into I Am My Own Wife territory when the eccentric German inspires the contemporary protagonist. I kept expecting miniature furniture, but it never appeared.

However, director Christopher Ashley has assembed a crack cast of comic actors, and the production as a whole is charming, if slight. Peter Frechette is fantastic, and Sean Dugan makes a wonderful bad boy, even if he does look disarmingly like a young Paul McCrane. He's Montgomery MacNeil with a police record.