Hard Sell is everything but
David Berry – Vue March 15-21

If “Fringe play” isn’t already an established sub-genre of theatre, we need to get on the case of whoever it is that classifies the species of art.

Not plays that show at a Fringe, mind you, but plays built specifically for the ADHD summertime theatre set. Modest production values; quick, crackling pace; generally leaning on comedy and/or outrageousness of some kind over contemplation: these plays are made to be watched in (hopefully) air-conditioned theatres while salivating over beer gardens and elephant ears – in-out, laugh-gasps, clap cheer and do it all again in 15 minutes.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that particular format – I only bring it up because, as far as exemplars of the Fringe play go, Craig Baxter’s Hard Sell might as well be a textbook. Though Trevor Schmidt’s NLT production has gussied up the values considerably – and to pleasing effect – this play, with its hard-boiled cops at each other’s throats, half-gimmicky role-playing to solve a murder case and closing-in-on-the-top spitting obscenity, is like early summertime, with the aimless kind of fun that implies.

It’s not to say there’s nothing extra going on in Hard Sell – there’s a little bit of meta commentary on acting, and some perfunctory stabs at class dynamics – but nevertheless the broader the better, something Schmidt seems to realize to full effect.

Dave Clarke’s Detective Sergeant Filth, the lead investigator in this murder mystery, is an overcooked asshole, equally at home masturbating the change in his pocket while he breathes down the neck of his pretty, silent witness as he is firing shots across his partner’s, Detective Constable Pig’s (Mark Stubbings), bow, from questioning his sexuality to bastardizing the syllables in cun-stable.

Stubbings took a bit longer to get a bead on his uptight dogooder, likely because he had less to play with through the first half, but he settled in admirably, bubbling up with the right amount of seething to make exchanges uncomfortable but still maintaining a soft enough side to make a speech about his deceased mother hit the heart (all the more admirable considering most of the play is aimed at the groin).
The centerpiece is an extended role-laying sequence wherein Pig and Filth act out the various principles in an effort to solve the crime – it’s readily apparent all three men had plenty of fun putting together this sequence. From Filth alternatively hitting on and portraying a slinky, Sharon Stone-esque witness to Pig increasingly playing with his lead detective’s thick head, these scenes crack like the best of high-impact Fringe drama, fun and ominous all at once.

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