MACHOMER
Directed by Sean Lynch. Written and performed by Rick Miller. To Apr 20. TransAlta Arts Barns (10330-84 Ave). Tickets available through Fringe Theatre Adventures (448-9000/www.fringetheatreadventures.ca).

What began as a backstage joke at a performance of Macbeth 12 years ago has turned into something of a goldmine for actor Rick Miller.

Melding voices from The Simpsons with the script from Macbeth might seem like a hamhanded proposition—not too far removed from the Fringe actors who performed episodes of Gilligan’s Island while dressed as beatniks, but Miller has taken the concept much farther than that. Worldwide praise for the dizzyingly paced, 75-minute theatre/cartoon mashup has kept the concept commercially viable for the Montreal-based thespian, but it’s the sly underlying message that makes it more than a one-note joke. 

Of course it really is a one-note joke, though Miller’s not-so-subtle comment on the intersection between pop culture and high art—wrapped up in a little musical number at the end—gives it a bit more punch. In truth, he really didn’t need to do this to make MacHomer work—Miller could’ve just coasted on his close-to-perfect mastery of practically every one of Matt Groening’s creations and it would’ve flown, though the immediate guilty pleasure in hearing such familiar voices desecrating the Bard would’ve waned much more quickly if he hadn’t. 

Fifty-four Simpsons characters make appearances in MacHomer, from perennial second and third bananas like Jasper and Hans Moleman to the expected Homer (“MacHomie” to his wife), Barney, Smithers and Mr. Burns. Marge is, of course, Lady Macbeth, while irritating neighbour Ned Flanders plays Banquo in the same milquetoast manner with which he presides over the Leftorium. Mr. Burns can only be Duncan, King of Scotland, while his infatuated aide Smithers is Malcolm, the king’s eldest son—which gives Smithers’ unrequited love for his boss an incestuous twist. 

The jokes—some culled from the series, others consisting of jabs directed at other cartoons, television, and Shakespeare in general—are broad at times, sly at others. The dialogue moves so fast that often comprehension dawns a beat or two later, while other lines land somewhat clumsily. The residents of Springfield drop in and out of their roles, forgetting chunks of speeches, their personalities coming out at odd moments—Homer’s “Is this a dagger I see before me... or a pizza?” is probably one of the most-quoted lines. The best parts are the ones that nail the characters speaking through their parts—Homer turning to eagerly make shadow puppets of killer dogs against the wall as his explanation for the death of Duncan, or Barney sliding into an alcoholic reverie while breaking down at the murder of his family. 

MacHomer has grown in technical sophistication since its original Fringe version more than a decade ago, but Miller still keeps it a fairly basic production: video screen (with animation), smoke machine, video camera, cardboard puppets. All excellent additions, but in the end it comes down to Miller’s relentless pacing and uncanny ability to slide between voices and personas, for which the man deserves Kodos. Er—I mean kudos.