"Shucked" Chicago review: A cornucopia of laugh-out-loud comedy
If you are a certain age, you surely recall "Hee Haw," the 1969-92 TV variety show consisting of twanging country music acts and skits stuffed with groan-worthy double entendres that made the “Dating Game” look like Shakespeare.
“Hee Haw” hasn’t aged particularly well, as the authors of “Shucked” discovered when they debuted “Moonshine! The Hee Haw Musical” in 2016. That show largely vanished after a short run in Texas. But its spirit remains in “Shucked,” created by the same team: Tony-winning author Robert Horn (book) and country music hitmakers Brandy Clark and Shane McAnally (music and lyrics). This countryfried hootenanny of a musical running through January 19 at the Loop’s CIBC Theatre is worth lending your ears to.
“Shucked,” which opened Wednesday night, runs on pun- and/or corn-based jokes so stupid and/or puerile that you’ll laugh, sometimes involuntarily. But unlike the dated content of “Hee Haw,” “Shucked” has got a 21st century sensibility roasted into its “farm-to-fable” tale.
The script is flush with musical theater references — “The Music Man,” “Brigadoon,” “Oklahoma!” and a hint of the Wizard from “The Wizard of Oz” — among them. Despite the onslaught of winking parody/homage, “Shucked” remains the rarest of the rare in terms of new musicals: A show that is actually new, rather than an adaptation of existing material or a retread revival.
Moreover, Tony-winning director Jack O’Brien’s ensemble sells the often whackadoodle humor like the rent was due last week. In this, the season of bitter cold and doomscrolling, “Shucked” warms the heart like a slug of corn whiskey.
The plot is husk-thin. Cob County is home to a community that lives in “perfect hominy,” surrounded by a wall of corn. In this town, we are told, “Roe versus Wade” is “a debate about the best way to cross a small river.” Badum dum! Like much of the wordplay in “Shucked,” it’s a joke that hits a bullseye in the infinitesimally tiny intersection of stupid, subversive, offensive and hilarious.
Alas, one day there is a great corn die-off, prompting plucky ingenue Maizy (Danielle Wade, radiating star power throughout), to light out to the big city to get help.
The big city, as it turns out, is Tampa. There, Maizy finds Gordy (Quinn VanAntwerp channeling "Music Man" Harold Hill but with the velvet croon of a Jersey Boy), a “corn doctor” who is actually a con man posing as a podiatrist.
Maizy thinks Gordy is a doctor for ailing corn plants and brings him home to save the town. Hilarity ensues as Maizy’s macho, possessive fiancé Beau (Jake Odmark, all achy-breaky heart and glorious money notes on the yearning “Somebody Will”) and her wise, skeptical cousin Lulu (Miki Abraham, stopping the show with the magnificent “Independently Owned”) tangle with city slicker Gordy.
Meanwhile, the town’s supporting cast of country bumpkins and a pair of storytellers with impeccable timing (Maya Lagerstam as Storyteller 1, Tyler Joseph Ellis as Storyteller 2) deliver some of the dumbest and best comedy you’ll see on a musical theater stage this season.
Clark and McAnally’s score, while pleasant and energetic, (the searing power of “Independently Owned” aside), isn’t terribly memorable. Little matter. The cast is good enough to turn pleasant into outstanding. And the fast-flying lyrics are worth paying close attention to. In its titular number, “Shucked” covers 7,000 years of corn history, with a special shoutout to Columbus for bringing “syphilis and smallpox” to the New World and painter Norman Rockwell for featuring corn on many of his various canvases.
Sarah O’Gleby’s choreography is a hoot, from the corn cob kickline of “Corn” to the stomping, peacocking menfolk of “Best Man Wins.” Scott Pask’s massive, tilting barn of a set is a clever merger of projections and construction, although the great corn die-off is underwhelming and possibly not visible to anybody not in the premium seats.
Costumer designer Tilly Grimes has Gordy in a "Miami Vice" homage of a pastel suit and the balance of the cast in various shades of patched denim and checks, completing the show’s bright, storybook aesthetic.
Puns are allegedly the lowest form of humor. True or not, they make “Shucked” a corny delight.