Isaac Smith, Sarah Goodall, Amelia Fischer, and Keenen Wilson in Dojo to Go
If anyone can parody a parody -- along with its early roots, its subsequent wannabes, plus a bunch of random stuff -- it's Calvin Vo and T Green, founders of the theatrical troupe Haus of Ruckus, and their posse of benign troublemakers. They do so spectacularly in Dojo to Go, now running at St. Ambrose University's Studio Theatre, written by the prodigious pair and directed by Vo.
How deep do these fabled roots go? The first pizza delivery in 1889 Italy? Ninjas debuting in England's 1967 Bond film You Only Live Twice? America's kung-fu film craze, kicked off by Hong Kong's Bruce Lee in 1971's Fists of Fury? Sure; why not? And in 1984, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles began as a spoof mashup of Marvel's X-Men mutants and ninja Daredevil, plus DC Comics' Teen Titans. TMNT comic books bred miles of merch, an animated series – and, this year, helped spawn Dojo to Go. This is Haus of Ruckus' 15th production since 2021 – that includes three Ambrosian partnerships, three ancient-Greek-comedy Genesius Guild collaborations, a 24-hour play project, A Very Ruckus Holiday Special, and seven more plays besides. If their creativity and energy could be bottled like organic juice shots, I'd stand in line for hours for some of that. In this current offering, misfit teens battle oversize mutant animals – not so much to save the world, or even Gotham, but because they have to deliver to-go orders within an hour. (It's a tall order in any city, and especially in the one that never sleeps.)
These teens are timid Sadie (Amelia Fischer), whose determination to persist despite her fear is un-ironically inspiring; baseball-loving Mayfield (Sarah Goodall – her fluidity and prowess in every role always impresses); karate kick-ass Randall (Keenen Wilson), whom I'd want on my side in any fight; and "weird kid" Rufus (Isaac Smith), whose constant one-third smile conveys both geniality and endearing confusion. Vo plays Chubby Louie, a cranky yet affable Brooklyn restaurant owner, who endlessly snipes at one of his underlings and arbitrarily promotes the other. Vo also plays Nữ Hoàng (Vietnamese for "Queen"), a neon-green, swirling-smoke, vampiric entity who absorbs the essences of innocent souls to gain power, like The Little Mermaid's Ursula. For me, however, Nữ Hoàng's beautiful wickedness in physical form evokes the aspiring Earth-conqueror Rita Repulsa from Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. Whether that was the playwrights' intention, or because I have a girl-crush on Rita and everything reminds me of her, I'm unsure.
Brooklyn Animal Control officers – the wrathful Candy (Green), who wields a riding crop, and the peaceful Leroy (Max Robnett), who wields a bag of potato chips – enter periodically to menace the teens, and occasionally, the mutants. These mutants include Pigeonja (rhymes with "ninja"), portrayed by the extraordinarily nimble, break-dancing Zach Ulmer; Whiff (Andres Garcia), a physically powerful and skateboard-adept, yet inherently disgusting skunk; and the skulking, menacing Dojo Cat (Ebby Barber) – imagine Catwoman as a kitten – whose glittery nails are on point, so to speak. (For those like me whose pop-cultural literacy stalled around 2002, her name is a play on rapper Doja Cat.) Rikki Lake (Esther Windt) is a mutated goldfish who has the traditional short-term-memory loss and an unexpected history with one of the teens, evoking both sympathy and hilarity. (It's actually quite sweet.) The infernal fly-guys are puppets designed by Vo, roughly cockatoo-sized, and which, in Haus of Ruckus tradition, are operated by actors who move about the stage expressing their characters' attitudes facially and bodily, not just with one puppeted hand. They are Midge (Megan Rohn), Gnat (week 1, Callie Thomas; week 2, Ava Melvin), and Lester (David Weaver).
Haus of Ruckus has a knack for intertwining smart and silly. For example, in Japanese, a dojo is a training space. Here, Randall's martial-arts center is actually named after its founder Ken Dojo. Another for-instance: the absurd Robinesque exclamation "Holy San Luis Obispo!" The visual and sound technical aspects are tasty toppings for the whole bowlful of this flavorful pho. Dojo to Go's scenic and lighting designer, St. Ambrose theatre instructor Aaron Hook, created a versatile set, with its simply sketched bricks matching Vo's pastel comic-book-look scenic projections, complete with Ben-Day dots. (Blows landing in fights, meanwhile, are enhanced by offstage "whaps.") Some of the character transformations happen onstage through the magic of acting, and sometimes through wires. A delivery robot is played by an actual robot. (It's a radio-controlled truck, but same diff.) Also, Amy Rotramel's makeup and hair design and Juliette Carizey's costumes create satisfyingly full character looks, be they people, critters, or indeterminate.
K-pop pioneers Seo Taiji and Boys have contributed to Ruckus' pre-show music before, but I particularly loved hearing 1992's "I Know" on Friday's opening night, its dance-worthy bounce punctuated by boy-band harmonies, rap, and chugging metal guitar. It turned out to be an apt expression of the amalgam of incongruous big and small multicultural influences that enliven this whole production. Experience all this – plus, learn animal facts – during Dojo to Go.
Dojo to Go runs in the Studio Theatre of St. Ambrose University's Galvin Fine Arts Center (2101 North Gaines Street, Davenport IA) through November 24, and more information and tickets are available by calling (563)333-6251 and visiting the company's Facebook page.
