
Above Doug Proctor and Megan Heffernan on the cover of the Weekend Spotlight.
Below Megan Hefferman, left, Marne Wills-Cuellar and Doug Proctor take part in Death for Dinner,
a mystery dinner play by Marne Productions. Mystery dinner theater is more popular than ever, as
the audience gets the chance to escape the television and the everyday grind to help figure
out—and even take part in—a classic whodunit.
Photos by Dennis Schroeder Rocky Mountain News
Inhibitions left at the door
For those hungry for the spotlight - and there's plenty of them - dinner theater
is the place to be. The lady at table No. 9 says it's
her birthday, and she's celebrating by injecting herself in the story. She
claims to be the victim's betrayed lover, and in a fit of rage she's ripped up
half of the clues, necessary components in solving the case.
There's competition for stardom at nearly every table. Two women at table No. 3
yell at the actors. “You're the murderer!” At the same table, a woman wearing a
tiara claims to have been engaged to the deceased and is seeking retribution.
“We have no idea what's going to happen,” says David Hardison, aka Cliff
Worthington in Death For Dinner. “We're trying to get an idea of who the people
are and involve and bring them into the show. I'd never seen anybody tear up
clues like that.”
“You have people who are really sheets to the wind,” says Mark Corrigan, an
improv actor who plays a maintenance man in Death For Dinner. “Sometimes if you
have somebody who's really obnoxious it's not easy.”
“Murder truly an art”
Wills-Cuellar says. “My kids think it's hilarious. I spend most of my
time trying to think of ways to kill people. But it is kind of fun to figure out
what motivates people and, for me, I like to study people.”
She bases most of her characters on people she's known or experiences she has
had. The script is meant to be a guideline, and the actors are encouraged to be
creative.
In Marne Interactive's Death For Dinner, Corrigan transforms into C.J. Hamer, a
seemingly simple-minded maintenance man. His constant companions are a yellow
toolbox and a nervous stutter.
“He's the guy who lives next door that's just the nicest guy in the world that
you can't imagine would do this,” says Wills-Cuellar.
But looks can be deceiving. For laughs, Corrigan pulls off brilliant impressions
of Bill Clinton, The Godfather and Sam Kinison. He unveils Hamer's maniacal side
when he introduces the audience to his best friend, a knockoff Howdy Doody
puppet. Among the many items implicating each character - a fork, a prescription
of heart pills replaced with Tic-tacs, a blue glass of water - is one of Hamer's
electric tools.
“We all have to just think on our feet,” Corrigan says. “Every character writes
their own show.”
Some of the best improvisation happens behind the scenes. When one of the
actresses forgot her script in the bathroom and discovered it was floating
around the audience, the group quickly adjusted their characters and picked a
new murderer. And when the lock on the bathroom door broke, it was C.J. Hamer,
the fictional maintenance man, who came to the rescue by climbing through a
window from outside the hotel. They can't teach you that at Juilliard.
Helping people get in touch
Wills-Cuellar says it's not necessarily murder that makes crowds come to Adams Mystery Playhouse where mysteries unfold.
In a society more in touch with Homer Simpson than their next-door neighbors,
murder mystery theater is taking people away from their TV and computer monitors
and putting them back in touch with real people.
“People want to be able to participate in something,” Wills-Cuellar says. “I
feel like we see that with the interactive video games, interactive things on
the computer and renaissance festivals: the humanness of getting back to not
being quite so isolated - rubbing elbows with folks.”