Crumpet is a real man underneath his puffball hat and velvet vest. He is newly arrived in New York, out of money and staggering under the reality that the cast of One Life to Live have not yet invited him to dinner, and probably aren’t going to. When he realizes that he is only a few dollars away from handing out pamphlets on a street corner dressed as a French fry, he seeks a place working at Macy’s, inside their legendary Santaland, as an elf.
What follows is a grueling month of Santas with delusions of grandeur, miserable children, horrific parents, and the endless indignities of elfdom. Grueling perhaps, for Crumpet, sitting splayed upon a joyously decorated stage, but cathartic and hilarious for anyone hearing him recount it.
Stage veteran Wade McCollum is Crumpet the Elf, our guide through the horrendous cotton-candy maze of Macy’s Santaland. McCollum succeeds in transforming his fit, confident appearance into that of a defeated, self-deprecating “33-year-old man applying for a job as an elf.”
McCollum balances many complicated contradictions in his performance, giving the character the depth needed to sustain a one-man performance. He projects both Crumpet’s bemusement at where he’s landed and his mild self-loathing; his general disgust with humanity and his compassion for all us poor bastards. At the same time, McCollum is skilled at the larger, splashier demands of a stage comedy. He is in perfect control of his instrument. This can be seen throughout the performance; in the Southern, saccharine-honied voice of a mother who doesn’t want her child to see a black Santa, or the resigned but hilariously exaggerated act of putting on a pair of sparkly elf-tights in front of an audience.
Jessica Ford’s costume and set design are unsettlingly buoyant, showcasing a happy, sparkly bloat that is in perfect contradiction to Crumpet’s deflated state. Don Crossley’s lighting design is a fully necessary part of the performance. It works subtly, adding a tiny bit of warmth to the scene, and it works loudly, bringing to life the very fires of hell when necessary.
There is a caveat to The Santaland Diaries for fans of Sedaris. McCollum isn’t Sedaris. He’s an actor. Animated, energetic, emotive … all things that Sedaris (and his writing style) are not. A lover of Sedaris might begin to tussle with the question of whether or not McCollum’s bevy of funny voices and full body inhabitations, while expertly done, fit Sedaris’ style of gentle, irritated bafflement.
The solution is to accept that the play is a completely separate form of entertainment, meant to make you laugh at different places and different things, meant to manipulate emotions beyond what a comedy reading can do. The play’s strongest show of this is a quiet moment, toward the end of the play, where Crumpet is shocked to encounter the kindness and nobility that humans are capable of showing each other. While Sedaris noted it and was impressed by it, McCollum’s Crumpet is redeemed by it, affected beyond speech, if only for a little while. These differences between essay and performance add richness to the story, no matter what your level of familiarity.
The Santaland Diaries runs at Portland Center Stage through January 2. For tickets and information go to pcs.org.
