Polished shows, direct from a get-the-kinks-out run in another city, cast and scenery arriving by bus, are next door to those hastily thrown-together under-rehearsed/still being revised shows that may have had last-minute cast replacements. Adrenalin is in the air and it’s a litmus test of professionalism and sometimes a case of “who gave the green light to this train wreck?” Certainly, there’s something for everyone. This year, I am concentrating on musicals of all kinds.

Here’s a look at some of the shows I’ve seen in the first leg of my marathon two-week banquet of caviar and potato chips:

To start off with a bang, let’s begin with a show where the characters keep getting shot but stay in the house because they want a shot at finding the hidden treasure and are waiting for the reading of the will of the man they all knew. (Help! The killer is somewhere in the house with us!! It’s one of us!) Hint is an intentionally broad comedy that proudly wears it silly grin and affection for the whodunit clichés on its sleeve. The characters are exaggerated types, hammy accents and shtick welcome.  It also has a strong desire to wink at the audience with asides that tell us it’s only a play. (At the beginning of the second scene, the woman who set the scene and clued us in to who’s who and how they got there via relationships with the dearly departed, and that there will be a search through the house for something hidden, collapses in a chair and says she’s exhausted from so much exposition. Some funny business works, some goes thud, but too often the intended frothy fun feels labored, a recipe where the ingredients just don’t whip together in that lighthearted way. It’s tricky business when there’s no agenda for believability; like a comedy sketch, it’s about zingers and fast-paced frivolity, but what works in a five-minute comedy sketch stretched into a play that lasts over an hour, can feel tedious. The farce is sparse and some self-satisfied, smug characters become just annoying rather than endearing or entertainingly irritating.  The songs are diverting, but uneven in quality. I was especially happy to see Patti Perkins again, a delightful performer who lights up a stage and gives her all, popping eyes aglow and voice just as bright. Consistent and consistently amusing, though she doesn’t get the best material or most important character, she’s a pro all the way. For example, she gives the deceased’s French mistress a withering, dismissive look and addresses her condescendingly as “French fry,” making the most of that little opportunity. Bonnie Milligan has the best moments here, and as the play’s co-bookwriter and co-lyricist (with composer Joe Maloney), you could say she gave herself the plum role.  But she bites into that plum for all the juice she can get from the juicy role as the well-meaning but highly awkward, shy, flibberty-gibberty nervous nellie who, gee whiz, just wants a friend.  In the opening scene, dressed to look as unflatteringly clueless in a pink polka-dot dress, huge glasses and pigtails, the klutz daringly claims to be the ingénue as the more typical sweet young things in their flowing hair and glamour looks, look on incredulously.  That’s just the beginning of the fun she unleashes. To come, are panic attacks that provoke attacks of laughter.  A real riot and dizzy delight, she makes it all worth seeing.  The genre of the murder mystery has oft been spoofed, and so more than a “hint” of a new spin is necessary for yet more go ‘round.

Powerhouse brings us the story of musician Raymond Scott, the real-life composer-conductor-inventor, a father of electronic music and some more standard stuff as a bandleader.  He’s someone whose music I’ve known (and you have, too, but might not know you know it.  Bugs Bunny, anyone? And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, with electronic music, songs, snippets, films, orchestral work, commercials, even Motown Records).  His lively, quirky, sometimes madly imaginative music has been used in many a cartoon but they were not written for that form originally.  It’s simply that his catalogue of music was bought by the cartoon world and recycled.  Sound was his love, some bordering on sound effects.  Welcome to his world.   Precision was his goal, and we see him tinkering with machines that electronically create and refine the sounds.  A tough taskmaster who wanted things played with absolute exactness and the same each time, to the smallest detail, is seen testing the patience of musicians whose creativity and soul are treated as annoyances.  He’d love them to BE machines.  We see him prioritizing regimentation--- a metronome is your friend --- as he’s working with singer Dorothy Collins, whom he meets when she’s a teen, shapes and molds and eventually marries and works with on the famous “Your Hit Parade” on both radio and TV.  We see him at work for radio (he was CBS’ music director) and obsessed with machines that create or re-create musical sounds. It gets in the way of his interpersonal relationships which, in this piece, he seems to have as low priorities.  It is NOT a musical, though we hear a few songs and hear instrumental music on recordings.

As the title character, Erik Lochtefeld deserves credit for making the man as intriguing as he does, a curiosity like his music. One can admire his dedication, but that doesn’t necessarily make him sympathetic or as interesting as his music.  What makes him tick, we wonder? At least for a while, until his ignoring and dismissing his wives and colleagues tests our sympathy limits. Though the novelty offers diminishing returns, the use of puppetry and the expertise shown is a major asset.  It solves the challenge of how to present the instrumental music used for cartoons without just showing cartoons or using actors in costumes.  Cleverly, we often have three actors (whom we see) as a puppeteering team for one creature---one each for hands and feet, and another with torso.  The interaction inspires admiring applause and is charming and funny with the attendant soundtrack.  Score one for exposing the scores.  The concept is that of director Jon Levin, collaborating with writer-producer Josh Luxenberg with their Sinking Ship Productions.  It’s smooth sailing for them for a while but things do become somewhat repetitive--- determined Scott, another ignored woman in his life, professional frustrations, another puppet clobbered on the head with the giant mallet, and we never quite understand the man.  Of course, the trouble with plays based on real people is that if one stays true to the facts, the dramatic conflict or interaction may not be as compelling as one might create with an original story. A swing dance number in the first scene leads us to expect more of a real musical.  Still, Erik Lochtefeld keeps us interested much of the time as his single-mindedness and crisp work does command attention.  The versatile ensemble plays all the needed roles, with special honors going to another Eric (this one with a “c”), the dynamic Eric Wright whose boundless energy is a joy, and he’s also the indispensable puppet builder and key puppeteer.  But I can’t help wondering what else there is to the story.

Don’t worry; Vote is not Disney’s High School Musical.  But it is a musical set in high school and has its goals set to…. Well, it’s a little hard to tell.  Maybe this tale of a high school election is like the politicians who flip flop and think they can try to please all the people all the time.  One minute it’s the broadly played comical “cartoon musical” as described in advance material.  Then, bam! There it is, a hard-hitting slam at the evils of politics gone wrong (or do they always go wrong?) and the quest for power that entices people to lose their moral compass, lie, cheat and steal.  One moment it’s a vampy dance fantasy, and then an earnest look at racial prejudice when a bi-racial student speaks up.  The whole is not the sum of its parts; it’s mostly parts that partly work on their own.  It’s not unusual for a musical to have an identity crisis.  It’s not unusual for teenagers to have identity crises and we have that here, too.  “Uneven” might be the operative word, but I found enough to like to give Vote my vote of confidence that, with a little after-school help, it can make the grade.  A for effort, but….  This musical seems to want us to laugh at and love to hate and then take more seriously the ditzy, bratty dumb blonde type who never does her homework (she has someone do that for her).  She’s the cliché perky but bitchy cheerleader type, but then we’re asked to stifle the laugh and yawn and accept that this academically apathetic airhead might be going to college to be a doctor.  And she’s running for school council president, but what really is at stake when there isn’t much power or control such a glorified popularity contest winner has, and oops, they seem to know that.  Even the deluded ditz named Muffin (rhymes with “She isn’t bluffin’”) is played to type with the ultimate type of type casting by Bailey Hanks, who was the winner of the title role in Legally Blonde via an MTV reality show competition, so she’s even used to competing.  Perky, plucky, tosses her hair, and is forced to continually remind people that her obnoxious habits are “part of my charm.”  Scratch the surface and find more surface and then a pre-med candidate.  Running against her is a maniacal, power-hungry male student with Richard Nixon as his role model.  He’s terrifically played by Morgan Karr, who’s been in Spring Awakening and has highly watchable go-for-broke tendencies with canny ways of knowing just how much madness to sprinkle in.  His hippity-hop and slinky movements and ways of lacing a word with snarkiness or sly threats are delightful.  Darting eyes that are poison darts, the fussing and fuming, the ever-ready urge for  pontificating, wearing his bow tie like a badge of honor--- all right on the money.  Deidre Goodwin is a dynamic belting powerhouse tigress who happens to be cast as the teacher and gets the star bow and some spotlight, but it’s not her story, is it?  That seems to be another contest with no sure winner.  The songs are a mixed bag, too, evidencing some skill and thrill potential, often high energy, but some numbers are “by the numbers” in approach and intent.  They try to convince the audience of something and succeed part way, like perhaps the students do in the electoral process.  There were sound problems obscuring lyrics in a few songs, but they may have been worked out by now. (The show is by Ryann Ferguson and Steven Jamail, who was also on keyboards in the band.)  It’s a lot to expect an audience being given cotton candy, to suddenly swallow a shot of hard truth serum in a song about confronting racial prejudice.  Ryan J. Davis, the talented director behind the controversial White Noise about youth and the drive for success at any cost, may well be able to bring out the underbelly and underlying motives.  But the cartoon elements don’t allow that to be the be-all and end-all.  There’s a lot of fluff here, some good fluff, but also some lines that crystallize: In discussing political presentation with something that isn’t fully true: “That used to be called lying. Now it’s called marketing.”

PLEASE SEE WWW.FRINGENYC.ORG FOR LOCATIONS AND DATES FOR THESE AND ALL 201 FRINGE SHOWS.