Paradise: A Divine Bluegrass Musical Comedy is a toe-tapping, laugh-a-minute, vest-pocket bluegrass musical about the Appalachian town of Paradise where, owing to the shutdown of the local coal mine, the population has shrunk down to 47 inhabitants, five of whom congregate daily at the seedy general store run by Louanne Knight (the sensational Kelsey Joyce) . The store’s been in Louanne’s family for generations, but even she sees no hope for the future and wants out. Not even the arrival of John Cyrus Mountain (the equally charismatic Jon Root), a slick and ultimately sinister preacher with a grandiose plan to save Paradise, can shake her resolve to leave (and find true love somewhere). The Reverend can’t believe that this hillbilly could show so much gumption and grit—and sing like a dream—in the face of his blandishments, which involve building a mega-church and launching a reality TV show here. “I’m a for-profit prophet,” he boasts to her, in one of the show’s many scathingly satirical songs. But still she turns him down, despite his promise to put all of Paradise in the black as well. Louanne may be a hillbilly and a virgin, but she knows a hustler when she sees one, particularly when he’s accompanied by his ex-Vegas-stripper girlfriend, Chastity Jones (Nina Brissey). Louanne doesn’t much like, either, the TV producer Peter Martinez (Jamie Daniels) who shows up with the preacher and sings the praises of Reality TV in another irreverent and hilarious number. On Louanne’s side is Ezra Johnson (the inestimable Dave Florek), a blind old man who comments on the action every once in a while in a drolly sarcastic way. Opposing her are Mayor Gayheart (Chip Bolcik) and his son Tater (Randy Taylor), about as odd a couple as you’ll ever meet, considering that the Mayor is white, germaphobic and a redneck while Tater is black, fastidious and an intellectual. Also in the mix is Cinderella Tiara Applebaum (Paige Segal), who calls herself The Missing Link in a raucous second-act song. The second act is also filled with many other revelations, the most important of which is that the Reverend is really Lucifer in disguise, out to exploit the town’s hidden wealth, which lies deep beneath its top two layers of “coal and hell”. Paradise’s story might be convoluted and crazy, but it is told in a snappy, bawdy way. All scenes are short and fast, ditto the seventeen songs sung by the talented cast, who are backed up by a four-man bluegrass band that really rocks. This isn’t the first time the show has been seen at the Ruskin; it premiered there in 2013 and played to sold-out houses for five months. Then it was optioned for Broadway and further developed by its creative team. Now it has returned to L.A. with four new songs and a revamped book (lots of Trump jokes). With director Michael Myers driving the engine, Paradise will undoubtedly enjoy another long run here.
