The Dallas Morning News
Performance: Dallas, TX
22-Nov-89

"Last night was like Christmas to me," says Mr. Williams. "We opened the show in San Francisco (three weeks ago) and worked on it there…. we wanted to work on the show so we could bring it to Austin in good shape."

In fact, says Mr. Williams, it was the loyal fans of Tuna who helped create the momentum for a sequel. Mr. Williams, Mr. Sears and director-writer Ed Howard developed Greater Tuna, their comic look at the loony Texas boondocks, in 1982 in Austin.

The show drew on some of the same cozy-cute folksiness as A Prairie Home Companion, but presented it with a satiric bent – and an ingenious theatrical economy: The two actors portrayed all 20 of the town's eccentrics, male and female, in a deceptively simple whirl of quick-change scenes.

Eventually, Tuna went to Atlanta and off-Broadway and toured to more than 25 cities. Hundreds of local productions cropped up: In 1985-86, Greater Tuna was the most widely staged play in America, including a local production at Dallas Repertory Theatre.

As they toured and worked on other prospects, the two old friends jokingly referred to the possibility of a sequel. "Escape from Tuna or Beyond Tuna, we called it," says Mr. Sears. And in various talk-show appearances, they often improvised on their characters, weaving entire histories for them. For the Greater Tuna HBO special, they even created new Tuna helpers, notably a pair of Tastee Kreme waitresses.

But it wasn’t until their agent at William Morris suggested that they set the sequel at Christmas – that the idea for 'Tuna II" clicked. "He earned his paycheck on that one," comments Mr. Williams.

The Christmas setting was important for two reasons. First, it provides thematic unity to the loosely interlocking scenes of life in Tuna, Texas. Bertha Bumiller wonders if her worthless husband, Hank, will ever get out of a bar long enough to return home for the holidays. Vera Carp's gargantuan yard display, a nativity scene featuring life-size statues of Bing Crosby and Natalie Wood, is up for the town's annual trophy. And the Tuna Little Theatre's production of A Christmas Carol is threatened by the town treasurer, who promises to pull the plug unless the theater's electric bill is paid.

Just as important, the Christmas setting automatically limits the show's run. "We've stretched Christmas about as far as it will go, from Halloween to Ground Hog Day," jokes Mr. Williams, yet the show is still contained to about 16 weeks each year. Having performed Greater Tuna more than 1,900 times, the two men were not eager to create another year-round treadmill.

For its first season, the performers decided to confine A Tuna Christmas to the three most receptive towns for Greater Tuna – San Francisco, Austin and Washington. After A Tuna Christmas closes at the Paramount Dec. 16, it will move to the Kennedy Center for a booking through early February.

“There's talk about New York City next Christmas," reports Mr. Williams, "but I'd like to keep it in Texas just one more year." Discussions are under way to bring it to the Plaza Theatre next year for what looks to be a sure-fire seasonal hit.

Some things have changed in Tuna, and Messrs. Sears and Williams were concerned that their 24 characters show the effects of living through a few more years of the '80s.

When they wrote Tuna in 1981, the Moral Majority and other right-wing issues prompted much of their satire. This time around, "it's much more about family relationships than issues," says Mr. Sears.

Just as with the original show, however, A Tuna Christmas essentially revolves around the sharply realized female characters: Bertha Bumiller, Aunt Pearl, who's given up poisoning dogs for killing blue jays; Vera Carp, the richest, snobbiest woman in town, and the bitter Didi Snavely, whose gun shop is offering a “Peace on Earth" Christmas bar.

It's a testament to the three collaborators' impressive talents that A Tuna Christmas seems almost a seamless extension of the earlier show – although perhaps too much so. The structure remains much the same, with radio station OKKK providing transitions between scenes.

And there is no significant dip in comic quality, although there is occasionally a more cartoonish sensibility at work. A short customer at the Tastee Kreme, who can be seen over the counter only because of her beehive hairdo, gets a laugh, but it's a gimmicky gag. And the first show's beauty lay in its simplicity.

The major hurdle has been shortening the material. Yet some scenes still seemed to linger, notably the various leave-takings toward the end and two "collective" scenes – one at Didi's store and another at the Tastee Kreme.

At one point in the interview, Mr. Sears talks about an aged aunt of his in Oklahoma, and his jovial face – like some cigarette-smoking cherub's – cracks a smile, as he imitates her with her hands grasping the steering wheel, "driving some big car down the middle of the reservation road, bitching about welfare babies." He can't help himself and breaks up laughing. "People used to swerve outta her way."

In Austin, the affectionate roars of recognition came for Mr. Sears' loving and brilliantly observed creations. Aunt Pearl and Bertha – both of whom clearly bear a close family resemblance to the angry aunt, weaving down the Oklahoma road. In general, A Tuna Christmas seems to take its cue from Mr. Sears' characters. It may present a somewhat cynical take on holiday activities, but it actually has a lighter, softer – one might even say vaguer – focus than Greater Tuna. Although Mr. Williams' drag roles are still outlandishly sharp caricatures, A Tuna Christmas seems to dote on the Tuna townspeople.

Which is, after all, the whole mint of a sequel. It's a homecoming.