By David Greenham

As the run continues, the torrent of gags will probably settle into place and proper narrative rhythms emerge. But for now, the game’s aground.

The Hound of the Baskervilles by Steven Canny and John Nicholson. Directed by Lee Mikeska Gardner. Scene and props designed by Julia Wonkka. Costume design by Leslie Held. Lighting design by John R. Malinowski. Sound design by David Bryan Jackson. Performed at Central Square Theater, 450 Massachusetts Avenue, Cambridge, through October 6.

Aimee Doherty in the CST production of  The Hound of the Baskervilles. Photo: Maggie Hall

Under the leadership of artistic director Lee Mikeska Gardner, Central Square Theater has taken bold strokes to illuminate and explore the feminine perspective. It’s interesting, then, that its 2024/2025 season starts off with a broad and silly comic take on one of the most popular — and possibly misogynist — male characters in all of literature, Sherlock Holmes.

Created by the UK company Peepolykus in 2007, this farcical take on The Hound of the Baskervilles cases was developed by actor/playwright John Nicholson and BBC Scotland comedy writer and producer Steven Canny. Peepolykus creates shows, as their website notes, “whose sublimely ridiculous style of anarchic comedy has been compared to The Marx Brothers, Buster Keaton, and Monty Python.”

Many of those seeing a performance of Canny/Nicholson’s script will probably think of Reduced Shakespeare Company’s Compleat Works of Shakespeare, (abridged), where three performers try to tackle of 37 of Shakespeare’s plays in one wild romp.

Hound has been seen in Boston before, including at Central Square Theater in 2010.

In the Peepolykus original, and many subsequent productions, the show’s roles were all played by men. In the original production, author Nicholson took on the toughest and most nuanced role, Watson. Not surprisingly, given its mission, the CST’s staging of Hound of the Baskervilles relies on three talented women: Aimee Doherty, Jenny S. Lee, and Sarah Morin.

Casting comediennes in the roles is a promisingly fun concept, but, as director Peter Bogdanovich once noted, “Drama is easy. Comedy is hard.” The Canny/Nicholson extended sketch version of the classic Arthur Conan Doyle tale is deceptively hard to put across.

Jenny S. Lee and Aimee Doherty in the CST production of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Photo: Maggie Hall

The romp begins with a false start. Eerie sounds play and the lighting casts long shadows, suggesting a path in the deep woods; Sir Charles Baskerville (Sarah Morin) creeps across the stage. Suddenly an animal howls. Sir Charles is terrified and clutches his chest in pain. Just as he falls dead, Jenny S. Lee storms on the stage in her John Watson costume to — apologetically — stop the action. She is followed quickly by a confused Aimee Doherty in her Sherlock Holmes costume. Morin sits up in dismay as the house lights come on.

Lee issues an alert: the audience hasn’t been properly warned that the show they’re about to see features “disturbingly high levels of theatrical tension.” She is making this announcement because the theater has a responsibility to protect itself in case someone, like Sir Charles, becomes so frightened by what they see that they keel over. Lee reads: “If you suffer from any of the following: a heart condition, a nervous disposition, low self-esteem, or a general inability to tell fact from faction, we ask you now to consider leaving the theater.”

The ultra-silly gag sets the tone for this farce (scripted rather than improv), which is replete with quick change costumes, ridiculous beards and wigs, location changes created by rolling set pieces, outrageous props, and a myriad of over-the-top accents. The Hound of the Baskervilles is pure fluff, and as long as you’re not concerned with making sense out of senselessness, it’s an amusing if exhausting exercise in faff.

The backstory dispatched, the tale begins when Dr. James Mortimer (Morin) arrives at the famous Baker Street address to ask Holmes for help in solving the scary legend of the hound before the arrival of the last heir to Baskerville Hall and the family fortune, Sir Henry Baskerville (also Morin). Holmes is skeptical about the setup, but asks Watson to serve as Sir Henry’s bodyguard to keep him safe when he arrives at the estate and haunted woods.

And we’re off and running — literally. As the story unfolds, we meet a circus car full of characters, each more unhinged than the previous one. The cast members, along with the efforts of assistant stage manager Melissa Smith, make a right mess of things from the very beginning. As required by the play, of course. The story is interspersed, with frenzy, among the multiple gags and gimmicks.

Sarah Morin and Aimee Doherty in the CST production of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Photo: Maggie Hall

Unfortunately, the script and its nonstop zany business gets the best of the cast members, despite their valiant efforts, Eventually, the CST production comes off as a battle lost: performers versus props, costumes, and staging. What should be a wonderfully choreographed dance flirts with chaos.

As Holmes and others, Aimee Doherty is the most consistently grounded of the three. But it feels like she’s saddled with being responsible for telling the story (or trying to). As Sir Henry, and several other roles, Morin displays strong comic talent and timing. The performer also injects an enjoyably charming joie de vivre. As Watson, earnest and hard-working Jenny S. Lee has the most challenging role, unpredictably shifting between straight man and comic. It’s a complicated path.

The actors aren’t helped by the tech, which includes Julia Wonkka’s limited set. The staging leaves the impression that the performers are making do with the set pieces they have, rather than being given the set pieces that cleverly fit the need. Likewise, David Bryan Jackson’s sound design too often seems as if it is content to pluck the lowest-hanging fruit — for example, the overuse of the iconic shower-scene music from Psycho. Unfortunately, with an open stage concept and set pieces (seemingly) randomly placed helter-skelter around the stage, lighting designer Matthew Breton doesn’t have much to illuminate aside from spooky backgrounds.

Finally, this Hound is tripped up by the direction, which lacks the efficiency, the detailed attention to physical movement, that’s called for. From the start, the proceedings seem overly wound-up — a cat that can’t stop chasing its tail. The cast and crew race to keep up with a cascade of costume changes and gags. The result: there’s more frenzy than funny. It is hard to follow what is going on, to understand the story and character relationships, because they are buried under a mountain of stage business and goofy nonsense.

As the CST run continues, the torrent of gags will probably settle into place and proper narrative rhythms emerge. But for now, the game’s aground.

David Greenham is an arts and culture consultant, adjunct lecturer on Drama at the University of Maine at Augusta, and is the former executive director of the Maine Arts Commission. He can be found at https://davidgreenham.com/