"Spokesong," ode to the bicycle, has charms, but wordiness drags it down

The popular dramatic literature of bicycling is not vast. It contains a few memorable films ("The Bicycle Thief," "Breaking Away"), and for plays, there is the exuberant "Spokesong," an offbeat 1970s comedy-drama with music that elevates cycling to a philosophical quest for love, peace and environmental sanity.

Set in Northern Ireland during a deadly eruption of the political "troubles" there, "Spokesong" has outlived its gifted Belfast author, Stewart Parker, who succumbed to cancer in 1988, at age 47.

Widely produced in the U.S., the play seems a natural choice for Seattle Public Theater. The company is, after all, quartered on Green Lake, in an area rife with cyclists and bike shops.

Tim Hyland's staging of "Spokesong" holds its charms and should have special appeal for cycling enthusiasts.

That said, Stewart's tale of a bicycle shop owner's one-man crusade against the internal combustion engine may well exhaust you before it hits the finish line.

Raffish, quirky Frank (Daniel Flint) holds the fort in his inherited Belfast bike shop, threatened by encroaching new highway construction on one side and lethal terrorist bombings on the other.

Frank pursues the woman of his dreams, a pessimistic teacher aptly named Daisy (Tracy Repep). Enacted in alternate scenes is the long-ago courtship of his ancestors who created the shop, the stalwart Francis (Jason Marr) and feisty suffragette Kitty (Hana Lass).

But busting up the whimsy of these pairings is Frank's visiting prodigal brother Julian (Justin Alley). He's smarmy, and he wants to sell the store and nick Frank's girl, too.

"Spokesong" has a simple story line but an elaborate format. With actor-musician Mark Fullerton serving as a vaudeville-style emcee — and Alley chiming in on accordion and other instruments — musical numbers abound, including multiple refrains of "Bicycle Built for Two." Past alternates with present. And Frank is prone to lengthy discourses on such matters as the history of the bicycle.

Much or all of this is scripted, but some of the musical tangents and monologues feel belabored and drag the pace.

The acting varies too: Lass and Repep sparkle, Marr and Alley are adequate, but Flint seems a bit tentative in a prolix role.

His character Frank does have the fabled Irish gift of gab, however. And as Stewart Parker's mouthpiece, he makes a fine case for the humble bicycle, in a play written long before the notion of "going green" became a bumper sticker.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com