Criminal Minds

If comedy has a “Weird Florida” genre, a twilight zone where characters from the small-town South drift into a world of tacky suburban sprawl, Criminal Minds lives there. In this case, two escaped prisoners and a lady friend have hunkered down at a rundown miniature-golf course. Closed for the season, it’s the last place the law will look for them.

These three characters, posed by playwright Robin Swicord, are pathetically funny—mostly because none of them are certain why they’re there. Small-time con man Eddie Ray (Floyd Harden) has sprung fellow jailbird Renfroe (Brent Bianchini). The good-natured Renfroe has no short-term memory. Every time he notices the two-story dinosaur that presides over the mini-golf course, he gushes anew with innocent delight.

Eddie Ray is sure Renfroe must possess a useful criminal skill: Why else would he have been locked up? So, Eddie Ray tries desperately to restore Renfroe’s memory, in hopes of using him as a pawn in his next scheme.

Caught in between is Billie Marie (Lynn Baker). Eddie Ray’s her man. She realizes he’s bad, but she follows him anyway. Yet she’s also the object of young Renfroe’s goofy, naive overtures. Physical comedy results from Eddie Ray and Billie Marie’s efforts to help Renfroe function. Of course, everything goes wrong.

The performances are solid. Baker is a powerhouse of overstated feminine charm. Bianchini, a Cosumnes River College student, comes through in scene after scene. Harden, fresh from doing Shakespeare at City Theatre, delivers comedy of an altogether different kind here.

Nancy Pipkin’s costumes are spot on, especially the pink outfit on Billie Marie. Kale Braden’s set, with faux reptiles and tiki-hut trappings, is perfect. Director Rod Loomis keeps this elusive tale in focus at all times.