When it was released in 1988, "Die Hard" presented an anomaly of a film protagonist: a working-class, scrappy underdog hero with only reasonable musculature (for Hollywood, at least) who unwittingly finds himself in the center of the action. This stood in stark contrast to other top-grossing action franchises featuring Rambos, RoboCops and Ripleys out for blood and Xenomorph alien goo.
Richard Marsh, a UK-based actor and poet, doubled down on the otherness of "Die Hard" by transforming it into an award-winning one-person stage show presented almost entirely in rhyming verse. “Yippee Ki Yay: The Parody Celebration of ‘Die Hard,'" named for a quotable line from the film, has arrived in Chicago for a limited run in the Broadway Playhouse at Water Tower Place and reframes the story as a meditation on loving a piece of pop culture so much that it ages alongside you, for better or worse.
Over a fleet 75 minutes, Marsh recreates the film’s most iconic moments and characters with infectious vim and low-budget charm. He engages in a knock-down, drag-out fight with a teddy bear, a stand-in for supporting terrorist Tony (so buff he “makes The Rock look like a pebble,” in Marsh’s words), then dusts himself with what seems to be dry hot cocoa mix to simulate blood and grime. A watering can dipped in a basin recreates the interior waterfall in the center of the film's fictional Nakatomi Plaza. He inhabits each character only with posture and cadence —a puffed chest for our protagonist John McClane; a stoic visage for the villainous Hans Gruber.
The show, directed with an unfussy touch by Hal Chambers, works not just because Marsh traipses around the stage with the enthusiasm of a child dressed as a superhero on Halloween, but because he shares his self-awareness about these low-budget antics with the audience. The first time he raises the watering can, he responds to audience giggles with, “The magic of theater!” Every gun is represented by his fingers, so he says that’s why they call it a “hand gun.” When the show’s only costume change — removing his shirt to reveal a McClane-esque white tank top — elicits a few “woo”s, he’s quick to respond: “I’m not often objectified as a poet.”
It’s abundantly clear that Marsh has watched “Die Hard” to death, as he shares observations about the film’s flaws that he has grown to love. He dubs Gruber, played onscreen by the late Alan Rickman, “the perfect purring perpetrator — like Prince Harry pre-LA” — before ribbing Rickman’s accent as ringing more British than German, accenting every few syllables with a Professor Snape-esque drawl for effect. Marsh also mocks Karl, the terrorist sidekick played by ballet dancer Alexander Gudonov, for his long and luscious blonde locks and flowery movements, pirouetting all of his entrances.
Marsh juxtaposes the action and comedy in "Die Hard" with a love story forged by a shared fondness for the film. The hero of “Yippee Ki Yay,” a fictionalized Marsh, meets Jen on a Reddit board for diehard “Die Hard” fans and they watch the film, dining on KFC and sipping rosé. A courtship is born.
“This is how it’s supposed to be / the woman loves the dork in me,” he says as he swoons. Later, when marriage and kids come into frame, Marsh realizes that a shared affinity for a piece of pop culture may not be enough to sustain the relationship.
The lyrical script ties the film to Marsh’s romantic subplot and heightens what may be passing shots from the film into moments of introspection. At one point in the movie, Gruber and his henchmen corner McClane, who has to escape by walking barefoot over broken glass, and the equivalent part of “Yippee Ki Yay” becomes a rumination on how much pain one can endure in service of something greater—especially when “human sushi,” as Marsh puts it, is being prepared. The lighting, designed by Robbie Butler, heightens this beat by stripping most of the illumination away, casting shadows over Marsh’s face as he takes every agonizing step.
Now that he’s a father, Marsh says he pays closer attention to the personal story at the heart of the film: McClane’s desire to reconcile his relationship with his ex-wife and children. The fictionalized Marsh from “Yippee Ki Yay” saves his marriage by letting this interpretation of the film guide his evolution as a partner. That’s certainly not always a winning strategy to face the complications of real life, not to mention the fact that McClane demonstrates little personal growth.
“Yippee Ki Yay” proves that movies, even ostensibly mindless ones, can be more than an empty escape.
