Who knew sadness could be so spirit-lifting?

One of the most blissful things about Blinking Eye Theatre’s buoyantly absurd production of Melancholy Play is that the performers seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as the audience did.

The show — written by Sarah Ruhl and directed by Riley Parham, with music by Michael Roth — revolves around Tilly (an utterly engaging Lorelai Shae), who has a penchant for rain and seems to savor her chronic state of melancholy as if it were a heaping spoonful of ice cream. Tilly’s far from being a Debbie Downer: Her sadness, which is a sweet blend of wit and whimsy with a pinch of depression, is irresistible to everyone she meets.

Among her admirers is Lorenzo the Unfeeling (Kylen Lon Beatty), a psychiatrist who wants to keep Tilly on meds so that she can be as happy as he claims to be. Fully embracing the comic melodrama of the play, Lorenzo speaks with a deliciously R-rolling accent, and extravagantly gestures and mugs as if he’s playing a particularly silly game of charades.

Others who are captivated by Tilly include Frank (Jayna Sweet), a tailor who wears a splendid curling moustache and a tidy gray newsboy cap; Frances (Caralynn Rose), a hairdresser who longs to touch Tilly’s long red locks; and Joan (Mele Satsuma), a nurse and Frances’ live-in lover.

Capturing both the all-out goofiness and the good vibes of the play, this staging smoothly swirls from one ridiculous scenario to another, with the help of a 15-foot white parachute. 

Continually shapeshifting throughout the play, the parachute serves at times as a long melancholic skirt draped over Tilly. In other scenes, it’s a place to hide a character, only to have their head suddenly pop out of the hole in its center. It also makes a handy backdrop when the performers hold it behind Tilly; and when they grasp its edges and send it billowing over their heads, the fabric wafts down like a giant sigh.

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Right from the get-go, the minimal scenery gives the show a quirky look, with more white fabric on the floor and clusters of window frames suspended from the ceiling. A violinist (Rebecca Raccanelli) is also perched on a white box, where she swings her ankles and gazes at the audience as they take their seats before she proceeds to play sad music throughout the performance.

Even at Tilly’s lowest, there’s something charming about her bluesy emotions. In fact, when she suddenly gets happy at a birthday party, her frantic glee is alarming as she races around chirping and grinning like someone who’s OD’d on caffeine.

This shift isn’t good news for her paramours, either. In a song-and-dance number, they sing in lovely and hilarious harmony, “Oh, for the melancholy Tilly! Why did she become so silly?”

More humor is mined in an over-the-top fight scene, where the characters grapple for possession of a vial of Tilly’s tears. The zany scuffle includes throwing stylized punches that land about two feet away from their targets.

For a play about sadness, cheerful colors pop up everywhere. This is thanks to Sue Parham, who designed both the costumes and the props, such as the red-trimmed pillow where a giant almond rests. More touches of red come with the cross on Joan’s old-fashioned nurse hat and the bright sharpies she keeps in the pockets of her stiff white uniform. Tilly, too, sports a pair of brightly patterned flower-child-meets-circus-performer pants.

A true spirit-lifter, this production also has something to suggest about community. As Tilly tells Lorenzo, “When someone in your social circle becomes so melancholy that they stop moving, it is your duty as a human being to go find them.” Of course, that’s even more important when that someone appears to have turned into an almond.

The shenanigans in the play don’t point so much to a message as to a soothing sense that maybe it’s OK not to feverishly run around trying to force ourselves to be happy. Sometimes it naturally comes to us anyway, especially when we’re thinking about someone besides ourselves.

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See Blinking Eye Theatre’s Melancholy Play through April 27 at Twilight Theater, 7515 N. Brandon St. in Portland. Find tickets and schedules here.