| THEATER TIMES REVIEWS FEBRUARY 2007 |
Speed-the-Plow
by David Mamet, directed by Randall Arney
Geffen Playhouse, February 7-March 25, 2007
WITH Greg Germann, Alicia Silverstone, Jon Tenney PRODUCTION Robert Blackman, set and costumes;
Daniel Ionazzi, lights; Michelle Magaldi/Dana Victoria Anderson, stage management; Amy Levinson Millán,
dramaturg (Previews 1/30, Opens 2/7, Closes 3/25. Reviewed: 2/8)
After two major Mamet productions – the crazy Romance at the Taper and the stilted
Boston Marriage at the Geffen – proved less than powerful, and the planned premiere of
his first musical, A Waitress in Yellowstone, fell off the Kirk Douglas calendar, L.A.
was due for a reminder of why David Mamet is one of the great playwrights.
Here it is. On Wednesday, the Geffen Playhouse opened a letter-perfect staging of Speed-the-Plow, his
1988 comedy about Hollywood’s war between honor and whoring. Geffen Artistic Director Randall Arney
directs a superb trio of faces familiar enough to attract the film folk who are the play’s ostensive subject, and
the acting chops to reward Mamet-hungry theater fans.
Having seen Speed’s Broadway premiere and promoted its Southern California premiere at South Coast
Repertory in 1990, I can report that Greg Germann, Alicia Silverstone and Jon Tenney are every inch as good
as those casts. (Though it’s apples and oranges to compare the delightful Ms. Silverstone to Madonna,
whose noisy stage debut was in the Broadway production, and worth reminding folks how special Joe
Spano is on stage, as he was as SCR's Charlie Fox.)
Producer Bobby Gould (Mr. Tenney) is one day into his position as a studio executive with fresh power to
“green light” scripts for production. At rise, he is still settling in: with boxes to unpack, painters' tarps to
remove and posters of his unfamiliarpast projects to hang. His first visitor is an anxious Fox (Mr. Germann).
No sooner has Fox eased himself through just enough crack in the door than Gould has picked up on a high-
speed narrative about their industry. Without missing a beat, Fox joins in and, as if a needle had been
dropped into the middle of their favorite record, the stage is suddenly filled the rhythm of their exchange.
Mr. Tenney and Mr. Germann give Gould and Fox the kind of fluid mutualism that makes these speeches
worth savoring: all bluster, carefully shifting subtext, little content. It is a choreographed yin and yang, played
out to Mr. Mamet's staccato syntax. The dance of the negotiators. They jockey for position, carefully
respecting who is leading and who is following, and all the while working to pick the other's pocket of ideas,
contacts and influence. We soon learn that a star-driven project has dropped into Fox’s lap, and he wants
his Gould’s studio to produce it.
The third character is Karen, a temp in for Gould’s assistant, who is suspiciously absent on this important first
(or second) day. Ms. Silverstone, the delightful surprise in Boston Marriage, may be the Geffen’s best ringer:
a Hollywood name with a refreshing naturalness on stage and plenty of honest, spontaneous ideas in
performance. She immediately establishes herself with the two stage veterans, maximizing the effects of the
first words Mr. Mamet has given her. Meant to disrupt Gould and Fox's verbal volleying, the words silence
their motor mouths like a boulder dropped on a gearbox.
The play’s structure showcases Karen in Act II, Fox in Act III, and gives a slight edge to Gould in an otherwise
evenly split Act I. Yet, Mr. Tenney appropriately manages to own every scene he is in – and he is offstage
for less than five minutes. His Gould is a schemer by nature of his intelligence and bon homie, not through
cliched Hollywood smarminess. He’s the frat guy from college who, without artistic sensibilities or a real work
ethic, had a knack for getting the breaks and taking full advantage of them. He now sits in a position of power
and wealth, trying to produce movies that the highest number of people will pay to see.
In Hollywood, where only fools assume a deal is guaranteed to go through, there is an underlying suspense
to the Gould-Fox story. But Mr. Mamet’s plot is not the point. His interests go beyond Hollywood, to questions
of friendship in a competitive society, the leveling effects of love – if not sex – in business, and the
elusiveness of purity.
Karen may be a schemer like the men or simply an innocent excited by the opportunity to do something
meaningful. The men, for whom the meaningful has long been meaningless, are operating on lower
evolutionary rungs – the single-cell culture of the Big Sell. Whether she is stooping to conquer, to make the
world a better place, or simply to schtupp is open to debate. What is certain is that Mr. Tenney has given us a
definitive Bobby Gould, Ms. Silverstone continues to establish herself as a worthy stage actress, Mr.
Germann has a special gift for physical and vocal stage comedy, and Mr. Mamet again has the moral authority
to go back and hit on that Waitress in Yellowstone.
by David Mamet, directed by Randall Arney
Geffen Playhouse, February 7-March 25, 2007
WITH Greg Germann, Alicia Silverstone, Jon Tenney PRODUCTION Robert Blackman, set and costumes;
Daniel Ionazzi, lights; Michelle Magaldi/Dana Victoria Anderson, stage management; Amy Levinson Millán,
dramaturg (Previews 1/30, Opens 2/7, Closes 3/25. Reviewed: 2/8)
After two major Mamet productions – the crazy Romance at the Taper and the stilted
Boston Marriage at the Geffen – proved less than powerful, and the planned premiere of
his first musical, A Waitress in Yellowstone, fell off the Kirk Douglas calendar, L.A.
was due for a reminder of why David Mamet is one of the great playwrights.
Here it is. On Wednesday, the Geffen Playhouse opened a letter-perfect staging of Speed-the-Plow, his
1988 comedy about Hollywood’s war between honor and whoring. Geffen Artistic Director Randall Arney
directs a superb trio of faces familiar enough to attract the film folk who are the play’s ostensive subject, and
the acting chops to reward Mamet-hungry theater fans.
Having seen Speed’s Broadway premiere and promoted its Southern California premiere at South Coast
Repertory in 1990, I can report that Greg Germann, Alicia Silverstone and Jon Tenney are every inch as good
as those casts. (Though it’s apples and oranges to compare the delightful Ms. Silverstone to Madonna,
whose noisy stage debut was in the Broadway production, and worth reminding folks how special Joe
Spano is on stage, as he was as SCR's Charlie Fox.)
Producer Bobby Gould (Mr. Tenney) is one day into his position as a studio executive with fresh power to
“green light” scripts for production. At rise, he is still settling in: with boxes to unpack, painters' tarps to
remove and posters of his unfamiliarpast projects to hang. His first visitor is an anxious Fox (Mr. Germann).
No sooner has Fox eased himself through just enough crack in the door than Gould has picked up on a high-
speed narrative about their industry. Without missing a beat, Fox joins in and, as if a needle had been
dropped into the middle of their favorite record, the stage is suddenly filled the rhythm of their exchange.
Mr. Tenney and Mr. Germann give Gould and Fox the kind of fluid mutualism that makes these speeches
worth savoring: all bluster, carefully shifting subtext, little content. It is a choreographed yin and yang, played
out to Mr. Mamet's staccato syntax. The dance of the negotiators. They jockey for position, carefully
respecting who is leading and who is following, and all the while working to pick the other's pocket of ideas,
contacts and influence. We soon learn that a star-driven project has dropped into Fox’s lap, and he wants
his Gould’s studio to produce it.
The third character is Karen, a temp in for Gould’s assistant, who is suspiciously absent on this important first
(or second) day. Ms. Silverstone, the delightful surprise in Boston Marriage, may be the Geffen’s best ringer:
a Hollywood name with a refreshing naturalness on stage and plenty of honest, spontaneous ideas in
performance. She immediately establishes herself with the two stage veterans, maximizing the effects of the
first words Mr. Mamet has given her. Meant to disrupt Gould and Fox's verbal volleying, the words silence
their motor mouths like a boulder dropped on a gearbox.
The play’s structure showcases Karen in Act II, Fox in Act III, and gives a slight edge to Gould in an otherwise
evenly split Act I. Yet, Mr. Tenney appropriately manages to own every scene he is in – and he is offstage
for less than five minutes. His Gould is a schemer by nature of his intelligence and bon homie, not through
cliched Hollywood smarminess. He’s the frat guy from college who, without artistic sensibilities or a real work
ethic, had a knack for getting the breaks and taking full advantage of them. He now sits in a position of power
and wealth, trying to produce movies that the highest number of people will pay to see.
In Hollywood, where only fools assume a deal is guaranteed to go through, there is an underlying suspense
to the Gould-Fox story. But Mr. Mamet’s plot is not the point. His interests go beyond Hollywood, to questions
of friendship in a competitive society, the leveling effects of love – if not sex – in business, and the
elusiveness of purity.
Karen may be a schemer like the men or simply an innocent excited by the opportunity to do something
meaningful. The men, for whom the meaningful has long been meaningless, are operating on lower
evolutionary rungs – the single-cell culture of the Big Sell. Whether she is stooping to conquer, to make the
world a better place, or simply to schtupp is open to debate. What is certain is that Mr. Tenney has given us a
definitive Bobby Gould, Ms. Silverstone continues to establish herself as a worthy stage actress, Mr.
Germann has a special gift for physical and vocal stage comedy, and Mr. Mamet again has the moral authority
to go back and hit on that Waitress in Yellowstone.
Gregg Germann
Jon Tenney
Alicia Silverstone
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
by Edward Albee, directed by Anthony Page
Ahmanson Theatre, February 6-March 18, 2007
WITH Kathleen Early, David Furr, Bill Irwin, Kathleen Turner PRODUCTION John Lee Beatty, set; Jane
Greenwood, costumes; Peter Kaczorowski, lights; Mark Bennett/Michael Creason, sound; Rick Sordelet,
fight direction; Susie Cordon, stage management
The first names in the mythology of American marriage are George and Martha. For
the country’s first 180 years they stood for the Father of Our Country and our first
First Lady and reminded us that great lives are even greater when supported in
wholesome matrimony. In October 1962, with the Broadway premiere of Edward Albee’
s ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?,’ another set of George and Marthas -- the
Washingtons’ bi-polar opposites -- clawed their way to the top tier of marriage folklore
and claimed their places as the first family of Marital Strife.
In November 2005, under the direction of Anthony Page, Bill Irwin and Kathleen Turner became Broadway’s
latest George and Martha. A Ben Brantley benediction opened a box office flood that carried the cast to
London in 2006 and then earlier this month into L.A.’s Ahmanson Theatre. It arrives here amid much fanfare
and trailing awards from those previous stops: a Tony Award for Mr. Irwin, a London Critics Circle Award
for Ms. Turner and Brantley’s 'New York Times' declaration that Ms. Turner, “a movie star whose previous
theater work has been variable, finally secures her berth as a first-rate, depth-probing stage actress.”
It is now 45 years since the play’s controversial debut, when it earned the Pulitzer Prize for Drama only to
have the committee’s more powerful and less courageous members suspend the award that year because
of the
play’s language. Today, neither the language nor the vituperative husband and wife battles will ruffle
audiences used to profanity-spewing, chair-throwing guests common to viewers of Jerry Springer, Dr. Phil
and the like.
Still, Albee’s script leaves a sting. He had much more in mind than the shouting, and while we certainly
leave the Ahmanson with an appreciation for insight he has buried beneath the belligerence, there’s a
lingering sense that we are not seeing the definitive Martha. In Turner’s interpretation, she seems
particularly saddled with the requirement that she be dominant in every scrap of dialogue. The obvious
exception, her Act III-opening soliloquy, may be all Albee meant to allow her for significant nuance, but one
wishes to somehow catch more of the complexity within this historic character. For whatever reason, the
sameness of the dynamics in her exchanges, with volume being the primary modulator, grows tiresome
over the three hours. Her two-character scenes with George, which one expects to sound routine after
their years of marriage, feel like dead ends. For his part, Irwin fares better, able to create noticeable
topography as he maneuvers his underdog George around his sniping wife. There is more a sense that he
finds the sport in locking-horns with the bullying Martha. There's a noticeable rise in his energy level when
the Nick and Honey arrive, as if stoked by the fuel of two pieces of green firewood.
George is a history professor at an East Coast university where Martha’s father is president. Martha
spends her days at home, nurturing resentments at having proved a non-starter, and swallowing her pride
on shots from the rolling stock of liquor bottles. Albee knows that Martha’s biggest problem with men is not
George but Daddy. If anybody stunted her it was he. Martha, however, does not know this and that is
what makes these torturous hours intriguing. Rather than confront her own father, whom she is trapped in
childlike adoration of, she goes after her accommodating husband.
When the play begins, George and Martha are stumbling into the comfortable living room (designed with
loving detail by John Lee Beatty) after a dinner party for faculty at the home of Martha’s father. Following
another long day of gnawing at each other and a night of heavy drinking, George is ready to retire. But, at
her father’s request, Martha has invited another couple from the party to stop by. Kathleen Early is Honey
and David Furr is Nick, new to the production for L.A. Despite a voice that sounds unnatural (which may
be Page’s fault given the "overshrill" complaint from Brantley about an earlier actress), Early’s Honey feels
appropriately clueless. We can see the beginnings of another serious stay-at-home alcoholic in her
Honey. Furr has a bigger challenge, having to make Nick – even after hours of drinking at the Martha’s
father’s house – begin the play as an uptight and self-righteous man who will within hours reveal secrets
about his relationship with Honey and then have sex with the arguably influential but hardly appealing
Martha. It’s a tough row to hoe.
Martha’s castrating contempt for all men is the result of her unaddressed anger with her father. She
berates George for being a failure compared to the old man, hoping he’ll take the bait and channel her
loathing as proxy.
As the play’s title indicates, however, she is completely oblivious to these subconscious impulses. Martha
spontaneously comes up with the parody of the Disney tune “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?” during the
dinner party at the home of her father – her Big Bad Wolf. Her frightened subconscious carefully changes
the words to be about Virginia Woolf, which signals instead that Martha is educated while it invokes the
aura of a brilliant, suicidal woman. It nevertheless remains the taunting of an immature schoolgirl.
Martha’s most telling act of passive-aggression towards her father, however, is that she has brought Nick
and Honey home as a favor to her father, who wants them to feel more welcome in town. And then she
proceeds to do everything she can to destroy them.
by Edward Albee, directed by Anthony Page
Ahmanson Theatre, February 6-March 18, 2007
WITH Kathleen Early, David Furr, Bill Irwin, Kathleen Turner PRODUCTION John Lee Beatty, set; Jane
Greenwood, costumes; Peter Kaczorowski, lights; Mark Bennett/Michael Creason, sound; Rick Sordelet,
fight direction; Susie Cordon, stage management
The first names in the mythology of American marriage are George and Martha. For
the country’s first 180 years they stood for the Father of Our Country and our first
First Lady and reminded us that great lives are even greater when supported in
wholesome matrimony. In October 1962, with the Broadway premiere of Edward Albee’
s ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?,’ another set of George and Marthas -- the
Washingtons’ bi-polar opposites -- clawed their way to the top tier of marriage folklore
and claimed their places as the first family of Marital Strife.
In November 2005, under the direction of Anthony Page, Bill Irwin and Kathleen Turner became Broadway’s
latest George and Martha. A Ben Brantley benediction opened a box office flood that carried the cast to
London in 2006 and then earlier this month into L.A.’s Ahmanson Theatre. It arrives here amid much fanfare
and trailing awards from those previous stops: a Tony Award for Mr. Irwin, a London Critics Circle Award
for Ms. Turner and Brantley’s 'New York Times' declaration that Ms. Turner, “a movie star whose previous
theater work has been variable, finally secures her berth as a first-rate, depth-probing stage actress.”
It is now 45 years since the play’s controversial debut, when it earned the Pulitzer Prize for Drama only to
have the committee’s more powerful and less courageous members suspend the award that year because
of the
play’s language. Today, neither the language nor the vituperative husband and wife battles will ruffle
audiences used to profanity-spewing, chair-throwing guests common to viewers of Jerry Springer, Dr. Phil
and the like.
Still, Albee’s script leaves a sting. He had much more in mind than the shouting, and while we certainly
leave the Ahmanson with an appreciation for insight he has buried beneath the belligerence, there’s a
lingering sense that we are not seeing the definitive Martha. In Turner’s interpretation, she seems
particularly saddled with the requirement that she be dominant in every scrap of dialogue. The obvious
exception, her Act III-opening soliloquy, may be all Albee meant to allow her for significant nuance, but one
wishes to somehow catch more of the complexity within this historic character. For whatever reason, the
sameness of the dynamics in her exchanges, with volume being the primary modulator, grows tiresome
over the three hours. Her two-character scenes with George, which one expects to sound routine after
their years of marriage, feel like dead ends. For his part, Irwin fares better, able to create noticeable
topography as he maneuvers his underdog George around his sniping wife. There is more a sense that he
finds the sport in locking-horns with the bullying Martha. There's a noticeable rise in his energy level when
the Nick and Honey arrive, as if stoked by the fuel of two pieces of green firewood.
George is a history professor at an East Coast university where Martha’s father is president. Martha
spends her days at home, nurturing resentments at having proved a non-starter, and swallowing her pride
on shots from the rolling stock of liquor bottles. Albee knows that Martha’s biggest problem with men is not
George but Daddy. If anybody stunted her it was he. Martha, however, does not know this and that is
what makes these torturous hours intriguing. Rather than confront her own father, whom she is trapped in
childlike adoration of, she goes after her accommodating husband.
When the play begins, George and Martha are stumbling into the comfortable living room (designed with
loving detail by John Lee Beatty) after a dinner party for faculty at the home of Martha’s father. Following
another long day of gnawing at each other and a night of heavy drinking, George is ready to retire. But, at
her father’s request, Martha has invited another couple from the party to stop by. Kathleen Early is Honey
and David Furr is Nick, new to the production for L.A. Despite a voice that sounds unnatural (which may
be Page’s fault given the "overshrill" complaint from Brantley about an earlier actress), Early’s Honey feels
appropriately clueless. We can see the beginnings of another serious stay-at-home alcoholic in her
Honey. Furr has a bigger challenge, having to make Nick – even after hours of drinking at the Martha’s
father’s house – begin the play as an uptight and self-righteous man who will within hours reveal secrets
about his relationship with Honey and then have sex with the arguably influential but hardly appealing
Martha. It’s a tough row to hoe.
Martha’s castrating contempt for all men is the result of her unaddressed anger with her father. She
berates George for being a failure compared to the old man, hoping he’ll take the bait and channel her
loathing as proxy.
As the play’s title indicates, however, she is completely oblivious to these subconscious impulses. Martha
spontaneously comes up with the parody of the Disney tune “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?” during the
dinner party at the home of her father – her Big Bad Wolf. Her frightened subconscious carefully changes
the words to be about Virginia Woolf, which signals instead that Martha is educated while it invokes the
aura of a brilliant, suicidal woman. It nevertheless remains the taunting of an immature schoolgirl.
Martha’s most telling act of passive-aggression towards her father, however, is that she has brought Nick
and Honey home as a favor to her father, who wants them to feel more welcome in town. And then she
proceeds to do everything she can to destroy them.
The Marvelous
Wonderettes
El Portal Theatre
Laguna Playhouse
Geffen Playhouse
Ahmanson Theatre
Wonderettes
El Portal Theatre
Laguna Playhouse
Geffen Playhouse
Ahmanson Theatre
Kathleen Turner
Bill Irwin
CRAIG SCHWARTZ
Bill Irwin
CRAIG SCHWARTZ
FEBRUARY PAGE 1 PAGE 2
The Marvelous Wonderettes
written and directed by Roger Bean, choreography by Janet Miller, musical direction by Allen
Everman, orchestrations by Brian Baker
El Portal Forum Theatre • September 29 through February 3 (extended into September)
WITH Kirsten Chandler, Kim Huber, Julie Dixon Jackson, Bets Malone PRODUCTION Kurt Boetcher, set;
Sharell Martin, costumes; Jeremy Pivnick, lights; Cricket S. Myers, sound; Jeff Weeks, wigs; Pat Loeb, stage
manager
An evening with ‘The Marvelous Wonderettes’ may look to be more trite time travel to
the over-rhapsodized 1950s, but it breaks though its camp boundaries to free a score
of radio hits from dashboard grills and Oldies bins for a touching, torchy, hilarious
revue of show-stoppers. Roger Bean’s just-enough story and direction, Janet Miller’s
imaginatively busy choreography, and the deft musical and comedic timing of Kirsten
Chandler, Kim Huber, Julie Dixon Jackson and Bets Malone give “Girl Groups" of the
‘50s and ‘60s their own green acre of rock ‘n’ roll heaven.
Bean’s bio, which boasts his having “written 10 musicals,” might lead one to believe this “New Pop Hit
Musical Comedy” is an original. But the opening “bom-bom-bom” arpeggios of “Mr. Sandman” make it clear
we’re safely in charted waters. While the script isn’t anything to write home about it, it serves thepurpose
of sketching the characters and stitching together the tunes. And, though it outlines the four friends along
thick stereotypical lines -- the boy-stealing babe, the gum-chewing bimbette, the four-eyed geek -- these
actors provide more than enough color to make them real. The producers and set designers have also
provided little touches help the El Portal Theater (in North Hollywood, California) an environmental
experience. These include marking a door in the lobby as the principal’s office, hanging championship
banners in the gymnasium – mostly for chess and golf – and bits of non-threatening audience participation
extend a good-natured atmosphere of the day.
Chandler, Huber, Jackson and Malone play high school seniors pressed into service as Prom entertainment
when Springfield High’s go-to group, the all-male Crooning Crabcakes, are, well, delinquent. The device
serves to excuse a concert format for these numbers, with the characters becoming increasingly
individualized as the songs proceed. The line between the foursome's singing of popular hits and using
specific songs to reveal something about themselves blurs as the evening wears on, especially in the
second act. This, and the planting in the dialogue peripheral character names that will later pop up in lyrics,
adds to the fun.
Thank goodness for bad Crabcakes. In forcing the distaff replacements to the fore, they create a rare
showcase for four first-rank singers usually relegated to Broadway replacement casts, national tours and
starring roles in the hinterlands. As a foursome the star-power sum is greater than the fame of its parts.
Each performer is excellent, and every audience member will have a favorite. Favoritism, in fact, is
encouraged: ballots for Prom Queen are collected midway in one of the bits of audience involvement. But
the wind seems to be with Huber, who as the nebbishy Missy gets an arc from gawkiest to most fulfilled.
She also is the only one to get a real object for her desires in one of the evening's highlights, “Secret Love”/”
Mr. Lee.”
In his introduction to ‘The New York Times’ ‘Great Songs of Broadway, the learned Alan Jay Lerner wrote
that “an untrained musician can pick out a tune with one finger on a piano that may very well become a hit,
but – and I repeat – but, it will never – and I repeat – never, endure. A genuine composer may pick out a
melody with one finger on the piano and it can last forever.” The marvel and the wonder of ‘The Marvelous
Wonderettes’ is that for two hours, a deck of four queens turn some 50-year-old radio hits into enduring
musical theater.
written and directed by Roger Bean, choreography by Janet Miller, musical direction by Allen
Everman, orchestrations by Brian Baker
El Portal Forum Theatre • September 29 through February 3 (extended into September)
WITH Kirsten Chandler, Kim Huber, Julie Dixon Jackson, Bets Malone PRODUCTION Kurt Boetcher, set;
Sharell Martin, costumes; Jeremy Pivnick, lights; Cricket S. Myers, sound; Jeff Weeks, wigs; Pat Loeb, stage
manager
An evening with ‘The Marvelous Wonderettes’ may look to be more trite time travel to
the over-rhapsodized 1950s, but it breaks though its camp boundaries to free a score
of radio hits from dashboard grills and Oldies bins for a touching, torchy, hilarious
revue of show-stoppers. Roger Bean’s just-enough story and direction, Janet Miller’s
imaginatively busy choreography, and the deft musical and comedic timing of Kirsten
Chandler, Kim Huber, Julie Dixon Jackson and Bets Malone give “Girl Groups" of the
‘50s and ‘60s their own green acre of rock ‘n’ roll heaven.
Bean’s bio, which boasts his having “written 10 musicals,” might lead one to believe this “New Pop Hit
Musical Comedy” is an original. But the opening “bom-bom-bom” arpeggios of “Mr. Sandman” make it clear
we’re safely in charted waters. While the script isn’t anything to write home about it, it serves thepurpose
of sketching the characters and stitching together the tunes. And, though it outlines the four friends along
thick stereotypical lines -- the boy-stealing babe, the gum-chewing bimbette, the four-eyed geek -- these
actors provide more than enough color to make them real. The producers and set designers have also
provided little touches help the El Portal Theater (in North Hollywood, California) an environmental
experience. These include marking a door in the lobby as the principal’s office, hanging championship
banners in the gymnasium – mostly for chess and golf – and bits of non-threatening audience participation
extend a good-natured atmosphere of the day.
Chandler, Huber, Jackson and Malone play high school seniors pressed into service as Prom entertainment
when Springfield High’s go-to group, the all-male Crooning Crabcakes, are, well, delinquent. The device
serves to excuse a concert format for these numbers, with the characters becoming increasingly
individualized as the songs proceed. The line between the foursome's singing of popular hits and using
specific songs to reveal something about themselves blurs as the evening wears on, especially in the
second act. This, and the planting in the dialogue peripheral character names that will later pop up in lyrics,
adds to the fun.
Thank goodness for bad Crabcakes. In forcing the distaff replacements to the fore, they create a rare
showcase for four first-rank singers usually relegated to Broadway replacement casts, national tours and
starring roles in the hinterlands. As a foursome the star-power sum is greater than the fame of its parts.
Each performer is excellent, and every audience member will have a favorite. Favoritism, in fact, is
encouraged: ballots for Prom Queen are collected midway in one of the bits of audience involvement. But
the wind seems to be with Huber, who as the nebbishy Missy gets an arc from gawkiest to most fulfilled.
She also is the only one to get a real object for her desires in one of the evening's highlights, “Secret Love”/”
Mr. Lee.”
In his introduction to ‘The New York Times’ ‘Great Songs of Broadway, the learned Alan Jay Lerner wrote
that “an untrained musician can pick out a tune with one finger on a piano that may very well become a hit,
but – and I repeat – but, it will never – and I repeat – never, endure. A genuine composer may pick out a
melody with one finger on the piano and it can last forever.” The marvel and the wonder of ‘The Marvelous
Wonderettes’ is that for two hours, a deck of four queens turn some 50-year-old radio hits into enduring
musical theater.
The Pursuit of Happiness
by Richard Dresser, directed by Andrew Barnicle
world premiere • Laguna Playhouse • January 1-February 4, 2007
WITH Tim Cummings, Preston Maybank, Matthew Reidy, DeeDee Rescher and Joanna Strapp
PRODUCTION Tom Buderwitz, set; Julie Keen, costumes, Paulie Jenkins, lights; David Edwards, sound;
Nancy Staiger, stage manager commissioned by The Laguna Playhouse
Richard Dresser respects the power of good writing. He establishes that in the
opening scenes of ‘The Pursuit of Happiness,’ premiering through February 4 at the
same Laguna Playhouse that commissioned it. The play begins with three soliloquies
by lay writers: Annie (DeeDee Rescher) is writing a boastful year-end missive to her
Christmas mailing list, her daughter Jody (Joanna Strapp) is editing her college
application essay, and her husband Neil (Matthew Reidy) is practicing a speech he’s
written for work. In the act of communicating their positions each reveals something
about both his or her character and their author’s skill. Similarly, while Dresser
infuses his work with the trappings of social relevance, he quickly reveals that, true
to its billing, this play is also out for a good time.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. A show can sacrifice significance for comedy if the comedy
works. And in Artistic Director Andrew Barnicle's excellent staging, it works well enough to redeem the
director for last year’s excruciating ‘And the Winner Is.’
In this ‘Pursuit of Happiness,' the fuzziest of the inalienable rights offered ‘in writing’ to declare
independence in 1776, Dresser looks at one generation's launch and the older generation's assessment of
their adulthood. But don't expect too much depth here. The vessel has definitely been streamlined for
laughs. Anything too taxing was tossed out with the tea. Points about materialism, dead-end jobs, parents
molding children as themselves, mid-life alienation, and kids who are wiser than their folks are here, but
just to frame the fun. The final twist-tie that hurriedly bags the plot points is also just too convenient for
words. Still, larger themes of lost ideals can occasionally be glimpsed beneath the sketch-comedy like a
playful leviathan shadowing a ship. We are reminded that when Annie and Neil were college age, children
were suddenly adamantine in declaring independence from their parents. Forty years ago, post-war
affluence had created the first youth market, drugs had hit the middle class, and televisions had carried
images of it all into most living rooms. This fueled a sense of unity and entitlement that forged the youth
secession of the late ‘60s. That may have been temporarily lost on Annie and Neil, but it will still resonate
for many in the audience -- especially those who brought their own reference points with them.
Carrying the ball are Rescher and Strapp, who provide diametric balance to Dresser’s trans-generational
turntable. Rescher is responsible for gaining most of the yardage and she keeps Annie amusing and
winning. She gets superb support from Preston Maybank as a former college friend now in an important
position – at least for the plot. Maybank brings pitch perfect honesty to this bad-hair cast-off from Annie’s
past, earning his laughs and our empathy. One of Maybank’s best recent outings. Cummings registers well
as Tucker, who serves as foil for both father and daughter. In Tucker, a co-worker of Neil’s who gets
brought home on a daughter-recommended attempt to make a new friend, Dresser lowers the IQ to turn up
the slapstick. Cummings, taking more license than the others, nails his lines with a dead-on-arrival delivery
reminiscent of Steven Wright. In the Tucker-Jody scenes, Cummings and especially Stapp make the most
of their chance to develop their characters as slightly more than reactive set-ups for Annie and Neil.
Tom Buderwitz has a sturdy set that fills the proscenium with the drama's principle residence. Pallets slide
in and out stage left and right for additional scene locations. Julie Keen’s costumes are unobtrusive and
she does have fun with sad-sack Tucker's choices. Lighting Designer Paulie Jenkins sets up a nice grid
that lets everyone be nicely observed, and sound designer David Edwards provides his usual fine tuning.
From its Christmas letter opening to its ‘My Back Pages’ curtain call, this is light entertainment that works,
especially for the Boomers who remember when it was taken for granted that ideals would always be
with us.
Ah, but we were so much older then.
by Richard Dresser, directed by Andrew Barnicle
world premiere • Laguna Playhouse • January 1-February 4, 2007
WITH Tim Cummings, Preston Maybank, Matthew Reidy, DeeDee Rescher and Joanna Strapp
PRODUCTION Tom Buderwitz, set; Julie Keen, costumes, Paulie Jenkins, lights; David Edwards, sound;
Nancy Staiger, stage manager commissioned by The Laguna Playhouse
Richard Dresser respects the power of good writing. He establishes that in the
opening scenes of ‘The Pursuit of Happiness,’ premiering through February 4 at the
same Laguna Playhouse that commissioned it. The play begins with three soliloquies
by lay writers: Annie (DeeDee Rescher) is writing a boastful year-end missive to her
Christmas mailing list, her daughter Jody (Joanna Strapp) is editing her college
application essay, and her husband Neil (Matthew Reidy) is practicing a speech he’s
written for work. In the act of communicating their positions each reveals something
about both his or her character and their author’s skill. Similarly, while Dresser
infuses his work with the trappings of social relevance, he quickly reveals that, true
to its billing, this play is also out for a good time.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. A show can sacrifice significance for comedy if the comedy
works. And in Artistic Director Andrew Barnicle's excellent staging, it works well enough to redeem the
director for last year’s excruciating ‘And the Winner Is.’
In this ‘Pursuit of Happiness,' the fuzziest of the inalienable rights offered ‘in writing’ to declare
independence in 1776, Dresser looks at one generation's launch and the older generation's assessment of
their adulthood. But don't expect too much depth here. The vessel has definitely been streamlined for
laughs. Anything too taxing was tossed out with the tea. Points about materialism, dead-end jobs, parents
molding children as themselves, mid-life alienation, and kids who are wiser than their folks are here, but
just to frame the fun. The final twist-tie that hurriedly bags the plot points is also just too convenient for
words. Still, larger themes of lost ideals can occasionally be glimpsed beneath the sketch-comedy like a
playful leviathan shadowing a ship. We are reminded that when Annie and Neil were college age, children
were suddenly adamantine in declaring independence from their parents. Forty years ago, post-war
affluence had created the first youth market, drugs had hit the middle class, and televisions had carried
images of it all into most living rooms. This fueled a sense of unity and entitlement that forged the youth
secession of the late ‘60s. That may have been temporarily lost on Annie and Neil, but it will still resonate
for many in the audience -- especially those who brought their own reference points with them.
Carrying the ball are Rescher and Strapp, who provide diametric balance to Dresser’s trans-generational
turntable. Rescher is responsible for gaining most of the yardage and she keeps Annie amusing and
winning. She gets superb support from Preston Maybank as a former college friend now in an important
position – at least for the plot. Maybank brings pitch perfect honesty to this bad-hair cast-off from Annie’s
past, earning his laughs and our empathy. One of Maybank’s best recent outings. Cummings registers well
as Tucker, who serves as foil for both father and daughter. In Tucker, a co-worker of Neil’s who gets
brought home on a daughter-recommended attempt to make a new friend, Dresser lowers the IQ to turn up
the slapstick. Cummings, taking more license than the others, nails his lines with a dead-on-arrival delivery
reminiscent of Steven Wright. In the Tucker-Jody scenes, Cummings and especially Stapp make the most
of their chance to develop their characters as slightly more than reactive set-ups for Annie and Neil.
Tom Buderwitz has a sturdy set that fills the proscenium with the drama's principle residence. Pallets slide
in and out stage left and right for additional scene locations. Julie Keen’s costumes are unobtrusive and
she does have fun with sad-sack Tucker's choices. Lighting Designer Paulie Jenkins sets up a nice grid
that lets everyone be nicely observed, and sound designer David Edwards provides his usual fine tuning.
From its Christmas letter opening to its ‘My Back Pages’ curtain call, this is light entertainment that works,
especially for the Boomers who remember when it was taken for granted that ideals would always be
with us.
Ah, but we were so much older then.
Kim Huber
Kristen Chandler
Bets Malone
Julie Dixon Jackson
MICHAEL LAMONT
Kristen Chandler
Bets Malone
Julie Dixon Jackson
MICHAEL LAMONT
DeeDee Rescher
Preston Maybank
ED KREIGER
Preston Maybank
ED KREIGER
