David Beach and Michael McCormick in “Room Service.”
Photo by Carol Rosegg
Watching a play is like going on a
first date – you don’t know what to expect, you’re hoping for the best and
dreading the worst and, of course, the evening is influenced by first
impressions, those first minutes when you make judgments, perhaps wrong,
but…they flavor the rest of the evening. If the guy has some spinach nested
between his teeth, well, even if the spinach disappears (or dissolves), your
mind’s eye keeps going back to the offensive piece of greenery, and there’s
nothing he can do to erase the initial unease. Such is the case with “Room
Service,” which recently opened at the Westport Country Playhouse, a 1930’s
farce by John Murray and Allen Boretz that starts ever so slowly, eventually
takes flight, yet is burdened by that spinach.
The set-up is we have a producer,
Gordon Miller (Ben Steinfeld) who is dead broke. He’s been rehearsing a play
for weeks yet is unable to pay his actors. Since it’s the 30’s, the actors are
willing to hang in there for room and board, which means they are all
living in a second-rate hotel in
Manhattan and charging everything to Miller’s account. The bill comes due,
Miller can’t pay, so he has to find ways to forestall the inevitable until the
lights finally go up and the play is a success, which means he has to find a
backer.
Jim Bracchitta in “Room Service” Photo by Carol Rosegg
Well, it takes most of the first
act of this three-act play to set up the premise, and things drag as exposition
is dealt with. By the time it comes for door slamming (it is a farce, after
all) and controlled insanity, including a farcical faked suicide, it all seems
somehow beside the point. Some in the audience began to laugh, others just
yawned.
Farce, if it is to work well,
relies on timing and chemistry, and neither is evident in this production.
Director Mark Lamos, the Playhouse’s artistic director, has his head in the
right place, for there are moments of controlled chaos and delightful delirium,
but the heart just doesn’t seem to be there, but perhaps it isn’t entirely his
fault, for the set he has been given to work with, designed by John Arnone, is
extremely restrictive. The full stage is not taken advantage of, and the set,
which consists of a cheesy hotel room, is dominated by a sofa, two beds and a bulky
chair, all positioned so that the blocking (how and where the actors move) is
restricted, forcing much of the action down-stage. Thus, many scenes are played
with the actors basically in a row, something not conducive to interaction, and
line-of-sight has been given little consideration. If you are not sitting in
the center orchestra section then you see a skewed version of the play.
Seated, Ben Steinfeld, Eric Bryant, Jim
Bracchitta;
Standing Richard Ruiz and Zoë Winters
Photo by Carol Rosegg
And then there is the rhythm of the
lines delivered by many of the actors. It entails basically searching for a
laugh, which means you get: beat – beat – beat – BEAT!! Emphasis on the punch
word. And if that is not enough to make the point, Lamos has his actors pause
and give a knowing look out at the audience when delivering a line pregnant
with double-entendre (“He can’t keep it up for two hours.”) Racy, perhaps, in
the 1930’s, but now a bit banal...and, yes, we get it.
The play’s curtain call has a lot
of frivolity to it…characters start to dance, are playful…would that that sense
of joyful mania had been infused from the beginning. As it is., “Room Service”
is a farce wannabe. You’re waiting for the moment when the play lifts off and
flies but, alas, it never does, and a lot of good work in the second and third
acts is discounted because of the first act, and the spinach in the teeth.
“Room Service” runs through Oct 27.
For tickets or more information call 203-227-4177 or go to
www.westportplayhouse.org
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