It’s Only a Play

It’s opening night of a brand new Broadway play and the party is jam-packed with celebrities. Upstairs in the main bedroom, the cast, creatives, a critic and a coat-check boy are holed up, waiting for the reviews which will automatically ‘make’ or ‘break’ the show.  Homeowner Julia Budder is a first time, singular investor/producer and is well-intentioned despite being completely clueless.  Her Manhattan townhouse is very lushly decorated and she is the epitome of chic … but does she make good decisions when pouring her money into the theatre or merely suffer with delusions of cultural relevance?

The producer isn’t the only character who gets ribbed here though.  Playwrights, actors, directors, theatre owners, stage crews, critics and even elderly matinee patrons are in the firing line.  You don’t have to be overly familiar with either theatre or Broadway to find some humour amongst all of the jokes.

As the party rages on downstairs, various key players keep wandering in and out of Julia’s bedroom.  The most persistent presence here is James Wicker, played by Ross Alexander, a character actor who turned his back on the stage for a long-running TV series. He is partly here to support his playwright friend Peter Austin, played by Nick Roberts, and partly to reassure himself that he made the right decision when he turned down the lead role.  Peter wrote the role for him, but this doesn’t stop James gloating with arrogant bitchiness when the play turns out to be less-than-successful.  Alexander is appropriately arrogant and oozes a certain self-importance that famous people can be tarnished by.  Roberts is highly believable as the playwright who single-handedly wants to make America great again on Broadway.

The lead actress in the Broadway play is Virgina Noyes, brought to life here by Heather Pitt, and this character is responsible for the best parts of the play.  She pops pills, snorts coke and downs cocktails, all while hoping for career resuscitation after an unfortunate scandal.  Her ankle monitor can vibrate at the most inconvenient moments and Pitt knows exactly how to get the humour out of this script. Pitt belongs on the stage and this role is the perfect vehicle for her.  It seems that we can’t say the same thing about poor Virginia though.

The other main source of comedy here is the coat-check boy Gus, played by Cameron Drake, who is fresh off the bus and eager to be discovered by anyone who will listen to him sing.  Gus throws the coats of all the assembled guests on the bed and this running joke continues through the play.  At the director’s discretion, the incoming coats can reference the current Broadway landscape much to the amusement of the audience.  Once again, you don’t have to be overly familiar with either theatre or current events to appreciate references to Joseph, Hamilton or Lady Gaga.  Drake is wonderfully naïve and optimistic as the new kid in town, blissfully unaware that he is ripe to be exploited by older, immoral producers.  Drake’s diction, like Pitt’s, is perfectly clear and he has projection in spades.  Look out for him in more Pymble Players productions in the future.

Cassandra Gorman plays Julia Budder, the producer with more money than sense and Tim Wotherspoon plays Frank Finger, the exalted director from England who is very insecure, doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing and is a hopeless kleptomaniac on the side.  Gorman looks the part and does her best to convey a blonde bimbo.  Wotherspoon is comfortably eccentric and it feels like, as the only Brit in the room, that he doesn’t quite fit in.  This was all part of Terrence McNally’s cynical intention when this play debuted 40 years ago.  The complaints about Broadway at the time were that it was soulless, unimaginative and Brit-obsessed.