On my list of favorite things I’ve experienced, this play, The House of Blue Leaves, ranks somewhere between migraine and root canal. It’s downbeat, mean spirited, and provides an extremely negative view of life and humanity, all in the guise of humor. And once you experience the ending, it becomes impossible to regard the rest of the show without a bitter aftertaste.
So, how is this revival production? It’s very well done, and the performances are superb. At the center of the action is small time zoo attendant, wannabe club singer/composer, Artie Shaughnessy. Ben Stiller couldn’t be better; he captures every nuance. One minute Artie is the quintessential buffoon, demanding quiet in a venue of obviously drunk and disinterested patrons.
The next, he’s a schemer, plotting his escape to California with his bubble headed (and haired) girlfriend, Bunny Flingus (Jennifer Jason Leigh). He shows real, though misplaced, fatherly pride in his son Ronnie (Christopher Abbott) who, he assures us, is doing great deeds in the army. Throw into the mix the scenes of unexpected tenderness with his clearly crazy spouse, and you have a character who holds our interest, if not our admiration.
I first “discovered” the acting marvel that is Edie Falco when she played the disturbed wife in Side Man. Here, as Bananas Shaughnessy, she never misses a beat. You can keep your eyes glued to Falco every minute she’s on stage (it’s hard not to), and never catch a false note in her performance. She’s comical without descending into goofiness. We feel for her, we root for her, and we wish we knew more about her. Agoraphobic, suicidal, delusional, yet still lovable, we want her story to end well, but in our hearts, we know it won’t.
Artie is hoping that his old childhood friend Billy (Thomas Sadoski), now a famous Hollywood director, will rescue him from his miserable existence. When Artie gets Billy on the phone, Stiller pours every ounce of desperation into the call. We can see him sweat and try to rise to the occasion. It’s horrifyingly uncomfortable, because we’ve all had those “what I shoulda said” moments.
Billy’s girlfriend, Corrinna Stroller, shows up at the decrepit Shaughnessy apartment, and marvels at the fact that it’s exactly as Billy has described it to her. Alison Pill is every inch the movie star; all blonde French twist, chic white suit with matching heels, and champagne shawl collared mink. Corrinna is scrumptious. She’s also profoundly deaf, having been injured during the shooting of one of fiancé Billy’s films. Pill’s high energy smile is constant and endearing. When she misunderstands a question and answers with a nonsequitur, she pulls off being hilarious, not offensive.
For the most part, the nuns who run through the apartment wanting to watch the Pope on TV, are pretty much a throwaway. The year is 1965, and manically excited because the Pontiff is visiting New York, they cavort like the Marx brothers in a French farce, and provide comic relief. But how fabulous it is to see Mary Beth Hurt on the Broadway stage again, albeit way too briefly. Won’t someone please produce a play worthy of her substantial acting talent? We miss her!
The Blue Leaves of the title are actually blue birds that fill the branches of a tree at the sanitarium where Artie plans to commit Bananas. If I have to sit through this depressing play one more time, I may be seeing them myself.
The House of Blue Leaves
Walter Kerr Theatre
219 West 48th Street
Michall Jeffers is an accomplished Cultural Journalist. She writes extensively, both in print and online. Her eponymous cable TV show is syndicated throughout the tri-state area, and features celebrity interviews, reviews, and commentary. She is a voting member of Drama Desk, Outer Critics Circle, American Theatre Critics Association, and International Association of Theatre Critics. www.michalljeffers.com
