Theater Review by Michael Dale . . . .
There are two main reasons I accepted the invitation to review Joyce Griffen’s The Script In The Closet: A) My desire to spend my latter years as a theater reviewer spotlighting affordable Off-Off Broadway and indie theater created by underrepresented groups; and B) The blurb in the press release made the play seem really fun.
The “new farce,” it said, “follows the misadventures and jealousies of a Pulitzer Prize-winning, husband-and-wife writing team who discover untitled pages of a mystery screenplay on their shared laptop . . . Suspicions, accusations and jealousies pile up as the wife assumes her husband has taken a new writing partner—a move tantamount to infidelity.”
Oh, and there’s a third reason I accepted the invite. I didn’t notice until reading the virtual program that aside from being the playwright and director (also set and costume designer), Griffen also produced the play’s premiere mounting, running at La MaMa’s Downstairs Theater through March 17.
While authors producing their own Equity Showcases is often a financial necessity, also taking on the directorial chores (not to mention two of the major design elements) can be a sign that there’s nobody the artist in charge has to answer to. I know nothing of Ms. Griffen beyond her program bio, which is loaded with an impressive list of credits as a performer and contains two other stage writing credits, and I have no knowledge of the creative process has brought The Script In The Closet to one of the most prestigious and historic Off-Off Broadway houses in New York; but the show I witnessed at its second public performance suggests a lack of playwriting craft.
Most significantly, since the play is promoted as a farce, there was barely any laughter to be heard from the packed house. Just the occasional group murmurs of moderate amusement.
The primary problem is that we get no sense of the central pair, Lynn and Lionel Waters, functioning as a couple—either maritally or professionally. They’re rarely on stage together and never have a real conversation with one another. There’s no talk of their history together, nor of their literary style; and the unit set, depicting the living room of their Fifth Avenue duplex, is rather generic for the home of artistic people.
We get a hint of what could be in the performances and costumes, with Ruth Kavanagh flamboyantly modeling upscale chicness as Lynn, and Mark De Rocco playing her spouse as a weary schlub who seems uncomfortable in his formal wear.
The couple we do get a sense of right at the get-go is Robert (Patrick Huang) and Micha (Tina Harper), a pair of young actors hired to don Elmo and SpongeBob SquarePants costumes and entertain at a party for the Waters’ young son. The script the title refers to is the screenplay for a film Robert is up for, with a role that Micha believes could earn him an Oscar.
When the screenplay is accidentally left in the linen closet, it sets off a series of events relying on the premise that a laptop owned by a Pulitzer-winning writing team doesn’t require a password after being left unused.
It’s first discovered by the new nanny, Zoey (Charlotte Jones), an aspiring writer who is dating her editor and winds up sleeping with the Waters’ creepy older son, Carlton (Isaiah Stannard).
Zoey, who at one point is seen wearing a white dress (my guest, who has plenty of childcare experience, assured me that no nanny would wear white on the job), assumes the screenplay is the work of her employers and is inspired to type some of it into their laptop. This is the first of many times when characters who are alone speak aloud their weak motivations for their actions.
Zoey soliloquizes, “I know this character. I bet I could write him better than either one of the two great ones . . . I should type a new page or two. Just to loosen up my chops. Then delete it. Let’s see. I’ll re-type the last few pages to get into their rhythm, then see if I can match it. Become one with the masters.”
She doesn’t delete it, and the computer file is discovered and added onto by other characters, who are also alone and speak their motivations aloud. (Sometimes cell phone conversations serve the same purpose.)
Of course, complications and misunderstandings arise, involving the nosey domestic (Carrie Wilder), Carlton’s ex (Jada Delgado’s energetic performance and solid acting choices are the best thing about the production) and Lynn and Lionel’s married friends Valerie (Kristin Johansen) and Noah (Tom Staggs), who serve as the hard-drinking hedonistic Fred and Ethel.
Name-dropping favorite night spots Tao, Le Cirque and The Plaza’s Oak Room without really giving a sense of them seems sophomoric, and most annoying, the phrase “sex toys” is repeated twelve times throughout the script, without descriptions of what types of devices they’re talking about, save for Noah’s graphic demonstration with a wedged pillow.
I take that back. Most annoying is when Micha throws her coffee in Robert’s face, and it turns out the prop cup is empty.
The Script In The Closet. Through March 17 at La MaMa’s Downstairs Theater (66 East 4th Street between Bowery & Second Avenue). Running time: one hour and fifty minutes with one intermission. www.lamama.org
Photos: Jonathan Slaff
