L-R: Kristine Nielsen,Kate Burton, Kevin Kline (Photo: Joan Marcus)
Noel Coward’s comedy of mannerisms is primed with, or rather
saved by the brilliance of one actor whose talent and instincts catapult him beyond
the deficiencies and inefficiencies that otherwise define this mostly
insufferable revival. Bravo over and over
again to Kevin Kline who avoids the excesses that marred the last revival about
Garry Essendine the idolized, incredulously narcissistic middle-aged matinee
idol.
In this unconscionably dull production, that is except for
the decor-indulged setting (David Zinn) and the period-informed costumes (Susan
Hilferty) that are pre-determined to rise above the play’s more ironically
guarded (in 1939) rewards, it is the star, not the play, that benefits the
most. The overall misguidance of the play and misalliance of the players by director
Moritz Von Stuelpnagel (“Hand to God”) has turned this once fastidiously sly
and amusing, if meticulously veiled, romp into an all-out fiasco. To its sole
credit, it purposefully avoids the high camp farce that we got on Broadway twenty-one
years ago with Frank Langella.
Except for his well-executed, if outlandish, entrance/confrontation
with a stair-railing, Kline also obliges with a performance that generously reeks
of self-adulation while also avoiding the hammy excesses that Coward would
undoubtedly have avoided given a character he wrote as a mirror of himself.
This is a production, however, in which the play’s core of innuendo
and suspicions has also been sacrificed? The regrettable pursuits and relentless
retreats that identify Essendine’s dizzily entwining sexual intrigues are still
intended to be fun to watch and listen to, as they remain enigmatic.
Unfortunately the supporting cast is definitely not fun to watch and seem awkwardly
at odds with each other as well as with the play itself. The problems begin and
remain with the supporting players who seem to have wandered in from some theatrical
universe where high comedy and low comedy are interchangeable.
Biggest offender is Bhavesh Patel as the grotesquely posturing,
close to maniacal, playwright perilously enamored of Garry. He seemed to have
stepped out of another time and place, as does the usually delightful Kristine
Nielsen, who keeps her now familiar mannerisms to a minimum to get the maximum
mileage out of her role as Garry’s snippy devoted secretary. But she too seems to
be among the misplaced persons that surround the ever preening Garry. It is a
joy, however to see how this particularly attractive Garry (not far removed
from the airs identified with suave cinema legend Ronald Coleman) confronts the
various callers and colleagues, romantic or otherwise in his London apartment
with an overriding air of nobless oblige.
This, on the eve of his embarking on a repertory tour of
Africa. Not one of the supporting cast appear to have either that almost
ingrained latitude, style, tone or the will and perseverance to compete with
Kline. Kate Burton comes on and stays on with her usual level of unexceptional
competence as Liz, Garry’s wifely, never divorced but now in name only his personal
and social guardian. Even looking less secure and more uncomfortable among the usually
obligatory attitudes of Coward-land are Reg Rogers and Peter Francis James as
Garry’s chummy business associates.
Except for looking chic and provocative in the knock-out
black dress designed by Susan Hilferty, Cobie Smulders otherwise confirms that there
is less here than meets the eye as a manipulating married seductress. Also unconvincing
in the extreme are Tedra Millan as an infatuated debutante and Ellen Harvey as the
almost incoherent, chain-smoking Swedish maid. Quite unexpectedly was Matt
Bittner the least guilty of misplaced Cowardly aplomb as Garry’s valet. And what
on earth is this intimate, facile and brittle play doing in the massive St.
James Theatre? Perhaps it is noblesse oblige that keeps one from saying any
more.
“Present Laughter” at the St. James Theatre.
From 3/10/16;
opening 4/05/17; closing 7/02/17
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