The Distracted Globe's mission is to produce classic comedies. Classic. And it is with great sorrow that I announce to you that the 80s are now considered classic. The 80s! When the hope of a jacuzzi inspired every man, and the promise of a salad bar could salvage the worst of blind dates. Also, the 80s of raging jewel tones and America's sexual identity crisis, a-bi-homo-what-on-earth-am-I-sturm-und-drang. In all this mess, it's important to have a therapist, don't you think? It's what the characters in Christopher Durang's “Beyond Therapy” would tell you. Especially the therapists.
Dr. Charlotte Wallace's programme for mental health in this milieu: sleep with whomever, whenever. Hurl vulgar epithets whenever the desire o'erwhelms you. Blind all the horses with a metal spike. It never hurts to hug Snoopy. For this sage advice you will pay more than a few pretty pennies. Just don't expect the therapist to listen real well (or at all)—or even remember your name. The poor saps who fall into Dr. Wallace's (and Dr. Framingham's) clutches...did I say clutches? I meant crotches. No! I meant, couches. Couches. The poor saps who fall into the therapists' couches act out this absurd regimen to hilarious results. Especially the therapists.
All the actors—Jared Johnson's creepy Bruce who is trying to woo Jennifer Goff's unsteady Prudence while also living with his lover (Justin Walker's stiff Bob, who wishes to lay Moses L. Rickett's none-too-empathetic Waiter)—they're all a riot—ungainly, wobbly on their feet and in their emotional lives. Especially the therapists: Rick Connor's strung-out, macho Dr. Framingham, and Kelly Wallace's psycho Dr. Wallace. While it's obvious these therapists are little more than sexual predators and voyeurs par excellence—they're the humorous highlight of the show.
Kelly is a relative newcomer to the Greenville stages, and this is her juiciest and most triumphant performance to date. If you can survive the sexual meet ups and break ups and swap outs--and Durang's often self-indulgent script (2 hours? Really?)—it's worth it to see this performance. Wallace sings! (And I'm not talking about the sort of singing done by Bob's possibly transvestite mother.) Kelly's perfectly tuned to this bizarre role, and I'd give all my pennies to sit on her couch and watch her work her crack-pot magic again.
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Christopher Durang's “Beyond Therapy,” directed by Michele Labar. Presented by The Distracted Globe Theatre Company at Warehouse Theatre, 37 Augusta St., Greenville (864) 235-6948. Through July 31. Tickets $7.50.
Corie Bratter is newly married and in love with everything—the backwards plumbing in her fifth-floor apartment (be sure to flush up), the hole in the skylight, the exorbitant rent, the lack of cups (old tin can, anyone?), and especially, especially her new phone (princess style, in beige, lights up). She's in love with it all for ten whole minutes, about the time it takes for hubby climb home with a promotion and a briefcase full of work and the honeymoon is so over, baby. The audience, however, is just about to fall madly in love with Distracted Globe's summer offering: Neil Simon's “Barefoot in the Park.” It's a buoyant party of a play—and a smashing way to spend a hot Greenville night.
Elizabeth Finley is a gas to watch as the flighty housewife, and her husband Paul is delivered up by Thomas Hudgins, a man fluent with the fumblings of the newly married man. Then there's the upstairs neighbor, the aged gourmet and womanizer from Eastern Europe—a hilarious role for Jayce T. Tromsness. Of course he's in love with the pretty young thing downstairs. Of course he's way more fun than the stuffed shirt of a lawyer husband, especially after said neighbor has downed a few ouzos. And of course, of course, Corie's mother is quite offended. Hurt, really. She needs to go home and give herself a Toni Home Permanent. (But actor Anne Tromsness is such a dear, you hope she'll keep dragging herself up those five--or is it six?--flights of stairs, for unannounced visits.)
Director Jennifer Goff has created an energetic and touching production, despite Simon's shopworn advice to the newly married woman (item #2: just stroke the male ego a bit, and you'll be fine). It's advice that (thankfully) gets lost in this kerfuffle of comedy, and the characters just might succeed in finding their own marital balance—but not before a few more gaffs pack the audience off laughing.
Be sure to drop in on Bratters while you can. Tell them I sent you. I promise, you won't have to climb six flights of stairs to get there, but if you did, it would definitely be worth it.
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Neil Simon's “Barefoot in the Park,” directed by Jennifer Goff. Presented by The Distracted Globe Theatre Company at Warehouse Theatre, 37 Augusta St., Greenville (864) 235-6948. Through August 1. Tickets $7.50.