"Brother Hoods"
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| Stars range from 5-1. |
Like many of you, I immediately thought of the
old TV show “Queen for a Day” when I saw the title of this new play by Michael
Ricigliano, Jr., which is enjoying its world premiere at Theatre at St.
Clements. So, indeed, when he hears the phrase, does the play’s central
character, Giovanni “Nino” Cinquimani (David Proval), a Mafia soldier who’s
given the opportunity to receive immunity from prosecution if he agrees to
provide damning testimony about his younger brother, Pasquale “Pat” Cinquemani
(Vincent Pastore), a powerful Mafia boss. But, in this context, “Queen for a
Day,” which—given the plotline of Mr. Ricigliano’s drama—might be
intended as a double entendre, is a euphemism for a proffer agreement between a
person of interest and a federal prosecutor. According to the online Urban Dictionary (slightly
edited here):
In the American legal
system “queen for a day” refers to written documents that are designed to
create a potential mutually beneficial arrangement with the federal government
and a person of interest regarding a criminal investigation. The concept of a “queen
for a day,” more commonly known as proffer agreements, permits the accused
individual to disclose to authorities key points of knowledge to crimes
committed by that person and/or others, with implied assurance that said
knowledge will not be used against them in later proceedings.
The setup is that Nino has reluctantly allowed himself
to be interrogated by federal prosecutor Patricia Cole (Portia), a tough-minded African-American woman. Patricia meets with Nino in a dreary,
abandoned New Jersey warehouse (why always New Jersey?),
where she interrogates him in the presence of his lawyer, Sanford Weiss (David
Deblinger), who’s himself deeply involved in Nino’s dirty work. Every now and
then, the jittery, chain-smoking Nino checks the doorway to make sure no one’s
spying.
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| From left: David Proval, Portia, David Deblinger. Photo: Russ Rowland. |
For the first hour of this 90-minute, no-intermission
play, the well-prepared Patricia questions Nino, so we get lots and lots and
lots of exposition about his upbringing in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and his
various mob experiences. The chief theme that emerges is about the importance
of remaining loyal to one’s family, both the Mafia family at large and that of the
Cinquimani family: the mobster brothers and their parents. Nino
struggles with the demand that he betray his brother and the mob. Although he’s
been married to the same woman for 44 years, he’s had a secret life that forced
him to make a terrible sacrifice, and he continues to bear the guilt from what
he had to do.
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| From left: David Deblinger, Portia, David Proval. Photo: Russ Rowland. |
After an act of violence erupts (a gun is revealed
early on so we’re not that surprised), Nino’s brother himself appears, and
further revelations emerge, leading to a bloody climax that, while a bit
far-fetched within this particular story, is nonetheless something
that might actually have happened within the ultra-macho world of Mafioso relationships.
If you know the fate of made man John “Johnny Boy” D’Amato you'll get my drift.
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| David Proval, David Deblinger. Photo: Russ Rowland. |
Mr. Ricigliano’s playmaking is generally tight, his
characters sound authentic, there’s a proper seasoning of laughs, and, while he
presents reams of exposition, the situation keeps us interested
in finding out what’s ahead. This is a play in which lies and secrets are
shaved away, which means that not everything is what you think it is, allowing
the writer to throw in unexpected twists. There are carefully planted hints for
some of these, while others seem to come out of nowhere. And therein lies the
rub, as the need to reverse the audience’s expectations can easily tamper with
plausibility. Which it does.
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| David Proval, Vincent Pastore. Photo: Russ Rowland. |
Andrea Mincic’s set is a gray, unadorned room with
concrete walls, a dirty overhead window, a table, a desk, a water cooler, and some
chairs. Shafts of cool light created by Isabella F. Byrd establish a sense of
isolation and gloom, but Ms. Byrd has either chosen to keep Mr. Pastore’s face
in shadows much of the time or the actor doesn’t know how to seek his hot spot.
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| David Proval, Vincent Pastore. Photo: Russ Rowland. |
Under the usually smooth direction of John Gould Rubin
(despite his clumsy handling of the play’s final moment), Messrs. Proval, Pastore,
and Deblinger do what you expect of actors who’ve been making their living in
this genre: they have the proper moves, accents, and gravitas to convince you
of their characters’ reality. (The casting of Mr. Proval and Mr. Pastore as brothers, however, is a stretch.) Mr. Proval, using his fluttering hands to suggest
Nino’s jumpiness, is vividly expressive, although his dark, three-piece suit (costumes
are by Bobby Frederick Tilley) makes him look more like a banker than the fashion
plate described in the script. Portia’s prosecutor is quite well acted, but her role
is the play’s most problematic, and, for all its momentary melodramatic
effectiveness, ends up leaving us with the play’s biggest unanswered questions.
Vincent Pastore played Big Pussy and David Proval was
Richie Aprile on TV’s “The Sopranos,” on which Mr. Deblinger also appeared. Four
blocks away, Dan Lauria’s just opened mob comedy, the overcooked DINNER WITH
THE BOYS, includes another important “Sopranos” goombah in Ray Abruzzo. Neither
play comes close to the quality of that great series, but if this reviewer had
to whack one of them, he knows which one it would be.
Theatre
at St. Clements
423
West 46th Street, NYC
Through July 26