"Three by Gurney"
The late A.R.
(“Pete”) Gurney was a prolific playwright best known for his satirical
depictions of the decline of Northeast WASP society’s martini and sailboat set,
as in The Dining Room and The Cocktail Hour.
His plays are usually guaranteed to provide a pleasant evening of thoughtful
chuckles, even when his jibes aren’t specifically poking fun at the elites of his
own social class. |
| Colin Hanlon, Rachel Nicks. Photo: James Leynse. |
While most of Gurney’s over 60 theatrical works are standard
length, he also composed nine short plays, or one-acts, as they’re typically
called. One, “Final Follies,” completed not long before his passing last year
at 86, gives its name to and gets its world premiere in this lackluster three-by-Gurney program at the Cherry Lane. David Saint has directed all three plays,
with mixed results.
“Final Follies” is joined by 1965’s “The Rape of Bunny
Stuntz,” one of the playwright’s earliest works, originally produced at the
Cherry Lane itself, and 1969’s “The Love Course.” On his website, Gurney
claimed that the latter had received many amateur productions but never, to his
knowledge, a professional one. Seeing it may tell you why. He also said he
hoped it would eventually be produced with another of his one-acts, “The Open
Meeting.” Primary Stages, of course, has ignored that request in favor of the
other plays.
The program has its occasional pleasures, mainly because of
several performances. Each play uses the same James Youmans set outlining false
prosceniums in LED strip lights, with images projected on a central upstage
wall, all of it well lit by Cory Pattek. I’m sorry to report, though, that neither
Gurney’s ironically titled final play nor those from his salad days is particularly memorable.
For a play written so recently, “Final Follies” has a
curiously naïve, even dated quality in its depiction of a handsome,
well-dressed, but feckless, alcoholic young man’s desperate attempt to earn
money by becoming a porn actor. The folly here lies in Primary Stage’s decision
to stage this final Gurney play.
Nelson (Colin Hanlon), unable to hold any of the jobs his loving,
very wealthy grandfather (Greg Mullavey) arranged for him, answers an ad for an
adult film actor in the Village Voice (of
beloved memory). He’s interviewed and auditioned by Tanisha (Rachel Hicks), a
stunning former porn actress turned casting director and script writer.
Soon, he becomes a star in the films that the company advertises for the therapeutic
benefits they offer married couples (as if such a rationale was needed in
today’s world of 24/7 internet access).
Nelson’s jealous, hypocritical, churchgoing brother, Walter
(Mark Junek), hoping to bring his brother down, shows grandpa a DVD of Nelson
in action. To Walter’s chagrin, the geezer gets a rise out his grandson’s
spectacular performance.
 |
| Gregg Mullavey, Mark Junek. Photo: James Leynse. |
Everything on view is childish and unconvincing, sounding
more like a no-longer-with-it old dramatist’s fantasies than a knowledgeable
satire on the pornography industry. Also, the play’s romantic setup and conclusion
is further proof that Gurney should have quit while he was ahead.
 |
| Colin Hanlon, Rachel Nicks. Photo: James Leynse. |
There’s little to rave over in the acting although Rachel Nicks does good work. She also gets to wear a formfitting blue dress that provides
the most eye-catching feature of the evening. In fact, the clothes that designer David
Murin has given the actresses in each play are among the show’s most visually interesting
features.
 |
| Betsy Aidem, Deborah Rush. Photo: James Leynse. |
The best performance of all belongs to veteran
Deborah Rush in the vapid “The Rape of Bunny Stuntz.” Rush, playing the titular
suburban club lady, presides over a meeting of an undefined organization but is
unable to proceed when she can’t find the key to the small, metal box
containing the papers she needs. Bunny keeps delaying the meeting as she tries
to get the key by having the caretaker, Howie (Pitir Marek), go to her nearby
home to retrieve it from her preoccupied husband.
 |
| Deborah Rush, Piter Marek. Photo: James Leynse. |
Meanwhile, lurking in a red Impala in the close by parking
lot is an unseen guy in a black leather jacket who has the key, forcing the
obviously repressed Bunny to interact with him. She insists
she has no idea who he is even though we realize the pair has some guilty
connection related to a hotel room encounter.
 |
| Deborah Rush. Photo: James Leynse. |
Bunny’s harried assistant, Wilma (Betsy Aidem), struggles
to get the meeting back on track, but eventually leaves, while Howie gets drunk
and parties with the attendees waiting in the basement for the meeting to
resume. Left alone, albeit with enough of us present for her to address,
Bunny’s words gradually evolve into a confession.
Rush, wearing a perfectly coiffed wig in classic 60s
bouffant style, and a pretty, flowered frock, is terrific at maintaining
Bunny’s forced positivity and crumbling self-confidence in the face of
potential embarrassment. The play, which seems designed to expose the
secret sexual longings of uptight suburban matrons, holds little interest
beyond the opportunities it offers for the actress playing Bunny.
After a 15-minute intermission, the 90-minute show concludes
with “The Love Course,” whose comic purpose is to explore the way in which the
erotic lives of teachers are tied up with the subjects they teach. After
playing the meeting participants in “The Rape of Bunny Stuntz,” the audience now
figures as the imaginary class.
 |
| Betsy Aidem, Piter Marek. Photo: James Leynse. |
The married Prof. Burgess (Marek) and the single Prof.
Carroway (Aidem) have a popular team-teaching partnership in their course on
the literature of romantic love. However, Carroway has been denied tenure and
will be leaving for a position at Mt. Holyoke, while Burgess has been removed
from the classroom to serve as an administrator. This is their last class, and
the romantic tensions between them, which also involve Burgess’s jealous wife
(unseen), bubble to the surface.
 |
| Rachel Nicks, Betsy Aidem, Piter Marek. Photo: James Leynse. |
Also involved are two representative students, Mike (Hanlon,
much better here than in “Final Follies”) and his girlfriend Sally (Nicks), sitting
in the first row. Mike, an electrical engineering student with no interest in
the subject, is there only because Sally is crazy about the course and its
teachers. Their relationship, naturally, is tied to the content of the course.
 |
| Colin Hanlon, Piter Marek. Photo: James Leynse. |
The emotionally volatile Carroway is dressed in another
Murin highlight, a showily colorful silk robe, although it does tend to make
her look more like Mme. Arcati in Blithe
Spirit, an image Aidem’s amusingly eccentric performance does little to
dispel. The more professorially garbed Burgess, with his mop of unruly silver
hair, also behaves so broadly that we understand at once why the pair is known
for their flamboyant theatricality.
As they work out their conflicts through readings from Wuthering Heights and Antony and Cleopatra, their excessive antics push the work so far into farcical territory that the work quickly loses touch with reality and runs out of comic gas.
As they work out their conflicts through readings from Wuthering Heights and Antony and Cleopatra, their excessive antics push the work so far into farcical territory that the work quickly loses touch with reality and runs out of comic gas.
Final Follies does
nothing to further polish A.R. Gurney’s reputation. Here’s hoping the next
Primary Stages staging of the playwright’s work will bring back the shine.
OTHER VIEWPOINTS:
Cherry Lane Theatre
38 Commerce St., NYC
Through October 21