Charles Busch, the irreverent playwright of such dark comedies of Psycho Beach Party and Vampire Lesbians of Sodom has finally made the move to the main stem. Known as a writer of kitsch who loves B-movies and cross-dressing, there's a reason his latest creation, The Tale of the Allergist's Wife has finally given the playwright a Broadway nod after moving from the Manhattan Theatre Club: it's his most personal, and his least bitchy script yet. Written with star Linda Lavin in mind, and while reflecting on his own family, this is a play that still retains a certain amount of biting satire and darkness, but is tempered with enough of a middle-class sensibility to make it palatable to the Broadway patrons coming to be satirized. Gone is the cross-dressing catalyst, replaced by an iconic Michele Lee (a surprise blizzard kept her from the performance I reviewed, as well as Shirl Bernheim, the actress ordinarily playing the part of the mother). While Busch still interweaves his off-handed humor with the occasional dagger-sharp witticisms, this is a departure from the style that kept Vampire Lesbians running Off-Broadway for five years.
Marjorie is the well-kept wife of Ira, a world-renowned allergist whose good works on skin rashes and sinus ailments has brought him to a nearly sainted, and well-compensated, position in New York. Marjorie is a professional dabbler. She is well read to a fault. She's the kind of joiner who uses Kierkegaard and wine-tasting to cover her own fears of inadequacy. Those fears have finally surfaced, and she is in a state of mental collapse until a childhood friend, Lee, arrives unannounced, and gives her a glimpse of what her life could have been like had she not chosen to live on Riverside Drive in the shadow of a "great man." Lee is a traveler. She has credentials that would make a fan of popular culture swoon. She's slept with stars, inspired artists, and traveled the halls of the world's privileged. She slowly insinuates herself into Marjorie and Ira's lives, disrupting their Upper West Side staidness with an even more devastating question than "Who am I," but rather, "Why am I?" The bright light Lee shines on the couple and Marjorie's ascorbic Jewish mother, Frieda, threatens their unexplored lives.
There's a reason Busch has written for Ms. Lavin. She is easily capable of taking the audience through the roller coaster ride of Marjorie's harrowing journey with sympathy and much humor. Ms. Lavin is one of the greats, and her movement from gibbering depressant through screaming maniac to desperate sophisticate is worth the price of admission. The requirements of this role might well kill a lesser actress, but Ms. Lavin survives the struggle, and flourishes before the audience's eyes. Director Lynne Meadow has finessed a fine performance from her lead, and given the show a clipped pace that keeps the humor coming fast and furious, and made the satirical stings all the more effective for their off-handed tossing.
Tony Roberts offers a solid Ira, remaining distant and aloof through most of the evening, though giving a hilarious turn when Lee's manipulations become overwhelming. Despite being thrown in at the last minute, Rose Arrick is hilarious in the role of Marjorie's mother, breathing life into what could be a rather stereotypical role. The greatest disappointment of the evening was Ms. Lee's understudy, Jana Robbins, who, while also being thrown in at the last moment, did not rise to the occasion. She lacked power, flubbed several lines, and affected the pacing with her nervousness. One can only imagine how well the interactions between Ms. Lavin and Ms. Lee would have been.
Santo Loquasto's Riverside Drive living room and dining room is perfectly appointed, and Christopher Akerlind's lighting expressive. Ann Roth's costumes are superb.
While the end of Busch's debacle is a direct slice at his audience's jugular, and his humor is still intact, many fans of Busch's usual off-kilter ways may be disappointed by his movement toward the mainstream. Still, this playwright's first Broadway opening in his over three-decade career is an enjoyable romp through the squirming subconscious fears of those who can afford the ticket to ride. This is one that will have to be seen in New York, though. The scripts distinctly Manhattan sensibilities will not easily transfer to the Valley of the Sun., making it an unlikely choice for an Arizona theater company to produce.
Production Details:
The Tale of the Allergist's Wife
by Charles Busch
Manhattan Theatre Club
The Ethel Barrymore Theatre, New York City
(800) 432-7250
www.allergistswife.com