 |
|
Sorry for spoiling so many details of Lauria's writing, and his central characters of Charlie (whom he plays himself) and Dom (Richard Zavaglia). But when a play has only one joke, and it's so intricately intertwined with the breathlessly hyperextended plot, doing so is almost impossible avoid. (At least I didn't tell you how Charlie and Don dispose of their bodies.) To give credit where it's due, Lauria has put as friendly a spin as possible on the traditional mob plot. Certainly the result, The Odd Couple by way of Goodfellas, is not a bad idea. And thanks to his amiable writing and performance, which is choked with excitement but never by it, Dinner With the Boys maintains throughout the warm nature that's by far its best feature. That's something. Unfortunately, it's also the only thing. This is, at the most generous, a Saturday Night Live sketch stretched out to nearly two hours (counting intermission). Charlie and Dom bicker kindheartedly about their work, their food, the recent mysterious death of their friend Leo, and the troubles they're having working for Big Anthony Jr., who recently took over the family "business" from his father. "Easy, easy," Dom says at one point. "This is no good for your blood pressure, Charlie." "A lot you care for my blood pressure," he spits in response. Dominic comforts as only he can: "You won't be able to digest your dinner. You'll get agita!" Their pseudo-marital bliss is eventually interrupted, because it has to be, by the arrival of Anthony (Ray Abruzzo), who makes clear in no uncertain terms that neither of them is likely to see the end of the evening. Secrets, sauce, and probably some other red stuff get spilled. (Even Lauria can't make a show about hit men completely fluffy.) The second act is both more and less of the same, unfolding as it must in the aftermath of Lauria revealing everything and then having to somehow fill another 45 minutes before the lights can come down on the preordained resolution. It's all pretty difficult to swallow (pun not intended). Frank Megna's direction doesn't help: It's aggressively melodramatic, and overly relies on Jill Nagle's lights to elicit guffaws from moments that otherwise don't warrant them. (Jessica Parks's cozy New Jersey set is fine, as are Patricia E. Doherty's costumes.) There's no hint of understatement or effortlessness, which leads to underscoring every moment too blatantly for laughs to organically come. Zavaglia's too-feminine turn as Dom contributes to the same problem. He comes across as too "wifey," leaving nowhere for the humor, or Dom's relationship to Charlie, to bloom, and thus is rarely as funny as he acts like he is. Lauria's sitcom-father-like style, squishy but lined with observable edge, is much more accurate and effective. For the play to have a shot at working, however, all its actors need to be firing on all possible comic cylinders, and no one, including Abruzzo (who's got the gangster bit down but overplays the lighter moments), is here. (This full cast did the show at the New Jersey Repertory Company last year.) You can get an idea of what might have been from the actors who did the play's first public reading in Los Angeles a number of years ago: Charles Durning, Dom DeLuise, Peter Falk, and Jack Klugman. One suspects that their personalities and verve, honed over decades in the spotlight, could have filled in many of the gaps that cause Dinner With the Boys to leave you otherwise feeling very, very hungry.
Dinner With the Boys
|
