Review - Olive and The Bitter Herbs

The best known works of playwright/cross-dressing actor Charles Busch fall into two distinct categories. There are the plays he stars in and there are the plays populated by characters that probably regularly attend the plays he stars in.

Up until now, the latter category had only one entry, his comedy of Upper West Side manners, The Tale of The Allergist's Wife, but now Olive and The Bitter Herbs - which is not a play where Mr. Busch plays a 60s soul singer with three same-named backup singers - offers another taste of the kind of urban Jewish comedy that used to be mainstream Broadway fare. The message behind the supernatural aspect of his story may not be entirely clear, but Busch delivers the gags and zingers with crackling frequency, and with a great cast guided by director Mark Brokaw, the evening is clearly a riot.

The Olive in question is a cantankerous, elderly actress (an excellent Marcia Jean Kurtz); the only remaining renter in her Kips Bay co-op building ("It's not uptown, downtown or midtown. There's no charm or local color. We have a great abundance of dry cleaners.") She's played the classics of the stage but is most known for a popular series of commercials where her sneering face uttered the immortal catchphrase, "Gimme the sausage!" Though she has a history of not being easy to work with, her chance to be appreciated as a serious actress may have finally arrived as she's just shot four scenes as a guest star in a popular television drama, playing a Holocaust survivor suspected of killing a teenage Neo-Nazi.

The only positive influence in her life is Wendy (the terrific Julie Halston), a theatre company manager who has taken it upon herself to look after Olive. It's Wendy's affection for the title character, played with an Ethel Mertz-like sidekick appeal by Halston, that helps the audience like her, too. The author also gives Olive a painful speech about a cruel act performed by a past theatre company member, played with aching simplicity by Kurtz, that helps us sympathize.

"There's something in my body chemistry that provokes people to hurt me," says Olive, who believes that her new neighbors are "monsters" who entertain guests as late as nine at night and who are intentionally allowing the aroma of their pungent cheeses to permeate through the walls into her apartment.

They are, in actuality, a pretty nice couple. Robert (David Garrison) is one of those cultured, educated New York nice guys and his partner Trey (Dan Butler) has got the snarky zingers to match anything Olive can throw at him. Garrison and Butler play well at maneuvering through the tension in their characters' relationship. Robert was a very successful children's books editor, with Trey as his illustrator. But since Robert's retirement, Trey has had trouble getting work because the industry saw them as a team.

Also making an appearance is a sweet, teddy bear of a man named Sylvan (soft-spoken and loveable Richard Masur), the father of the co-op board president trying to act as peacemaker between Olive and his daughter. There is some attraction between Olive and the thrice-widowed Jew who has retired to Argentina, but what seems to attract everyone who enters the apartment is a large wall mirror mounted directly across from another mirror across the room. Everyone gets the sense that there's a familiar force of some kind drawing them to the mirror. Olive believes it to be a man namEd Howard.

Perhaps it's Howard that has influenced the unlikely kinship growing between this collection of souls and has convinced Olive to invite everyone over for Passover Seder. (This results in one of the play's funniest scenes where her negative spirit coats her explanation of the symbols of the Seder plate.) But while Howard is never quite satisfactorily explained, the unraveling of connections between each character and the man in the mirror gives the second act a hilarious few minutes of writing and timing.

I suspect Howard, or whatever is in that mirror, has something to do with a positive energy trying to combat Olive's negative force, but not being sure doesn't bother me so much. Charles Busch's new play is wonderfully funny throughout and that's enough positive energy for me.

Photos by James Leynse: Top: Julie Halston and Marcia Jean Kurtz; Bottom: Dan Butler, Marcia Jean Kurtz, Richard Masur and David Garrison.

There isn't much to say about playwright/director Tony Georges' muddy drama of a dysfunctional East Texas marriage, Tricks The Devil Taught Me, except that what seems like a perfectly capable company of actors and designers have found themselves employed in the service of a play that is simply nowhere near ready to be seen.

The story of how Betty (Beth Grant) became an abrasive foul-mouthed drinker and her husband Don (Peter Bradbury) became a violent, two-bit crook is played out in 15 scenes, a prologue and an interlude which jump around the years spanning 1987 to 2010. Julie Jesneck and T.J. Linnard play younger versions of the couple, with Linnard doubling as their son, Jeremy, whose conception forced their marriage. A slip of paper inserted in the Playbill specifies the years when each scene takes place but the production itself never makes it clear what's happening when.

Issues of adultery, child abandonment, theft, religious intolerance and gunplay make their way into the plot and the twists and turns of the play's final, violent scene are so ludicrous and over-the-top that the audience members I attended with let go with uproarious laughter at each dramatic moment.

Rising above it all is Jodie Lynne McClintock, as Betty's close friend, church soloist Lorraine, giving an understated performance of realistic humor and dignity. Despite her prominent billing, Mary Testa spends no more than about ten minutes on stage in the 2½ hour production, drawing big laughs as a judgmental churchgoer trying her best to appear non-judgmental. While Testa can turn in fine dramatic performances when given the chance, she's more often called upon to utilize her talent for making the most innocuous lines funny with vocal inflections and facial expressions. Given a ridiculous cartoon wig to wear, she delivers what might be called "a Mary Testa performance" by those familiar with her work. It doesn't quite match the tone of the rest of the play, but she's by far the most polished and entertaining part of the evening.

Photos by Carol Rosegg: Top: Jodie Lynne McClintock and Beth Grant.

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