BWW Reviews: Neil Simon's LAUGHTER ON THE 23rd FLOOR at American Stage

I always thought the writing staff of "Your Show of Shows," that brilliant diamond from television's Golden Age, was like the '27 Yankees. With Larry Gelbart, Mel Tolkin, Mel Brooks, Woody Allen, Sid Caesar, and many others, they were like a teleplay version of Murderer's Row (Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Earle Combs, Tony Lazzerri, et al). It was the greatest starting lineup in television writing history. Who wouldn't want to be a fly on the wall in that room when Mel Brooks was going off or when Sid Caesar read some of his new destined-to-be-classic scenes for the first time? Well, in a way, we now get a chance to be that fly on the wall with Neil Simon's tribute to his days as a "Your Show of Shows" comedy writer, LAUGHTER ON THE 23RD FLOOR, which is currently playing at American Stage.

In LAUGHTER ON THE 23RD FLOOR, it's 1953, when McCarthyism is in full bloom and television is in its infancy. And on TV each week is the fictional version of "Your Show of Shows," "The Max Prince Show." This Neil Simon tribute plays like "My Favorite Year" without Peter O'Toole's Alan Swann. It's nicely written, deftly weighing the serious and the comic. Although brilliantly acted overall and quite fun, the nostalgia doesn't sustain. You don't leave the theatre reeling and re-playing the scenes in your head; you leave the theatre and, unfortunately, the show leaves with you. It wants to be a heavyweight with its humor mixed with the fear of McCarthyism (among other things), but the script never really gets there. In the end it's a trifle. Yes, there is plenty of humor, but it's more of a smiling show than a laughing one. (But who would want to see a show called "Smiles on the 23rd Floor" anyway?)

But there is much to offer with LAUGHTER ON THE 23RD FLOOR, especially a marvelous set and top-notched performances by some of our area's finest actors, including one who steals the entire show from the rest of the talented cast and gives one of the year's best performances.

As soon as I walked in the theatre, I was taken by Jerid Fox's wonderful set, with green and white checkerboard floors, desks cluttered with vintage magazines (the prop masters obviously did their homework), balls of paper littering the floor, and two windows overlooking the New York skyline. It looked like something out of "The Dick Van Dyke Show," which also was a tribute to the "Your Show of Shows" staff (Morey is Mel Brook; Sally is Selma Diamond; Alan Brady is Sid Caesar; etc). With Fox's brilliant set, we are immediately transported back 60 years ago, and the show hasn't even begun yet.

As the Neil Simon surrogate, Lucas Brickman, Chris Jackson is quite likable but the role is rather dull and ordinary. You never understand really how or why he was hired as a funnyman writer in the first place. He's just not funny, and he's not written as funny either. This is not Jackson's fault; it all falls in the lap of Neil Simon. He's written some great characters in this show, but he made his own part a blank wall. At best he's a gee-whiz, wide-eyed gawker, about as exciting as wallpaper; I would understand it if he happened to be an errand boy, but not a writer of humor equal to the others presented in the show. Maybe this was Simon's point: He sees himself as a newbie twig in a forest of veteran sequoias. But that doesn't work in the show; we have to accept his ability at humor on faith, not with what is presented to us on the stage. Jackson is a wonderful performer and does as much as possible with the part, but it would be hard for any actor to overcome this hurdle.

Much better suited are the other writers of "The Max Prince Show." Larry Alexander is excellent as always as a sort of combination of Larry Gelbart and Carl Reiner. John Lombardi is always a joy to watch onstage, and he's bigger than life here as Milt Fields, with some of the best lines in the show (and some of the best costumes as well!) Joseph Parra shines as Val Skolsky, sort of the straight man of the group, and Brian Webb Russell hits just the right notes as Brian Doyle ("Your Show of Show's" Tony Webster). As the sole woman on the writing staff, Lauren Wood gets a monologue in Act 2 that becomes one of the highlights of the show. And Molly Leigh Healy is fine as Helen, the secretary to Max Prince.

As Max Prince, Kristian Truelsen is simply wonderful. He's big as Caesar, and he takes a second to get used to, but his facial expressions are a thing of beauty. You could imagine him as the star of a very funny '50's variety show. His panic attacks are spot on, and when he's sleeping standing up, you really believe he's sleeping standing up. This is the first time I've seen Truelsen grace our local stages, but he is a welcome find.

Best of all is Glenn Gover in the showy role of Ira Stone, the best writer of the group, sort of Mel Brooks mixed with Woody Allen hypochondria. Gover is off the charts nuts in the role, rarely staying still. He even showcases Brooks' gravelly voice, and he is a manic hoot. Zany, electric, charismatic, and oh so funny. He's a court jester, even going so far as eating paper onstage. The role seems tailor made for Gover's crazed energy, and wacky as it is, it is one of the best performances of the year.

Act 1 was almost all exposition and was a struggle at times to get through, but Act 2 was stellar. I found myself loving these characters so much that I didn't want the show to end. Director David Russell guides the show with a sure hand. Tech is marvelous, with Mike Wood's lighting outstanding as always. (The snow falling in the final scene was a marvelous touch.) Karla Hartley's sound design worked well; I especially enjoyed the pre-show TV theme music and Alka Seltzer commercials. Kelly Lynn Stukey's costumes were appropriate for the time period and quite wonderful (especially the hilarious concoctions Lombardi has to wear).

Older audiences will appreciate the storyline and applaud the sentiments of a time long gone. I'm curious how younger audiences will react, those under forty who have no idea who Sid Caesar was and automatically turn off the TV whenever a black and white movie comes on. What will they make of LAUGHTER ON THE 23RD FLOOR? Will they get it like the older audiences, who laughed and laughed throughout much of the show? Or will they shrug in disinterest while watching a Mel Brooks musical or a Woody Allen movie, not knowing where either one of them got their start in the first place?

LAUGHTER ON THE 23RD FLOOR plays at American Stage until December 14th. For tickets, please call 727-823-PLAY (7529).

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