| Issue #50, March 23, 2007 |
review: breaking legs at quogue community hall
by Renée R. Donlon
While most were reveling in an Irish stereotype this past St. Patrick’s Day, the audience at the Quogue Community Hall was enjoying an Italian one. The Hampton Theatre Company’s current production of Tom Dulack’s Breaking Legs, directed by Sarah Hunnewell, centers around a highly characterized “family” of Italians who are in the two businesses that all Italians in film, television, and theater are in – restaurants and the Mob. The out-of-place, awkward, Irish playwright/professor, O’Keefe (Bob Lingner), stumbles into this world in a desperate attempt to find financing for his play. Angie, O’Keefe’s former-student-turned-waitress, urges O’Keefe to ask her father and his associates – a collection of non-blood-related “uncles” – to back the play.
This is where the play (Breaking Legs, not O’Keefe’s) really picks up some laughs. Halfway through the second act, O’Keefe is torn between agreeing to the revisions the uncles’ demand in exchange for their investing a million dollars into the production and preserving its artistic integrity. Here the humor is derived from the absurdity of mobsters arguing over literary structure and box office marketing strategy. O’Keefe listens in horror and disbelief as the uncles propose the addition of musical numbers by their accordion-playing overweight nieces. They even want to change the title to something flashier – “Oklahoma! Now that’s a title,” argues Uncle Mikey. Although this smacks across the face of O’Keefe’s ivory towered sense of playwriting, he must struggle to keep from calling the uncles on their absurdity outright. They are his backers, after all, and he does not want to lose the investment. They are also mobsters, and he does not want to lose his life.
Linger handles the absurd chaos of this scene with skill. He elicits laughs by balancing extreme nervousness with occasional outbursts that arise when the uncles’ revisions become too much for his college-cultivated notions of playwriting. The timid O’Keefe turns red with rage, unable to refrain from shouting, when the uncles cross the line and suggest that O’Keefe’s characters be dressed as singing cats. Linger himself is probably spared any nervousness or apprehension when it comes to the romantic scenes with Angie, the waitress, as Linder’s real-life wife, Birgitta Millard-Linger, plays the role. This familiarity between the actors allows them to create a funny discomfort between the characters. At least O’Keefe is uncomfortable. Angie seems oblivious to or undisturbed by all this, as she bullies him with her affections. The bearded, tweed-wearing professor is no match for the big haired, tight-skirted determined Angie. Ms. Linger demonstrates her character’s fortitude with the ongoing gag of pushing up her chest before going after O’Keefe, the way a solider would pump his gun before charging into battle.
The play is scattered with similar physical gags. The mention of any deceased friend or family member (of which there are quite a few) warrants an immediate stop in conversation, during which all Italian characters in the scene cross themselves in unison. Edward Kassar gets his own laughs by endowing his character, Uncle Mikey, with a bizarre, hissing laugh. In the role of Uncle Frankie, James Ewing uses his physicality not to get laughs but to flesh out his character – a hesitant walk, jumpy arms, and twitching shoulders give Ewing’s character a developed sense of being and suit Uncle Frankie’s apprehension over his delinquent payments nicely.
The actors have room to unleash these highly physical characters in the smart-looking set designed by Ewing and Hunnewell. From the burgundy vinyl booths and the small square paintings of bridges in Venice, right down to the tiny exit sign and dim sconces on the walls, the set captures the feel of the Brooklyn restaurant in which the play is set.
The music played over the darkness during the scene changes and the curtain call could easily be the soundtrack playing in such a restaurant. The audience organically and happily bobbed its collective heads and clapped along to Louis Prima’s “Che la Luna” during one scene change. This modifies the theory that everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day – this year, everyone was Irish, unless they attended a production of Breaking Legs on that night, in which case, everyone in the audience was also Italian.
Breaking Legs is playing at the Quogue Community Theater on Jessup Avenue in Quogue every Thursday, Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 2:30 p.m. until April 1. For tickets, please call the box office at 631-653-8955.
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