THE COCKTAIL HOUR REVEIWED BY JEFF SMITH
THE COCKTAIL HOUR
Reviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the San Francisco Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle
The Ross Valley Players are currently performing A. R. Gurney's besotted, psycho-comedy: THE COCKTAIL HOUR at the Barn in the Marin Garden Center.
This is a play, much like a Mamet piece, in which the director—Mary Ann Rodgers—has the opportunity to crank the rheostat on the comedy factor in whatever direction she pleases: she shows restraint and discretion.
The focus of the play is John (played by Eric Burke): an accomplished playwright, who has returned to his homestead.
John has come home to his whacked-out family to get permission to produce a play—a roman-a-clef—depicting the foibles and hypocrisies of his dysfunctional brood.
In typical Yankee, sweep-it-under-the-rug fashion, his father—Bradley (played by T. Louis Weltz)—refuses to acquiesce to John's request.
After slamming down some 80-proof libation, Bradley does allow for the possibility that the play can be produced after all the depicted parties are safely in their respective graves.
As a compromise, John's mother—Ann (played by Christine Macomber)—suggests that the play be revised and published as a book: after all, few people read books; it would be much safer for the family's reputation and community standing.
Characteristic of the family dynamic, John's sister—Nina (Beth Deitchman)—enjoys pitting herself against her intellectually superior brother, knowing that she has an alcoholic mother and an irascible father as an allies.
If you are a problem drinker this play is a godsend: rarely does alcohol seem to serve the best interests of a family as well as it does John's.
Thanks to an incompetent cook—whose most highly utilized kitchen appliance is the smoke alarm—the cocktail hour gets prolonged until nearly everyone is thoroughly besotted and ready to talk turkey over the proposed play.
Rarely does alcohol—except as an antiseptic for cuts and scrapes, or as an alternative fuel in the get-a-way car—ever seem to work such miracles for the sake of a family altercation or a domestic disturbance.
John spends most of the first act brooding like Hamlet: wincing at all the superficial injuries his family continues to inflict on him.
One wonders how John got into the literati crowd without having come to grips with the psychological abuse dished out by Ma, Pa and Sis.
Fortunately for the humor content, in the second act, John tumbles off the sobriety wagon and begins belting 'em down with the rest of the sots; it is then that the audience can let go of its involuntary urge to commiserate with the injured John and begin to enjoy the humor of an abusive family—that's not yours.
THE COCKTAIL HOUR is good comedy, hopefully fearing a recession at the box office, the director will lower the restraints and let this play devolve into the family ruckus and inebriated comedy it has the potential to be.
For tickets one should visit the website http://www.rossvalleyplayers.com or
punch 415-456-9555 into the cell.
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