At once an homage to
the history of comic theatre and a tribute to the performers who make it so memorable,
Neil Simon’s The Sunshine Boys is frequently a showcase for older actors who
carry with them their own slice of the past. First produced in 1972 with Jack Albertson
and Sam Levine, the 1975 film version revitalised the screen career of George Burns, and
the recent Broadway revival reunited Tony Randall and Jack Klugman from TV’s version
of The Odd Couple. It is not so long since Dublin’s Gate Theatre presented
it with David Kelly, fresh from the international box-office success of Waking Ned Devine. The ExxonMobil Touring
Theatre production currently running at The Gaiety has been adapted by director Mark
Rayment to accommodate the repertoire and vocal styles of British stage and screen legends
Ron Moody and Brian Murphy. It has also been tweaked to relocate it from Simon’s New
York to contemporary London, where the old pros reminisce about and represent an almost
vanished but still remembered world of variety entertainment, the most recent proponents
of which still appear on TV from time to time.
In itself The Sunshine Boys is a beautifully written play with
vivid characterisation, sharp dialogue, and a classically rounded structure which make it
appear deceptively simple to stage. The story follows the attempt by a young theatrical
agent to re-unite his elderly uncle, a former vaudevillian great, with his long-time stage
partner for just such a TV appearance. Despite their legendary reputation, the two old men
have not spoken in twelve years. Obviously, they have many issues to work out before they
are ready to return to the public eye, and not just which props to use in their sketch.
Things gradually become more heated until a series of confrontations threatens to end in
tragedy.
Simon’s skill with words has made him among the best known
playwrights of the twentieth century and his dialogue sparkles through almost any slips in
performance or direction. Alternately witty and moving, the play has a balance and
internal rhythm which is hard to resist. Though it is not as laugh-out-loud funny as The
Odd Couple, nor as moving, its self-referentiality makes it all the more of a treat
for habitual theatregoers. It is loaded with in-jokes and steeped in a sense of nostalgia
which underscores the action. Audiences can enjoy the inevitable emotions which come with
viewing old favourites perform the play and find themselves connecting with Simon’s
themes on a deeper level in doing so. If skillfully done, it does not descend into
mawkishness and allows an affection for theatre to become an effective tool with which to
question the nature of long-standing professional relationships. It also raises questions
of loss, change, and friendship and there are some tender and revealing moments.
Unfortunately it is also easy to go for laughs alone because there are
plenty to be had. The play is primarily comic after all, and what good would a tribute to
comic theatre be if it was too dramatic to raise a smile. This production is at its best
when the actors are having broad fun with their characters and when the zingers and
one-liners are flying. The liveliest section is the ‘live’ performance of their
comic routine in dress rehearsal where Moody and Murphy ad lib, interact with the
audience, and even openly admit to forgetting lines amid the laughter. In a sense this is
where this theatre within the theatre comes to life, and it is appropriate that masks
slip, props are used incorrectly, and the actors connect with and engage the audience in a
way not often done outside of pantomime anymore. The problem is that the play sometimes
seems laboured elsewhere. It is not always comfortable with its dramatic side, and seems
hesitant and awkward when there isn’t a punchline around the corner.
Moody has a great stage presence and is a veteran with a history
perfectly suited to the conceits of Simon’s text. Watching him calls to mind his
classic work in film and theatre, setting off the chain of recognition which allows the
story to take hold beyond the confines of the stage. He is good physically, able to move
from ‘real’ frailty to ‘mock’ energy (as part of the routine) with
convincing professionalism and unafraid to play the part of a man in relatively reduced
circumstances whose dignity is clearly an ineffective shield with which he blocks his
pain. However the performance is inconsistent, with too many fluffed lines to go without
notice which break the spell of the characterisation and distract you from what’s
supposed to be happening with the character. You tend to let it go in the spirit of the
thing, but doing so over-emphasises the indulgent side of Simon’s script and leaves
you only your affection for the performer to respond with.
Murphy is better, and is actually very good indeed as the slightly more
successful partner in the act who gets under his confederate’s skin for so many
reasons. He captures the pathos of the character, and interacts beautifully with
Moody’s broader performance by playing in a more restrained, almost daunted manner.
His timing is good, his delivery is quick and clear as it should be for Simon, and he
plays a range of emotions well. After a shaky start, the play steadies up considerably
with his arrival, and this applies both in terms of the script and the specific
production. The leads are ably supported by Matthew Cottle as the beleaguered nephew, and
Llewella Gideon makes a strong impression as a no-nonsense nurse.
As it tours, this production will inevitably become smoother, and it is
good entertainment even as it stands. It’s a good play, these are good actors, and
there are lots of laughs on offer if you’re disposed towards them. It is a pity that
the production doesn’t quite hit the dramatic points as well as it might, though, and
that the cheerful feeling it attempts to generate comes at their expense.
Dublin, February 19, 2001
- Harvey O'Brien
