By Ciara LaVelle
By George Martinez
By Kat Bein
By Ciara LaVelle
By Travis Cohen
By Carlos Suarez De Jesus
By Monica McGivern
By Travis Cohen
Take an Italian widow, angry at her daughter, and a Jewish widow, clinging to her daughter. Add an unassuming rabbi and a recent widower vigorously into the sauce. Throw them together in a South Florida condominium and shake them all up. What do you get? A silly bedroom farce that, despite some hilariously lewd moments, is ultimately forgettable. In other words, another evening of light entertainment from the Coconut Grove Playhouse.
In Bermuda Avenue Triangle, currently enjoying its world premiere at the Playhouse, Tess (Beatrice Arthur) and Fannie (Renee Taylor) arrive at a condo bought for them by their daughters, who have relegated their mothers to development hell in order to get on with their own lives. The women join a hike led by Rabbi Levine (Cliff Norton), activities director at the residence, tramping through the mangroves of Key Biscayne. A drunken vagrant saves the women from being mugged when they stray too far from the group. Even through his alcoholic stupor, sweet-talking Johnny (Joseph Bologna) knows a good thing when he sees it, insinuates himself into their lives, and lures both Tess and Fannie into bed. When the two discover they are being two-timed, well, you probably can write the rest of the play yourself.
Yet the script displays flashes of insight. Fannie and Tess relay their life stories to Johnny in a terrific spoof on victimhood: Fannie's mother plowed fields in Russia by hand when the ox took sick; Tess insists, as she launches into a monologue about her abusive marriage, that "Fannie's life was not worse than mine." And all too aware that they've been put out to pasture by their daughters, the women vow to lead full and exciting lives.
Playwrights-actors Taylor and Bologna, the talented husband-and-wife team who gave us the classic scene of wedding excess in the 1970 movie Lovers and Other Strangers, serve up one-liners and physical comedy that's occasionally as funny as anything they've ever written or performed. But the laughs, often based on props (handfuls of cellophane-wrapped hard candies, diet oat bran macaroons, an enema bag) and sight gags (Arthur and Taylor transformed, after bouts of lovemaking with Johnny, from gray-haired frumps into a redhead and a platinum blonde, respectively), aren't enough to hold together a cute but slight script that plummets into sentimentality in the final scene. Tess moralizes "We all wasted our lives being unhappy," and I lament having watched a largely unfinished script.
An exuberant delight in sex enlivens the evening, however. Johnny may be a freeloading cad, adept at the art of syrupy seduction, but he awakens the deadened senses of Fannie and Tess with his prowess. And, not surprisingly -- considering the seasoned cast and the skills of director Kenneth Frankel, former associate artistic director of the Long Wharf Theater, in Connecticut -- there are uproarious bits, supplied chiefly by Taylor's comedic talents. She revitalizes two exhausted cliches: the Jewish food joke and the Jewish mother caricature. Her Fannie clamps down her teeth on a pastrami and cheese sandwich so possessively that not even the Jaws of Life can unhinge her from the object of her desire. And her transmutation from sacrificial mother to Lana Turneresque bombshell is hysterical, particularly as she resists dancing with the relentless Johnny. I was laughing so hard I cried.
Cliff Norton, a long-time veteran of TV comedy and the stage, is a perfect straight man, aghast at the condo shenanigans. Bologna is an agile Don Juan. Less believable is Arthur. Known to the world as Maude (from the 1970s TV series of the same name) and Dorothy (from the more recent Golden Girls), she moved with a fluid authority in both of those roles; yet here her Tess is stiff and strident, even after Johnny has his way with her.
Finally, Taylor and Bologna are not only funny writers and performers, they also share some of the most magnetic chemistry I've ever seen between two people on stage or screen. This serves only to make the incomplete quality of Bermuda Avenue Triangle all the more disappointing.
Since its inception in 1979, Teatro Avante has presented a range of international works by playwrights such as Albee, Cocteau, Cabrujas, Garcia Lorca, Triana, and Williams. Its current production, Venezuelan playwright Rodolfo Santana's Spanish-language Mirando al tendido (Looking Into the Stands), puts a matador and a bull together in the ritualistic arena of the ring, where they engage in a power struggle over nothing less than life and death. No other play I can think of currently on-stage in South Florida combines the philosophical and the political in this way. Still, if you don't speak Spanish....
"One of Avante's most important goals," explains Avante producing artistic director Mario Ernesto Sanchez, "is to make our rich Hispanic culture available to the non-Spanish speaker in South Florida." Even though Avante has presented certain plays in English since 1984, the majority of its productions are inaccessible to the English-speaking public. Not for long. According to Sanchez, the purchase of a simultaneous translation machine is on the horizon. The device will allow non-Spanish-speaking audience members to don headphones during an Avante production and hear an English-language version of the play. The simultaneous translation will be provided by actors located in the lighting booth, who'll speak into the machine. Sanchez hopes to have it set up by June for this year's Hispanic Theatre Festival. Simultaneous translation is certain to be a challenge for a director, who now will have to work with two sets of actors in two different languages. But Sanchez points out that it will be much more practical than mounting two productions, and it opens up a realm of theatergoing possibilities for audiences anxious to enjoy the challenging work of this company.