By Ciara LaVelle
By Jose D. Duran
By Kat Bein
By Juan Barquin
By Ciara LaVelle
By George Martinez
By Kat Bein
By Ciara LaVelle
In past years Ayckbourn's work has become known for its darkly humorous look at the British middle class. Things We Do for Love, currently being produced at Actors' Playhouse, simply isn't as challenging and dark as works like Absent Friends and The Revengers' Comedies. But Actors' Playhouse director David Arisco has assembled an excellent troupe with the talent to play out this romantic farce to its potential. Best friends from high school Barbara Trapes (Lisa Morgan) and Nikki Wickstead (Sandra Ives) haven't seen each other for eleven years. Nikki has recently escaped an abusive relationship and believes she has found true love with her husband-to-be, Hamish Alexander (Gordon McConnell). Nikki and Hamish plan to stay in Barb's upstairs flat (um, apartment for you non-Anglophiles) until their house is ready.
Nikki and Barb are undeniably opposites. Nikki dresses like an adolescent and acts like a grade-school girl. Strutting around in tight leather pants and low-cut shirts, she shrieks with excitement over just about anything. In short she is what people call "well meaning" to avoid using words like dumb. Barbara, on the other hand, has evolved into a modern mutation of corporate spinster. She works as an executive assistant, lives alone, and is quick to let you know she prefers it that way: "Give me a good book, a hot water bottle, and some nice music."
A significant part of the first half of Things We Do for Love is comprised of some heart-to-heart chats between Barb and Nikki, which could be summed up as follows:
Discourse One: Independence
Barb: "You have choices: live alone or compromise. I choose to live alone."
Nikki: "I can't. I tried it. I wilt."
Discourse Two: Codependence
Barb: "No, you are not a born victim."
Nikki: "But it all happens because of love."
Things We Do for Love is a modern farce, a comedy of stereotypes, and Nikki's and Barb's philosophies can be gleaned from a few swift lines. Within the first three minutes of the play, the fact that Barb and Nikki are stereotypes becomes obvious: Barb is the prude, Nikki the sexpot. These wide brush strokes and easily recognizable characters are fundamental to farce and are enough to launch the comedy. But we don't need all the explication of Nikki's horrible relationship and Barb's spinster status. What makes a farce funny is the idiosyncratic portrayal of these stereotypical characters. We see this as soon as the plot takes off; unfortunately that doesn't happen until the end of the second half. To outline the plot here won't give much away: Hamish and Barb can't stand each other; consequently, of course, they must end up in bed. Nikki turns out to be frigid beneath her sexy surface, while Barb is a kettle of lust about to boil over. Throw in Gilbert (Gary Marachek), a cross-dressing postal worker/handyman who lives downstairs and is hopelessly smitten with Barb, and the foursome is complete.
Ayckbourn has worked in theater as a director, writer, actor, stage manager, scene painter, prop maker, and lighting-and-sound technician. His in-depth knowledge of the theater is apparent in his plays, which often are noted for their interesting use of theatrical sets, as in The Norman Conquests, a trilogy of plays that show simultaneous events in the dining room, living room, and garden of the same house during one weekend. The set of Things We Do For Love possesses that same vitality and gives the audience the perverse voyeuristic thrill that comes with seeing everything at once.
The set also is fertile ground for the burgeoning upstairs-downstairs farce at the center of the play. The only level fully visible to the audience is the ground floor of Barb's home. Above it the audience can see the bottom quarter of Nikki and Hamish's room; below it, the top quarter of Gilbert's basement flat. When Barb and Hamish are upstairs having sex while Nikki is downstairs behind a closed door singing at the top of her lungs, the virtually empty set, full of contradiction, takes on hilarious proportions. This scene is a perfect example of "less is more" -- the audience can see only pants flying and feet jumping, accompanied by the crescendo of the prep school anthem and the guttural orgasms of Barb and Hamish.