Wallach plays Mr. Green, a man who, since the recent death of his wife, has no friends or family to call him by his first name. Alone after 59 years of marriage, he shuts himself off from life in the apartment he once shared with his wife on Manhattan's Upper West Side, a space he hasn't changed -- or cleaned -- since her funeral. His solitude, however, is unexpectedly shattered by the arrival of Ross Gardiner (David Alan Basche), a yuppyish twentysomething who ran into Mr. Green several weeks before. Almost literally. While speeding, Ross narrowly avoided mowing down the old man as he walked across the street. Unable to get out of his unusual six-month community-service sentence for reckless driving, Ross shows up to make the first of his court-ordered weekly visits to Mr. Green. As it turns out, the judge's sentence rehabilitates both men, renewing each of them through a growing friendship.
On the surface the premise of Visiting Mr. Green seems slight: A young man visits an elderly retiree, resulting in a common bond. (Then again, the plot of Driving Miss Daisy -- mileage results in a meeting of the minds when a black chauffeur takes a job driving an elderly Jewish white woman -- doesn't sound any more exciting.) But the premise isn't the problem. In his first full-length play, Baron refuses to let go of the writing habits he developed working on the television shows A Year in the Life, Sisters, Almost Grown, and The Tracey Ullman Show. Apparently he doesn't trust audiences to sit still for the next scene and has structured his play around nonexistent commercial breaks, ending several of his nine scenes with cliffhangers created out of shocking character revelations. These please-stay-tuned revelations leave the play awash in life lessons on ageism, religious tolerance, alternative lifestyles, and dysfunctional families. I know that a lifetime of theatergoing has jaded and hardened me, but there is only so much understanding I can muster in two hours. And yet my admiration can last for years, and I will remember this production for at least that long, thanks to Wallach's unforgettable performance.
He deftly guides us through the jumbled plot, quickly moving beyond the embodiment of the stereotypical old geezer we first see on-stage; his Mr. Green entices us to follow along with a "well, anything can happen to anybody" suspension of disbelief. Right off the bat Wallach gains our sympathies with his justifiable confusion and anger at a system that has forced a stranger into his home; simultaneously he makes us squirm with his refusal to accept anyone's help, despite his obvious need. Next we are drawn into Mr. Green's world with such mesmerizing power that it becomes clear why Ross can't help but involve himself in the old man's life. Wallach's perfectly timed delivery of Mr. Green's comic frustrations in explaining kosher dishes to a modern young Jew ("Passover!" Green cries. "It's near Easter") is priceless, as is his subtle handling of the play's more dramatic moments. For example, Mr. Green does not explode upon learning that his wife, with whom he shared three-quarters of his life, had kept an important secret from him; rather, he implodes, his spirit deflating before our eyes.
The drama of Mr. Green's situation is gradually blended with humor until he becomes an idealized grandfather -- someone who tells stories of the past that we might actually be interested in hearing. (While listening to him relate how he met his wife -- both were waiting in line for the only toilet in his family's Lower East Side tenement building -- I wistfully regretted all the questions I never asked my grandparents and, to be honest, all the stories I just absently nodded at and promptly forgot.) Not all of Mr. Green's tales are warm remembrances: At one point he tries to give Ross an understanding of the persecution European Jews faced. Avoiding melodrama by nailing the speech's few comic lines, Green pounds into Ross's oblivious head the reasons he -- and Ross's grandparents -- "weren't moving. No one moooooved to America. They were getting the hell out of there."
If it was aiming to hedge its bets on a new play by hiring an old pro in the lead role, the Coconut Grove Playhouse would have been hard pressed to cast anyone better than Wallach. This marks the fourth time the actor has appeared on the playhouse's stage; he and his wife, actress Anne Jackson, starred there in 1970's Twentieth Century, 1987's The Flowering Peach, and 1995's Love Letters. Since his Broadway debut in 1945, he has starred, alone or with Jackson, in more than two dozen widely diverse Broadway hits, including Shakespeare's Henry VIII, the post-World War II favorites Mr. Roberts and Tea House of the August Moon, George Bernard Shaw's Major Barbara, Eugene Ionesco's Rhinoceros, Jean Anouilh's Waltz of the Toreadors, Tennessee Williams's The Rose Tattoo (for which he won the Tony), Tom Stoppard and Andre Previn's Every Good Boy Deserves Favour, and Murray Schisgal's Luv, among others.
Wallach has found an able new costar in David Alan Basche. Standing in Mr. Green's incredibly littered apartment and using his handkerchief to pick up objects, Basche's Ross perfectly conveys the annoyance of having his busy life disrupted by a messy old man who, on top of everything else, has the bad grace to live in a fourth-floor walkup. Slowly, Basche replaces self-involvement with concern, as Ross looks beyond the dust to notice Mr. Green's empty refrigerator, disconnected phone, ignored mail, and unlocked door. To his credit, Basche copes remarkably well with all of Baron's scene-ending "gotchas," which unveil hidden areas of Ross's life. Adroitly incorporating these disclosures into his character's personality, Basche turns them into an explanation of Ross's compassion. The maudlin script has an unhappy Ross -- ill at ease with his way of life and estranged from his family -- finding a substitute grandfather in Mr. Green. Avoiding cheap sentiment, Ross offers a fellow human being the acceptance he himself has been denied, and in the process he makes the play's ending ring a little truer.
Much of the credit for turning Visiting Mr. Green into more than just an acting master class goes to actor-turned-director Lonny Price. Undistracted by the barrage of plot twists thrown his way, he centers the production on the evolving friendship between the two characters. In a scene toward the end of the play, Mr. Green is so upset by startling news he received a few days earlier that he is too dazed to recognize Ross. The overly dramatic scene is totally out of place, and Price deals with it effectively by giving it a nightmarish quality.
Designer Loren Sherman's faded-wallpaper set strewn with cantilevered books, newspaper stacks, and a half-century's worth of mementos beautifully evokes the old man's world. By creating a nondescript wardrobe for a socially insecure Ross and comfortable-yet-presentable clothes for Mr. Green, costume designer Ellis Tillman adds texture to the production; additionally, Phil Monat's lighting design nicely imparts mood. However, sound designer Steve Shapiro's electronic interscene music, perfect for the final round of a game show but ineffective in establishing dramatic continuity, accomplishes little more than discouraging patrons from talking.
Although Visiting Mr. Green has already been optioned for a possible New York production, the Coconut Grove Playhouse's staging marks only its second mounting (it premiered at the Berkshire Theatre Festival in the summer of 1996). I wouldn't advise any Broadway angels to put their money down until the script undergoes serious surgery. Note to prospective play doctors: After narrowing the focus, work on the names -- Ross Gardiner helps Mr. Green blossom?! The script's future may be open-ended, but Eli Wallach's stay at the Grove is not; don't wait for the next rewrite to visit Mr. Green. As the play's two characters learn, life is too short not to extend a little forgiveness, especially if it brings you together with people who give you joy.
Visiting Mr. Green.
Written by Jeff Baron; directed by Lonny Price; with Eli Wallach and David Alan Basche. Through March 30. For information call 442-4000 or see "Calendar Listings.
