Playwright: Terrence McNally
At: Steppenwolf Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted
Phone: (312) 335-1650; $38-$55
Runs through: August 29
See, there's this cook and this waitress in Noo Yawk Sitty who do the double-decker one night. This short-order fling convinces Johnny that Frankie is the woman for him and he refuses to depart until she promises to marry him. Frankie is understandably skeptical of his suit, but doncha know that Love—with some help from a late-night radio DJ—is gonna go and fuckin' conquer all?
The reluctant lady won by the stubborn gentleman has been a comedy staple from The Taming Of The Shrew to the present day. Terrence McNally's 1987 variation on the familiar premise has its flaws—the second act gives the impression of having been cobbled onto what was originally conceived as a one-act play (though less obtrusively than in The Lisbon Traviata). The addition, however, allows us become more intimately acquainted with his characters as they carefully negotiate the prospect of a future—or even a next moment—together so that WE emerge satisfied that they are truly meant for one another and the dragons blocking their Happy Ever After worth slaying.
But while we might approve the lovers' indecision, too much time spent dressing and undressing, insisting and resisting, consenting and dissenting, et cetera, risks inspiring a response along the lines of 'Make up your minds, already!' as its contrivances become increasingly apparent. Director Austin Pendleton meets this challenge by opting to present the play in one intermissionless segment, a structure not only circumventing any potential dramatic inertia, but lending to the action a headlong urgency wholly appropriate to its romantic universe.
Holding focus in Steppenwolf's cavelike auditorium for 90 minutes is still a marathon assignment for only two actors, even with David Swayze's tschotchke-cluttered scenic design providing opportunities for stage business. What keeps us emotionally invested, however, is the delightful sense of spontaneity imposed by Yasen Peyankov and Laurie Metcalf on repartee often reduced to theatrical fizz. (You can almost literally SEE their voices cavort and carom around the big stage, Peyankov's soaring in great tsunami arcs and Metcalf's leaping, dolphin-style, through the waves.) Who cares that it's the same old song when it's played by a pair of virtuoso spoken-word musicians like these?