Playwright: Peter Shaffer
At: Speaking Ring at Steep Theatre,
3902 N. Sheridan
Phone: (312) 458-9374; $15
Runs through: Oct. 17
Reviews for plays like this one are the hardest to write. That's because there's no passion for the production either way. Shows you love and shows you hate come easily because the love/hate dynamic makes it easy to ignite the critical flame. Plays like Black Comedy are especially difficult because they leave so little impression, because they're competent, because they're good-intentioned. The production isn't horrible; neither is it brilliant. Where to come down?
The first question I'd like to ask of Speaking Ring Theatre Company and director Kevin Gladish is: why? The one-act, penned in the 1960s by Peter Shaffer of Equus and Amadeus fame, hasn't aged all that well and one wonders if it was even so remarkable for its time. Black Comedy is one of those Brit drawing room type farcical comedies with the requisite misunderstandings, misdirected passion, and the thrill of seeing many colorful, albeit one note, characters play off each other in amusing ways. The conceit here, and what makes Black Comedy different from its ilk, is that the play is set during a power failure, and the production reverses light and dark (when the stage is dark, the lights are on and when the stage is lit, the characters are stumbling around in 'pitch darkness.' Never mind that their eyes would most likely adjust after a few minutes).
The power failure couldn't have come at a worse time, since young artist Brindsley (Michael Brownlee) is supposed to be showing a piece to an important, and very deep-pocketed, collector that very night. To impress his would-be benefactor, Brindsley has borrowed furniture from his piss-elegant across-the-hall neighbor while he's away. Predictably, everything goes awry: an old flame shows up unannounced, causing predictable trouble between Brindsley's current girlfriend and her father; the neighbor whose furniture has been appropriated comes home earlier than expected; a spinsterish older neighbor hits the cocktails a little too hard. Yes, it's rife with potential for laughs, but the laughs seem a little forced and the comedy is well, a little tired.
Gladish and his ensemble give their merry best to the effort, with some real standout performances by Emily Gann as the old flame, Clea, and Karyn Morris as the spinster neighbor, Miss Furnival. The production moves along at a good clip and the creative design by Tony Adams is credible and on-target.
Everything works like clockwork. But clockwork can be deadly when it comes to art. There's just little here, in both the production and its source material, to feel passionate about, and in a city that sees about a dozen openings a week, why bother?