by Eugene Paul

 

Alan Ayckbourn’s newest play, Hero’sWelcome, his 79^th, in its premiere performance, is alternating in repertory with Confusions, Ayckbourn’s hit from forty years ago, during this, his sixth visit to 59E59 Theaters and I hope he makes it an even dozen visits.  Or two dozen.  Or more, now that he’s retired from running the famed Stephen Joseph Theatre in Scarborough, England. Of course, it’s famous because almost all 79 Ayckbourn plays have been performed there and directed there by him.  He is awesome.

 

So is Confusions, five short plays, each individual, each achingly humorous thanks to Ayckbourn’s icy, gimlet eye, snarky, sharp ear and selectively twitching nose aimed at the foibles of Brits as they go about their lives creating fodder for Ayckbourn’s acidly kindly pen, the whole gamut from skin stripping farce to endearing admonishment.  The man is a confounding wizard.  And he makes it seem so easy.  Take Confusions:

 

Elizabeth Boag

 

First play, “Mother Figure” has Lucy (wondrous Elizabeth Boag) in full spate of all the endless maternal chores that come with  managing her young (sight unseen, phew) children, no time to answer the phone, or the door, or get out of her night clothes, or unscrew the curled pinned ups in her hair. Shoes, makeup? Ha! And in dashing from pillar to post (or is it hither and yon?) spouting dire warnings guaranteed to correct her young childrens’ rotten behavior, she’s startled to find her neighbor, Rosemary (oh, so good Charlotte Harwood) standing in her, Lucy’s, parlor amid the welter of strewn stuffed animals and odd toys. Rosemary, a bit of a nosy frump, hasn’t seen Lucy in days, not since the hubby went on another business trip.  That’s Lucy’s husband, that is.  Lord knows, it’s not hers.  No, Terry is lazing around the house again, jobless, and on she natters.

 

Lucy has no time to pay attention.  There’s also the children’s laundry to keep up with the keeping up – and in walks Terry bold as brass (gawd, he’s good Stephen Billington) bullying Rosemary to come home.  Lucy takes him in stride.  No bad behavior in her house.  In full Mother mode, she has Terry apologizing to Rosemary and Terry and Rosemary behaving as proper children should.  And we never saw it coming.  A hoot, a palpable hoot.

 

Elizabeth Boag, Stephen Billington, and Russell Dixon

 

Next, “Drinking Companion”. In a bar. Harry,( is this Lucy’s husband  on a business trip, perchance?) sleazier than thou salesman type (awfully, awfully good Richard Stacey) has corralled almost willing Paula to have a little drink with him while she’s waiting for her good mate girl friend Bernice to show up, and two girls are better than one as far as Harry is concerned.  He is putting away the whiskeys and Paula is doing her shy best but not saying no. Bernice arrives, sizes up Harry in an instant and Harry sees the reaction and goes into heavy nice guy pure of heart spiel, imbibes more, orders more drinks for the girls – Bernice is NOT having any.  Well, much.  Paula is swaying and being swayed more and more.  Bernice hangs on to her sobriety and virtue, Harry does his ultimate persuasion, and I won’t spoil the ending.  No, I didn’t forget the waiter, in all this:  it’s Stephen Billington again, from the first play, very different but smarmily recognizable.  And it’s Elizabeth Boag again and Charlotte Harwood again from the first play. Wigs and clothes and personalities all changed.  The Ayckbourn stock company is having a ball. So is Ayckbourn, contrivances as invisible as ever.

 

Elizabeth Boag, Stephen Billington, and Russell Dixon     Photos by Tony Bartholomew

 

Third play, “Between Mouthfuls”, in a restaurant, has all our acting company plus Russell Dixon who gives you more, us more, than you bargained for. Terrific.  He’s Mr. Pearce.  Waiting for Mrs. Pearce. Who arrives late, stylishly, vindictively late, in a take no prisoners mood. (Wondrous Elizabeth Boag again.) Martin ( a new Richard Stacey) and Polly (a new Charlotte Harwood) are occupying their own problems at another table.  And there’s the waiter (Stephen Billington about to shine). Yes, we become occupied with the problems of the two couples and their rapidly diminishing composures but watching our waiter try to serve these couples their dinners is a whole show in itself as well as a sly, wickedly funny takedown of all the waiters being upscale in not quite upscale restaurants, determined to get their tips.  Our waiter earns his.  In spades.

 

Watching the setting up for “Gosforth’s Fete” is a reminder of how much fun we’ve had watching the set ups for each of the plays and suspecting a strong  hand in choreographing the procedures.  “Gosforth’s Fete” is indescribably funny farce.  You have to be there. Farce, that so hard to perform manic form is given the Ayckbourn treatment of seeming to be just inevitable human behavior.  Lord, what fools these mortals be. I have to say least but I am fondest of this playlet of all of them. No wonder it’s in prize position, next to closing, venerable showbiz wisdom.

 

Closing play, “A Talk in the Park” is Ayckbourn daring. No, not subject matter, sheer juxtaposition of factors: four park benches, each occupied by a single, silent  sitter.  A fifth person cases the area, decides he’ll sit next to the most prepossessing of this dreary lot, and tries to flirt with her.  She gets up and sits at next bench with a young man who does not seem to care to share.  But she shares, all right, and shares her own nonstop blether until he gets up and moves to the next bench with an eccentric bag lady type and vents his discomfiture at the talker who would not stop talking to him.  Which the bag lady will not put up with and she moves. To the next bench.  And is equally unwelcome.  And equally blabber mouthed.

 

Now, then, this all works.  Or it doesn’t. On one level it is character: none of these characters is engaging, nor are any of them meant to be. The other level, the comic structure, moving bench to bench, is funnier than it really is because we want it to be at this point in view of our experiences with the other plays. There is, of course, a third level.  Cheeky Alan Ayckbourn who dared this programming and this play forty years ago is also playing his latest play in another theater in these very premises.  At what levels of engagement is it? Inevitably, we are predisposed in its favor. Thank you, Sir Alan.

                                                         

Confusions. At 59E59 Theaters. 59 East 59^th Street, near Park Avenue. Tickets: $70. ($59 members) 212-279-4200. 2 hrs, 15 min. Thru July 3.

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Alan Ayckbourn, extraordinary man of the theater, does it again and again. His company of actors is marvelous.