“Laughter” is the Best Medicine
“Laughter on the 23rd Floor” at Le Petit Theatre
Neil Simon’s “Laughter on the 23rd Floor” is the fifth installment of the prolific playwright’s biographical trilogy—perfectly in keeping with the humorous, sardonic irony pervasive in his writing, and why he was awarded a Pulitzer Prize for Drama.
Neil Simon thinly veils a persona himself as Lucas Brickman (Brady Lewis) in “Laughter on the 23rd Floor.” Lucas is an entry-level comedy writer thrown into the chaotic writers’ room for the top-rated Max Prince (Joshua Mark Sienkiewicz) TV show. Prince’s character stands in for Simon’s former real-life boss, Sid Caesar, who hosted the 90-minute “Your Show of Shows”—the most popular program on television during the mid-twentieth century—think of ot as a 1950s Saturday Night Live, but in prime time.
ACT I
In disbelief at falling into this dream-job opportunity, Lucas is in awe of the comedic legends surrounding him—all with big egos and brilliant minds, sharing an often contentious work-family love. These comedic trailblazers include sole-female and very pregnant writer Carol Wyman (Danielle Morvant), inspired by writer/actress Selma Diamond and Imogene Coca, cool-under-fire Kenny Franks (Sean Ricalde, representing Carl Reiner) and hypochondriac Ira Stone (A. J. Allegra) as a composite of Mel Brooks and Woody Allen.
Other staff writing for the show are Russian head writer Val Slotsky (John Jabaley), sarcastically over-the-top Milt Fields (Daniel Rigamer) and Brian Doyle (David Sellers). Max’s secretary Helen (Yvette Bourgeois) is not attributed to a particular person, but infuses a frenetic fun and a love interest into the narrative.
The show opens with the team learning of the news that Sen. Joseph McCarthy is accusing national hero Gen. Marshall of being a Communist. Tiptoeing around upsetting their hair-trigger boss, this expectedly sends Max into a wall-punching rage. Frustrated by the rise of McCarthyism, while battling NBC’s pressure to adjust the humor to appeal to Midwest sensibilities, Max is under the threat of the network cutting heads, entertainment professionals being persecuted, as well as cutting the length of the long-running show, undermining its relevance.
By Brittney Werner, Le Petit Theatre
ACT II
Into the show’s new TV season, the show’s ratings are spiraling, and Max’s failed attempts to be upbeat amid growing despair among the writer; he is upset at not being able to protect his show and his work family. The staff is concerned for their previously impervious leader’s mental health, even more than their own job security. But even as the political pressure culminates with McCarthy’s waning power, falling ratings are simultaneously a harbinger of Max’s waning power.
Funneling their fears through funny banter in exchanging hilariously ruthless jabs between each other—with no ethnicity, pregnancy, political standing, or gender gap immune. But their intent is not mean-spirited insults as much as they are professional comedy writers sharpening their skills among the safe space of each other, and also serves as more of a professional blowing off steam, related by Simon as one of the people in the Manhattan TV trenches at the time. Simon’s sharp timing in the play’s script presents all the verbal sparring more as a fading art form of his rarefied profession.
The stage actors manage to bring those untethered emotions to the stage in believable ways. The unsettling political polarization amid the 1950’s Red Scare and its impact on free speech, comedy, and the power of media conglomerates (did someone say NBC?) are palatable headlines again today. Simon’s unintended cautionary history-repeats-itself tale was unimagined when he penned “Laughter,” originally staged on Broadway in 1993, but no less topical.
By Brittney Werner, Le Petit Theatre
SIMON & CO.
Neil Simon’s legacy is well intact. His acerbic wit and astute observations on the human condition are universal. In the initial trio of plays, Simon traced his life in the character of Eugene Jerome in Brighton Beach Memoirs, Biloxi Blues, and Broadway Bound. The hugely popular plays and movies made it clear there was a demand for more of his history. Although his plays’ characters’ names are no longer Eugene, it was clear Arthur “Arty” Kurnitz in Lost in Yonkers and Lucas in Laughter are clearly Simon’s alternate egos—with Lucas as the final incarnation of his installment stage-life story. Although they are period pieces of his personal milestones by design, the emotions, reactions and relatability to audiences effortlessly transcend the century.
The cast in Le Petit Theatre’s production are a strong ensemble, feeding well off each other and clearly enjoying themselves. Standouts include A. J. Allegra’s Ira, continually looking for a way to avoid work while discovering another ailment to complain about.
Daniel Rigamer’s delivery and timing as Milt are beyond compare and steal every scene he is in—with or without a white suit.
Yvette Bourgeois is another scene stealer with brilliant slapstick moments in Act I. Her extended stage presence in Act II is so strong, she adds a welcome splash of comic relief and romantic interest as the emotions intensify.
“Laughter on the 23rd Floor” is at Le Petit Theatre in the French Quarter through Sunday, Oct. 18.
