Call Barry Levinson! Maybe he can turn this play about Jews in nostalgic Baltimore into something more memorable.
Written and directed by Jeff Cohen, this semi-autobiographical tribute about his father circa 1970s Baltimore focuses on a group of Jewish guys who can't seem to grow up. The resemblance to Levinson's film Diner is unmistakable, but regrettably the movie does it better.
The guys – Stanley, Ira, Danny and Nate – meet to discuss the usuals – girls and cars – at their hangout, clay tennis courts located in the Jewish section of Baltimore. What begins as a promising premise quickly loses steam as the dialogue becomes monotonous and repetitive. The first half hour is spent on a whole lotta nothin'. They harp on the same things over and over and begin to verbally assault each other about petty matters like fresh tennis balls and being cheap. It's not clear what Cohen was aiming for here – Jewish behavior? Seinfeld-esque "yada-yada-yada"? Whatever gleam of intelligence and freshness Cohen has here, it sadly loses its luster all too soon.
Sorry to say but as the hours pass these characters become more unlikable; it grows evident that they are a simply a bunch of loser schlubs who lack maturity or sensibility. They want to remain forever bachelors and chip in for an apartment they can "timeshare" for dates. There is one moment when prejudice surfaces when the boys notice a group of minorities across the courts, and while it is meant to realistically portray the times, it comes off as borderline offensive in this day and age and rather unnecessary.
The play continues its downward spiral as it unfolds into several long and disjointed scenes involving more incessant and dull dialogue. Eventually losing his focus altogether, Cohen throws in a thin plot involving one of the guys getting into trouble with the law, but by the time the show ends you've become so exhausted from listening to these characters you just don't care about any of them anymore.
Probably inspired by the likes of Barry Levinson, Neil Simon and Woody Allen, Cohen is attempting to take a look back at an era with a nostalgic tear in the eye and simultaneously examine Jewish culture. There is an underlying theme of the changing times that could have potential but there are far too many heavy-handed metaphors about being forced to grow up for this play to come off as smart.
The five men nobly try to make lemonade. Dan Ahearn (Nate) and Victor Barbella (Danny) are underused, but the other three stand out thanks to their sharp portrayals. Steven Rattazzi is perfectly annoying as Ira, the loud obnoxious one. Matthew Arkin evokes just the right amount of slime as the slippery, swindling cousin Arnie. But it is Danton Stone who gives a nuanced performance as the sensitive one, Stan, a cheapskate who works himself up into a frenzy of emotion, getting upset over little things and aggravates situations by often lashing out in anger. Gabrielle Maisels is touchingly sweet and smart as Stan's ex-girlfriend, and there is a tender moment between these two when they rehash their relationship, but unfortunately, this scene, like all the others, goes on way too long.
The costumes by Kim Gill mostly consist of basic tennis outfits and the red clay residue on the socks and sneakers is a nice touch, while Ku'uipo Curry's tennis court set with shadowy sunlight is appealing. Cohen's direction is slow and needs help, but the crux of that problem lies within the piece itself, which really could benefit from lots and lots of editing.
Men of Clay. Until April 23 at the June Havoc Theater, 312 West 36th St. For tickets call 212-868-4444.
