In a little room down on West 36th Street, The Workshop Theater Company is busy trying things out. For ten years the group has offered playwrights, actors and directors a place to build new theatrical works from initial concepts to full productions, and now it has a little theater where newfound works are being worked, tried, reworked, tried, and reworked again, until it reaches a blissful peak of perfection.
That being said, its current production, Pineapple and Henry, could use some more tweaking. Initially two plays with two titles – one was Gourmet Foods and the other Speakeasy - these two pieces have been retooled several times. After combining the two acts they even became the cute Gourmet Speakeasy for a time. Pineapple and Henry is not only catchy but more fittingly evokes what playwright Linda Segal Crawley and director Scott C. Sickles are trying to do: show how one location can hold so much history, how affairs of the heart remain the same even though society might not, how the more things change the more they stay the same.
The first act takes place in a fictitious Gourmet Wholesale Foods Shop at the corner of Pineapple and Henry in Brooklyn Heights. Time: today. Setting: Countertop with baked goods. There's Frank, who manages the place. Then there's Sport, the resident baker of cookies, cakes and various treats. Goodness knows when she finds the time to bake since she spends most of the day arguing with Frank and making eyes at the Russian immigrant Vladimir, or as she calls him, "Val," a hired contractor who continually screws up the jobs, which he adorably gets out of with his reciprocal flirting. But bitter Frank isn't buying Val's act, and spends most of the act warning Sport, which may be fueled by jealousy.
The romantic triangle set up here is supposed to be riddled with tension but it just falls flat. Mostly this is due to the dull dialogue, little plot momentum and poor character development. There is so little chemistry going on between these three one wonders why Sport would even consider a guy like Val. Stuart Garzoni, who plays Frank, is effectively gruff and always barking about something in a think Brooklyn accent, but because the character of Frank is never fully developed we are never quite sure who he is or where he is coming from. Harry Peerce as Val is grossly underused; sadly he's a stereotypical Russian who cutely bungles his English and whose lines are played for yuks ("See you later, Crocodile!") The only one who really shines at all in this act is Ellen Dolan of As The World Turns fame. She radiates with natural delivery and expressiveness that puts some Broadway veterans to shame. By turns she is confused, angry, disappointed, hopeful, courageous and independent, and she makes it seem effortless. They say there are no small parts, only small actors – and she does Act I of this tiny production justice. But ultimately this act goes nowhere and you wonder why the playwright chose to tell you this story, except only to set up Act II, which thankfully picks up momentum.
Add a few curtains, some wrought iron tables, and boom! It's 74 years earlier, 1931. Same joint, except now it's called Al's Place. Same countertop, same accents. Trusting and enterprising, Al Potaris is under the thumb of his older brother Sam, a mobster who owns the Brooklyn streets during the Prohibition era. Sam was left the place by their father but has agreed to give it to Al and let him run it as a speakeasy under the guise of an ice cream shop. Doris is Sam's girl but she hangs around Al's Place making eyes at Stevie, a young carpenter Al hired to help spiffy up. Naturally Sam doesn't like Stevie and doesn't buy his act and….sound familiar?
Here we have another love triangle but what makes this act stand on its own is the more thoughtfully fleshed out characters, stronger plot and really smart dialogue. These people come alive, they have history together and you can feel the stakes get higher as they continually rub each other the wrong way. The dialogue is stronger and wittier; it snaps and pops with fast talking slang evocative of the era. There are even a few clever references to floor tiles that allude to the first act. The acting is stronger here too; David M. Pincus as Al delicately holds it together as he tries to keep everyone happy, including himself. Raymond Potaris has a booming presence as Sam, keeping tight reins on both his brother and his girl. Dee Dee Friedman is effervescent as Doris, dancing between coy and seductress, knowingly using her wiles yet not without redeeming qualities she yanks out also when needed. Brian Voelcker plays it super sweet as Stevie, an innocent who gets caught in the whole mess.
