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Don’t tell anyone,
but the emperor has no clothes. Oh, there are funny bits in David Mamet’s Romance,
an all male courtroom drama, but by and large it is politically incorrect with
scatological language delivered at break neck speed substituting for humor. Mind you, the
language is nothing that has not been heard before – turn on Comedy Central and a
daily ration of fuck, etc. is available on demand.
Rapid fire delivery is Mamet’s hallmark and Neil Pepe’s
direction misses not a beat. Unfortunately, speed does not equate with cleverness. Mamet
is not known for comedy. The quick exchanges that ignite Glengarry Glen Ross and The Old Neighborhood give life and
drama to deadly serious subjects. In Romance, the exchanges are more like those
between students on a high school debate team, functioning against a time clock, trying to
dazzle their opponents with fast talk over substance. Neither Pepe’s direction,
superb acting nor an impeccable set (Robert Brill) can overcome the fact that there is not
much there there.
There is an old joke among trial lawyers: "God has delusions of
grandeur; he thinks he is a federal judge." Larry Bryggman, the judge in this slap
shtick courtroom drama, brings the most genuine laughter. The allegation is never clear,
nor is the offense necessarily federal, but this judge is the worst of the worst. He
rambles on about a parade outside, sneezes his head off with allergies (to which his
fawning bailiff responsively says gesundheit and the other participants join in), is
inattentive to the proceedings, pops pills on the bench and boasts of his seemingly
arbitrary power to jail people. Every lawyer’s nightmare. Bryggman holds nothing back
and his timing is perfect.
Action begins with the prosecutor (Jim Frangione) interrogating the
defendant (Steven Goldstein), a chiropractor, over his signature. The defendant repeatedly
stymies the exchange with his evasive "it all depends on the meaning of what is
is" style of non-response, in which the judge shows not the slightest interest, and
the prosecutor not the slightest skill at moving the questioning forward. It is absurdist
and so is the subsequent Jew-baiting, goy attacking battle between the ill-matched
defendant and his counsel (Ed Begley, Jr.) during their conference. The prosecutor returns
home to his stereotyped partner Bunny or Buns (Noah Bean), an over-the-top pretty boy.
Like the exchange between defendant and counsel they are the sorts of scenes that are
politically incorrect, but the audience is supposed to be sooo sophisticated it can laugh
at itself laughing at the naughtiness. Oh, please.
The parade that had captivated the judge was in honor of a middle-east
peace conference taking place in the city. Somehow defendant and counsel have come
together in the second act to ask for a continuance and offer a plan to bring peace to
middle east through chiropractic manipulation. Don’t ask. Audience reaction is mixed,
many are doubled over, but nonsense does not fine absurdist drama make. It is just
nonsense and meaningless without wit. The denouement revealing that five of the seven men
in the courtroom are gay brings relief. Finally it is over and all can go home.
