'Barefoot In Park' Fairly Trim, Praiseworthy, Likable

'Barefoot In Park’ Fairly Trim, Praiseworthy, Likable

Drama Review

By Nerman Gibson

Young love and marriage never seem so appalling as they do in Neil Simon's “Barefoot in the Park.” It's so mushy, gushing and icky.

Yet, Ann Arbor Civic Theatre resurrects Simon's aging joke about the giddy young wife and the aspiring young lawyer in such a manner that there are a few good laughs as it churns.

At the opening night performance in the Lydia Mendelssohn Theatre, people laughed in places where technically it wasn't quite up to snuff for one reason or another, which must demonstrate the comedy still is funny to those who haven’t seen it before — and there must be more of these than one would suspect, those who have seen it and are hooked on Simonese yowlers or, thirdly, those who don't know any better.

Lines referring $125 apartments being high priced are worth a laugh and there might be a little head scratching over who was Andrea Doria (she was a ship who became involved in a mishap).

Otherwise, Ted Heusel has come up with a fairly trim, praiseworthy and likable production. It is not too skipping and blithe, nor does it wallow in the more dainty and draggy aspects of young lovers falling in love, falling out of love, kicking each other out of bed.

If the Bratters, as portrayed by Jennifer A. McLogan and William J. Cross, lived above you, you probably wouldn't move to get away from them, but neither would you go out of your way to fraternize with them.

For the first act, where she threatens to cook in a bikini, puts on a negligee over her overalls, threatens to do a fertility dance and he thinks about nothing but his law briefs, advancing his career and the next day in court, you probably would ignore them.

Because they are on a stage, Neil Simon is known to write funny lines about funny situations and Miss McLogan and Cross are doing acceptable jobs of acting, we laugh.

The fight scenes in the second part of the comedy probably bring out the best acting in them, however. This actress and actor take special delight in peeling off a little veneer from each other. Then a little more. And a little more.

Amy Vuolo’s mother is on the verge of being something different from the usual stock mothers which have been poured by the gross into Simonland, especially this comedy of his. To be really developed, though, her mother probably would need the close work of director and actress and some astute coaching as to when to move on the laugh lines and when to deliver them and then move.

There seems to be times when she has motivation for moving back and forth, up and down the stage but only stands and talks. She does have a very funny scene in which she pops fried eels into her mouth at the insistence of Charles Stallman.

In beret, wool scarf knotted around his neck,  Stallman is a craftsman at acting the Hungarian, Romanian or Russian (the character’s origins are vague) bohemian. Perhaps, people are too busy watching Stallman elevate acting to an art to laugh, but it seems he has a lot funnier material than he gets credit for.

Fred Beutler, at the same time, libels the Post Office Department and all its carriers, but they probably will be too busy laughing at his stumbling and staggering and shortness of breath to sue.

Likewise, the telephone company probably is not going to get too upset over what Albert Phillips does with his Bronx accent to the repairman's image.

As the neighbors who complain about all the noise in Apartment 501, Jennifer Heusel and Becky Olenehek are clearly visible only at the curtain call, but there is no overlooking their mostly offstage performance.

Further performances are at 8 p.m. today through Saturday.