6:00 PM PDT 10/9/2014 by David Rooney
Broadway buddies Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane head an all-star cast in Terrence McNally’s irreverent backstage comedy
There are 26 credited producers on the Broadway production of Terrence McNally‘s theater-biz satire It’s Only a Play, and presumably nobody will be laughing harder than those guys at the zingers about the phalanx of moneymen who now regularly mob the Radio City stage when winners are announced on Tony Awards night. The in-jokes come thick and fast in this extensively retooled revival, which has been raking in huge grosses through previews thanks to its deluxe cast.
The big draw is the reteaming of Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick, the adored double-act who made the Mel Brooks musical The Producers a commercial juggernaut and demonstrated their box-office clout again in a 2005 revival of Neil Simon‘s The Odd Couple. But it’s in Lane’s dynamite early scenes with gifted newcomer Micah Stock that this funny if flimsy comedy really fires on all cylinders, while Broderick underwhelms in a key role.
McNally’s farcical doodle starts out like gangbusters but becomes increasingly uneven. It has an annoying habit of stalling when it should accelerate, particularly in a padded second act that could use an editor. Still, there’s much enjoyment to be had from this amusing sketch, first performed in 1978 and then overhauled in 1982. That version has been revised in subsequent productions to update its many insider references to the current Broadway landscape.
Basically, it’s a two-hour-40-minute New Yorker cartoon set in the Manhattan townhouse of a dilettante producer as she and her guests await the opening-night reviews of a new play. A razor-toothed parody of that most insular showbiz species, Broadway theater folk, it’s also an affectionate valentine to them.
What keeps it entertaining even when the writing falters is McNally’s equal-opportunity ribbing of everyone involved — playwrights, producers, actors, directors, theater landlords, stagehands, etc. That favorite punching bag, the critic, takes a beating; even doddery matinee audiences with their faulty listening devices (“What did she say?”) get an irreverent jab. Just the sheer volume of jokes being fired off ensures that anyone even vaguely familiar with Broadway lore will be laughing.
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With box office north of $1.2 million a week and hefty advance sales, It’s Only a Play, unlike The Golden Egg, probably doesn’t need reviews. Either way, while the vehicle is not exactly robust, McNally and O’Brien know the terrain well enough to ensure that it sparkles more often than it sags.