Theatre in Review: Little Black Dress (The Exchange/Theatre at St. Clement's)

	Tobias Segal and Brian J. Smith. Photo: Kerry Long

If you're sentimental about small-town America, steel yourself for Little Black Dress. The author, Ronan Noone, takes a look at one of those heartland towns that are supposed to be the backbone of this country, and what he finds is boredom, squalor, and a vacuum where the values system should be. The municipality in question is named Blue River, Kansas. As 19-year-old Jimmy Beaudreaux, Jr. notes, the nearby river "ain't blue, more dirty brown, but they call it blue -- I guess 'cause people wouldn't come to our town if it was called dirty, shitty brown river town." Summing up, he adds, "All told, it's a nice place, as long as you avoid the methampetamines."

Well, maybe, but the evidence on stage points to a darker portrait. Jimmy, Jr., who has already tried suicide once, pretty much lives in his bedroom, surrounded by video games and porn. His mother and "best friend," Amy, toils for tips at the local diner. "I am 41," she confides to us. "And I read in a magazine that I am at my sexual peak." She shares with us the fairly pathetic collection of items that define what's missing in her life: a DVD of the film High Society; a picture of South Beach; a picture of a Marc Jacobs black cocktail dress; a bookmark with an image of Rock Hudson, "who I reckon is the best example of a man a women can get, even thought I know he was gay;" and a little silver cross given to her by her husband, Jimmy, Sr., when they were in high school; with it, she says, "I know God is keeping an eye out for me and my son, Jimmy, Jr."

Actually, it looks like God is asleep at the wheel as far as Nina and Jimmy, Jr are concerned. Every day is like the one before in Blue River, with Amy working hard for the money, and, at home, fending off the advances of the loutish, beer-guzzling Jimmy, Sr., while Jimmy, Jr. stays in his room, percolating with free-floating rage.

This apparently hopeless, static situation is given a thorough shaking up by Charley Prescott, Jimmy, Jr.'s young friend, who, at the age of 21, has set up a thriving business serving the community's love-starved wives. (He describes his services as "de-stressing.") It all began with an impromptu play-for-pay encounter with a certain Mrs. Finklestein ("Old Mrs. Finklestein," says Jimmy, Jr. incredulously. "Like Happy Birthday from Willard Scott Mrs. frigging Finklestein?") and, word having gotten around, Charley's stable of clients is growing beyond his ability to keep them all satisfied, so he signs up a reluctant Jimmy, Jr. as his associate.

Things really get complicated when Charley takes on Amy as a client, and their relations quickly transition into a full-blown affair. (Jimmy, Jr. doesn't know about it, nor is he aware that Amy knows about, and approves of, his job as Charley's associate "de-stressor.") Along with love comes the urge for escape; Charley and Amy plot to run off to Miami, where he will support them both by continuing to hustle. Disaster ensues when Jimmy, Sr. gets wind of the plan, leading to an incident that forever alters everyone's lives.

As long as Noone is detailing the fine points of these peculiar family arrangements, Little Black Dress provides its fair share of Orton-esque fun. Charley's services come with an elaborate set of hidden charges for things like cuddling and toenail painting -- kissing is verboten, under all circumstances -- but he's a success largely because he loves giving pleasure to women. ("I'm in the full-service desperation-killer business," he says, producing a bottle of sparkling wine.) Meanwhile, Jimmy, Jr. gets the dregs of the clients, including a Muslim wife covered from head to toe and an overly enthusiastic client who has a mean way with a whip. (This last incident leads to a pained contract negotiation between Jimmy, Jr. and Charley.) In a particularly clever sequence, Charley, bound for Miami, sends a letter to his clients, informing them of his plans ("To expand my business, I need an infinite supply of frustration"), turning them over to the sure-to-be nonplussed Jimmy, Jr.

Oddly, however, even though it robustly captures the comedy of inverted values, Ari Edelson's production fails to evoke the characters' slow-burning frustrations. This contributes a certain lackadaisical quality to the action, and it becomes a real problem in the last 15 or 20 minutes, when Jimmy, Sr. gets wind of Amy's plans and disaster ensues. The shift from satire to melodrama feels crude and unearned; the wrap-up is unexpectedly abrupt, featuring a couple of not-terribly-believable twists. Even more oddly, Charley drops out of the narrative altogether.

A similar unevenness affects the performances. Brian J. Smith gives Charley his best Eddie Haskell manner, a calculated blend of flattery and deference that believably gives way to a real passion for Amy. Tobias Segal could probably play Jimmy, Jr. with one hand tied behind his back, but there's an element of menace missing from his characterization, possibly because he spends so much time on the sidelines. This is even more true of Daniel Oreskes, whose Jimmy, Sr. is convincingly loutish but seemingly not much of a threat. Nina Hellman is good at capturing Amy's more dynamic side, but we never feel the deprivation that makes so determined to take action.

Another problem may be that the Theatre at St. Clement's -- a relatively cavernous space for Off Broadway, with only so-so acoustics -- isn't the ideal venue for an intimate black comedy with serious undertones. Nevertheless, Dane Laffrey's setting is an effective representation of a tacky tract house interior, featuring a combination kitchen living room plus Jimmy, Jr.'s filthy bedroom and a view of the patio outside; his costumes are perfectly fine, as well. Christopher Studley's lighting design makes use of a distinctive, green-toned color palette to get a wide variety of looks. Bart Fasbender's sound design includes some lively selections from Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and Dean Martin, all providing an ironic counterpoint to the seedy on-stage activities.

If Little Black Dress reads more strongly than it plays, it is, I suspect, because it has yet to find its ideal production. Nevertheless, it provides further evidence, following his earlier work, The Atheist, that Noone is a playwright with a distinctively dark sense of humor. Maybe next time out, he'll get more of a full-service production.--David Barbour