Theatre in Review: The Tribute Artist (Primary Stages/59E59)

	Julie Halston, Charles Busch. Photo: James Leynse

Would you commit a crime to get your hands on a deluxe, mint-condition Greenwich Village town house? If you're a New Yorker, the question is too ridiculous: Of course, you would. That's the premise of Charles Busch's latest comic caper. Busch plays Jimmy, a New Yorker but lately of Las Vegas, where he stars in one of those boys-will-be-girls revues. Don't call him a drag queen; he prefers the more august term "celebrity tribute artist." Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, and the celebrities he excels at impersonating are no longer au courant. ("You were lauded for your Marilyn and Pearl Bailey," he is reminded, a comment that bears extended consideration.) Sadly, Jimmy is a little too long in the tooth to pass for the VH1 pop stars of today, and he has been given the axe.

Twice a year, Jimmy returns to New York, where he is the houseguest of the elderly Adriana. A retired fashion designer whose husband was a UN diplomat, she lives in splendid isolation inside a stunningly appointed townhouse that once reverberated with the conversation of world figures. Adriana is as tough as they come -- "You've always been sweet to me in your sulfuric-acid kind of way" is the best compliment Jimmy can manage -- and now she is giving up on life, seeing no one and refusing medical treatment. With no family or loved ones, her ennui is such that she has even decided not to leave a will.

When Adriana quietly passes away on the couch after a few too many glasses of white wine, Jimmy has a brainstorm: What if he impersonates Adriana just long enough for Rita, his best friend and a real estate agent, to sell the place for something in the mid-eight figures? They could split the proceeds and be set for life. Rita, a hard-drinking single lesbian whose career is going nowhere, is initially appalled but quickly signs on.

This what-could-possibly-go-wrong scenario is considerably complicated by the appearance of Christina, Adriana's loathed niece from Wisconsin, who has a claim on the house, and Christina's teenage offspring, a "trans man" named Oliver (née Rachel). Things really get squirrelly when Oliver, through the wonders of Facebook, digs up Rodney, formerly Adriana's rough-trade boy toy and now a seedy middle-aged criminal who wants to cut himself in on the deal. Thus this cast of connivers settles in for a long siege while Christina, who still thinks Jimmy is Adriana, decides whether to agree to the sale. Jimmy, who can't resist the wrong man, falls hard for Rodney, while Rita starts casting longing glances at Christina. Neither love object is interested, leading to an attempted orgy (held offstage) that has mortifying consequences for all.

If you stop to think about it, The Tribute Artist asks you to believe far too much -- Busch also somehow works anti-gay bullying and trafficking in human body parts into his bizarre storyline -- and, for that matter, the action is a little top-heavy with exposition, but as a playwright, he is meticulous about construction, and he builds his plot with enough care that it's easy to go along for the ride. Anyway, with these laughs, you'd be crazy to complain. It goes without saying that Busch is a riot, swanning around in Adriana's caftans, dispensing his own brand of great-lady graciousness to Christina and Oliver, and discreetly chasing after Rodney while (unsuccessfully) trying to keep his identity a secret from him. The longer the impersonation goes on, the more he interpolates bits of his Vegas act into the action. The fed-up Rita starts pointing out these little bits of Bette Davis and Joan Crawford until Jimmy, furious, roars, "Would you please stop annotating me?" (As Rita quite reasonably points out, "The majority of the people in the room don't get your references.")

Julie Halston, Busch's long-time partner in crime, is a delight as Rita, who in her own way is as desperate as Jimmy. (When Adriana, who has no use for her, notes that she is rated on a web site as one of the worst real estate agents in New York, Rita snaps, "I got one-and-a-half stars; that's about average!") Landing among this gaggle of creative liars, she offers up the brutal truth, providing caustic commentary as the plot spins out of control. She is especially delectable while envisioning her future as the in-house drunk at a Key West bar, attended by a gaggle of gay twenty-somethings, and she makes an unforgettable impression in one of Adriana's gowns, a floor-length Emilio Pucci-style nightmare accompanied by a boa that could choke a horse.

In a Busch play, there are no small parts, and, under Carl Andress' direction, everyone seizes their opportunities. Cynthia Harris makes the most of her brief appearance as Adriana, who enjoys cutting Rita down to size. ("Nehru once sat in that chair -- and now you," she pronounces, in a voice that makes horribly clear how the world has gone to the dogs.) Mary Bacon comes on strong as Christina, who by her own admission is followed by "a radioactive cloud of misery," and melts sweetly under Jimmy/Adriana's ministrations. Keira Keeley is a charmer as Oliver, who is dazzled by New York and would dearly love to be taken to The Cubbyhole, the storied West Village women's bar. Jonathan Walker, another Busch regular, exudes menace and bluster as Rodney, especially when offering up the rather theatrical sexual details of his life with Adriana. Busch usually gives one of his characters a big blowout exit speech, and here Walker is the beneficiary, when Rodney, his perfidy exposed, tells everyone just what he thinks of them before beating a retreat.

This is a production where design really matters, and the team does not disappoint. Anna Louizos' stately town house setting -- with its elegant green walls, French Provincial furniture, and Phantom of the Opera-size chandelier -- is the kind of palace anyone would kill for, and Kirk Bookman's lighting lends it an extra patina of glamour. Of course, Gregory Gale's costumes include some stunners for Busch and Harris, but he also dresses everyone else in character-appropriate clothes. Jill BC Du Boff's sound design provides a handful of required effects (for example, thunder when the action turns sinister) as well as reinforcement for Lewis Flinn's amusing original music.

It may seem a bit pedantic to point it out, but The Tribute Artist is, thematically, a remarkably coherent piece of work. Jimmy is hardly the only impersonator in the cast, as the others gradually reveal their own abundant lies and deceptions. And Oliver isn't the only character whose road to self-discovery is a long and winding one. As Jimmy marvels to Rita at one point, "It seems the more honest you are, the more people believe you." Of course, when he says it, he is dressed as a woman. In any case, Busch certainly need not fear Jimmy's fate; he's not going out of style anytime soon. --David Barbour