Theatre in Review: The Gin Game (Golden Theatre)James Earl Jones and Cicely Tyson are giving such confident, entertaining performances at the Golden these nights, not until very late does it becomes apparent that they are not really playing The Gin Game. Each of the three casts I've seen in D. L. Coburn's vinegary comedy -- Hume Cronyn and Jessica Tandy, and Charles Durning and Julie Harris were the others -- have taken a different tack, resulting in wildly varying experiences. But not all roads lead to a satisfying conclusion and the big question is if audiences will be sufficiently amused by the graveside vaudeville of Leonard Foglia's production to forgive the fact that it falls apart in the final scene. As Weller Martin, Jones comes on strong early, lumbering across the porch of Riccardo Hernandez's decrepit nursing home set -- with its unpainted exterior and piles of unused furnishings, it looks like the authorities should shut it down, immediately -- and hurling a walker that was sitting in his favorite chair. His body bears the burden of the accumulated weight of years of disappointment; looking around with a gimlet eye, his face frozen into a stoic mask, he grumbles, "If you live long enough, sooner or later you end up in one of these places," and you suddenly understand what a hopeless thing old age can be. Taking note of the home's residents, he snaps, "Half of them are catatonic, for Christ's sake. And sometimes the ones who do talk make you appreciate the ones who don't." His obvious loneliness is made manifest in his determination to engage Tyson, as Fonsia, a newcomer, in the title game; when he puts down the card table, it is with a tremendous thud, as if to announce that he is alive and here, dammit, and ready to play. Jones creates plenty of laughter with Weller's open-mouthed astonishment as Fonsia, an apparent newcomer to gin, wins game after game. (The plot of Coburn's play hinges on the fact that the seemingly naive Fonsia simply cannot lose; Weller even begins to think that the supernatural is involved, muttering darkly, "We're going to find out exactly what force is at work here.") And it is genuinely touching when the two take part in a little foxtrot, and Weller, wincing, must cut the episode short because he can't stand up for long without his cane. He can be crafty, too: Note how deftly he deflects personal questions by dealing the next hand, changing the subject by loudly counting the cards. Clearly, Weller doesn't want to tell too much about himself; the gin game is his connection to Fonsia and it is a tenuous one. In contrast, Tyson's style is slyer, subtler; if Jones booms out his lines in that trademarked voice, she prattles on quietly, a flute to Jones' baritone horn; there's a hint of a wail in everything she says, as if she can't quite believe she has ended up in this godforsaken place. She enters, looking solitary, hesitant, and eager for companionship once Weller gets her to the card table. "I thought this was going to be an awful day," she says, for it is Visitors Day and neither she nor Weller expects anyone to show up, and suddenly there is solidarity in their mutual solo states. There's a genuinely touching moment when each of them shows up for their second day of cards, dressed in their best outfits, an unspoken sign of the importance their new friendship plays in their lives. But as Fonsia keeps winning games and Weller starts to unravel, Tyson wins laugh after laugh. "I swear, this game relaxes me," she beams, rearranging her cards while Weller fumes. Concluding a sentence about her hard times with yet another cry of "Gin," it becomes clear that she is also the most formidable of opponents. Keep an eye on Tyson's face and see how quickly, and with only the most minor adjustments, a look of private delight becomes a dead-eyed stare. And note how, despite her scattered manner, she increasingly plays her cards with a distinct note of ruthlessness. Later, when her constant wins take their toll and Weller is determined to win at any cost -- when he has turned the table over in fury and let loose a volley of insults -- she sits, slightly slumped in her chair and ashen-faced, looking ever so slightly like a prisoner. Together, they make sparkling comedy -- honestly observed, telling in its details -- of this unwitting battle between two people in the endgame of their lives, and if The Gin Game was meant to be a rollicking evening, the stars and their director would be home free. But what Coburn wants us to see is that each new deal of the deck brings us closer to the truth of each character -- the son who won't visit her and the business dealings that left him ruined and alone -- and if the first three of the play's four scenes are played only for charm and humor, the actors are left marooned in the final scene, when the words turn ugly and the little deceptions that make their lives bearable are cruelly stripped away. Even at the distance of more than three decades, I can recall Cronyn's red-faced fury, the violence with which he slammed his cane onto the card table. I also see before me the final image of Tandy, sinking onto a couch in a heap of misery, fully aware that she has lost her only friend. In that production, when Weller said something unforgivably cruel to Fonsia, there was dead silence in the theatre; in this production, the audience is a loud "Ooooh," like you sometimes hear on the lesser television sitcoms. As befits stars of their stature, everything else about the production is first-class. As mentioned, Hernandez's set is a masterpiece of squalor, although the show curtain, a scrim depicting the branch of a tree in fall colors, seems a tad soft and sentimental for what is to follow. The lighting, by Jules Fisher and Peggy Eisenhauer, is typically immaculate, adding enormously to the stage picture via a dozen carefully placed details. Hernandez's fine costumes also provide a reliable index to the character's shifting moods. The sound design, by David Van Tieghem, creates a sense of the life inside the house; there is also an evocative audio montage of various radio programs, used to cover the change between the first two scenes. Because this production features two of Broadway's most beloved stars displaying vitality far beyond their years, audiences may feel they are getting value for money; certainly the reception at the performance I attended was a total love-in. But there is a much more mordant play lurking inside, one that brings its character to a stunningly bleak conclusion. I'd like to see that play again sometime -- with stars of the caliber of Jones and Tyson. -- David Barbour 
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