Theatre in Review: Cellino v. Barnes (Asylum NYC)Memo to the creators of Cellino v. Barnes: The jingle is all you ever needed. Mike B. Breen and David Rafailedes have drawn up a satirical history of the New York law firm known for high-camp commercials featuring that notorious earworm. ("Cellino and Barnes, in-JUR-y attorneys," followed by the phone number. Once heard, it was never forgotten, no matter how much one tried.) Ross Cellino, Jr. and Steve Barnes weren't the first lawyers to rely on cheesy television ads, but they were among the most enthusiastic practitioners of this dark art -- and, again, that jingle! It reliably made one feel warm and fuzzy about filing a personal injury lawsuit. In Breen and Rafailedes' view, the Cellino and Barnes story is the ultimate shyster bromance, the rise and fall of men blessed with more nerve than talent, bluffing their way to fame and fortune before falling out spectacularly. But, even as enthusiastically performed by Eric William Morris (Cellino) and Noah Weisberg (Barnes), Cellino v. Barnes resembles one of those late-in-the-evening SNL sketches that, conceived under severe deadline pressure, never pays off. Rest assured: Your funny bone is protected from injury. The script is filled with sort-of jokes that reach into the lower depths of silliness hoping to stir up laughs. Consider the following: Barnes, interviewing Cellino says, "What would you say your greatest strength is?" "My calves," Cellino replies. Calling out his partner's questionable tactics, Barnes says in accusatory tones, "I once saw you dress up like the defendant and admit to the crime during a trial." "And I, as Barbara Edelman, was found liable for manslaughter," Cellino notes, triumphantly. Cellino, explaining why he skipped legal night classes for his daughter's hockey matches, explains, that the girl's "twelve-and-under team needs an enforcer, and it takes six hours of prosthetic makeup to make me a believable little girl." With material like that, the actors could sue their writers for non-support; any jury would award them a record settlement. Morris brings a wicked-little-boy demeanor to Cellino's most brazen gambits, most notably a loan-shark operation, lending money to clients, which, in real life, got the firm into gallons of hot water. And he is pretty amusing when announcing, "My father's firm is the most prestigious in all of Buffalo, New York," using awed tones for "Buffalo" as it were London, New York, and Paris rolled into one. Weisberg, outfitted in what I hope is an intentionally false bald cap, earns a good laugh when proudly touting his 3.4 grade point average. But he is also forced to take the plot to its illogical extreme, when Barnes envisions a vertical scheme in which the firm, taking ownership of a hospital and EMT service, is to become a one-stop shopping mart for the victimized. The unraveling of the partnership, thanks to jealousy, legal woes, and unchecked ambition, is especially tiresome, because...well, why should one care about these ambulance chasers? Wesley Taylor and Alex Wyse give the material the best possible hearing with their well-timed, slam-bang direction; even so, they can't make a case for an overlong sketch that aims at some exceptionally ripe targets and misses. Among the designers, Aiden Bezark (lighting) and Chiara Pizzirusso (sound consultant) have fun with blatant cues meant to suggest moments of almost divine revelation. Riw Rakkulchon's office set is dominated, not inappropriately, by towers of Bankers Boxes. In their commercials, Cellino and Barnes favored dark, lawyerly-looking suits off the rack at Brooks Brothers, so it's a little strange that Ricky Lurie dresses Morris in a sporty, checked-plaid ensemble more suitable for a day at the races. Some in the audience at the performance I attended found plenty to laugh at, but, to my mind, nothing in Cellino v. Barnes is as entertaining as their unintentionally amusing ads. Check them out on YouTube; you'll see what I mean. --David Barbour 
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