Theatre in Review: Table 17 (MCC Theater)Romantic comedy is an endangered theatrical genre but playwright Douglas Lyons knows its secret: Comedy is the least of it. To be sure, Table 17 is loaded with humor, especially when a certified comic demon named Michael Rishawn is putting his quick sketch skills to use. But Lyons isn't interested in mechanical gags or rimshot one-liners: He takes considerable pains to ensure his wayward lovers are likable, flawed, thoroughly human types, thus giving us a rooting interest in them. They're funny because they are so much like us. They are Jada, a flight attendant, who, swaps out one mood - tart, tender, and sometimes profoundly insecure -- for another with lightning speed. He is Dallas, boyish, playful, and such a skilled put-on artist that one might not immediately notice his surprisingly serious eye on the future. Seeing this pair, so obviously right for each other, getting together for an awkward, post-breakup drinks-and-dinner, two questions prevail: What could have separated them? And what's keeping them apart? Such questions feel urgent because Lyons and his director, Zhailon Levingston, conspire to draw the audience into the action. Jason Sherwood's attractive eatery set surrounds a narrow runway stage with cabaret seating, allowing the characters to take us into their confidence. Most of the time, the device of direct address is the lazy playwright's friend; here, Lyons uses it creatively, inviting us to weigh in on the characters' choices, whether Jada is reviewing her sartorial options or Dallas is owning up to his bad behavior. "Aight, this is the part of the night when everybody hates Dallas," he says. "So, gon' get it out. Then, hear me out. We good? Okay." Given the size of the bombshell he has just dropped, he thoroughly deserves the verbal drubbing he gets. Chemistry is another secret ingredient in this type of entertainment and all three cast members invest the proceedings with considerable sparkle. Kara Young captures Jada's inherent volatility, making a sensational first appearance in a tight sheath dress and orange boa jacket, which she instantly replaces with denim cutoffs and an untucked white blouse. (Employing her screwball logic, she notes, "I want to look good enough for him to drool, but not so good that he thinks I want him back. Cause I don't want him back, though if I did want him back, I'd want him to want me back first, so I could tell his ass that I don't want him back." Got that?) Presented unexpectedly with an engagement ring, she screams in terror at her dressed-down and flees the room, returning seconds later, sans shower cap and teetering in heels, carefully positioning herself so Dallas' phone camera, recording this momentous event, can capture her best angle. Young also proves an expert pitcher of emotional curveballs. Whether skeptically referring to a would-be psychic as "Ms. Cleo," wilting a would-be suitor by announcing "I'm not 'bout to take romantic advice from a n---a who's been single since middle school," or snapping her head with such speed and surprise that you wonder it remains on her shoulders, she lands big laughs with aplomb. But lowering her eyes and leaning into Dallas at a forty-five-degree angle, she murmurs some uncomfortable truths about their broken relationship that reveal the rueful figure lurking behind under the sass and sarcasm. Jada would be challenging for most men, but Biko Eisen-Martin's Dallas wraps her up in his unassailable charm. Rangy, moving with feline grace, and gifted with a smile that instantly disarms, his sly manner has a magnetic effect. Playfully preening before meeting with Jada, he shows off his corduroy pants, boasting, "Most dudes can't rock it like I do." (That comment provokes plenty of eye-rolling from certain quarters.) His marriage proposal technique, involving a modified scavenger hunt, is prankish and kookily heartfelt. (On one knee, he tells Jada, "You are the marshmallow in the middle of my s'more." Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?) But he is human, too: Frustrated with her direct questions, he informs us, "Jada has this impeccable talent of remembering everything you say and cornering you with your own words when you forget them." And his stunned reaction to a betrayal he didn't see coming is a revelation; in a flash, a meticulously planned life comes crashing down. Skating around this loving, embattled pair is Rishawn in a trio of roles: River, the bitter, husband-hungry maitre d'/waiter in an understaffed restaurant; an unnamed bartender who pairs his acrobatic cocktail-making technique with allegedly penetrating insights into his customer's needs; and Eric, Jada's on-the-make colleague who soothes passengers with his pleasantly funereal baritone. ("Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard SkyFly Airlines. Where we never have to try, 'cause we always stay fly.") In some ways, River is the funniest of the three, especially when dismissing the offer of a hug from Jada ("A hug is not a man, is it?") or comparing himself to Casper, the Friendly Ghost when trying to get the lovers, absorbed in each other, to pay their check. But he makes the most of the bartender's oracular ways. (Eyeing Jada, he says, "You look like a dirty martini and not with the average olive. I'm talking blue cheese filled with extra vermouth. Slowly poured into a perfectly chilled glass awaiting you [at] bedside after a long day of work." She responds with a request for a glass of water.) And Eric, far from being a cardboard Casanova, is so wily, yet sufficiently attractive and thoughtful, that one sees how he might pry Jada away from Dallas. The rest of the production design contributes to the mood of romance combined with regret. Ben Stanton's lighting is marked by gorgeously saturated colors and lovely mirrorball effects. Devario D. Simmons' costumes are quick-change marvels, letting the characters slip in and out of flashbacks in seconds. Christopher Darbassie's sound design blends the roar of an airplane engine with the Natalie Cole classic "This Will Be (An Everlasting Love") plus "The Boy from Ipanema," and a lovely piano arrangement of "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?" That last title poses an excellent question, given the fraught nature of Dallas and Jada's relationship. Even following a devastating setback -- caused by a spectacularly ill-advised revelation from Dallas -- it seems obvious they can't quit each other. Both are justified in grievances and, in the way of lovers everywhere, a little immature in how they prosecute their cases. Can they get out of their way, and find the happiness they crave? Lyons doesn't say for sure although we can certainly make an educated guess. In any case, they make for delightful company. Thanks to Lyons and company, honest-to-God romantic comedy is making a comeback. -- David Barbour 
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