A work unfinishing: Margin Notes: What Passes For Comedy

What Passes For Comedy

Alain Pierre as Tory Browne. Photo by Reiko Yoo.

Seen on: Thursday, 11/03/22.
My grade: B-. An interesting argument, but an uneven execution.

Plot and Background

The Chain Theatre presents a new play by G.D. Kimble, a look in the writers room of a late night talk show in early 1960s America. After the show's host Jack Harrod says a (scripted) antisemitic slur live on air, hell breaks loose as showrunner, network head, and stars all demand answers, apologies, and a new script from the show's three relatively novice writers: Tory, a Black Harvard grad hired specifically to write for the show's Black bandleader Bunny Brown; Adam/Zep, the Jewish writer responsible for the Yiddishisms in the host's monologues (as well as the slur); and Will, a blonde-haired gentile raised in privilege who's cut himself off from his wealthy family. Tensions rise as each man's insecurities and inner furies come hollering to the surface in an examination of, well, what passes for comedy.

Playwright Kimble and director Rick Hamilton workshopped this play in the 2020 Chain Play Writing Lab before bringing it to full production here.

What I Knew Beforehand

I've reviewed for The Chain before, when they were still based in Queens.

Thoughts:

Play: Playwright Kimble has chosen a messy topic, and I respect that he deals with it as messily as it deserves. There's no clean finish, either in the early 60s or now, over half a century later. What Passes For Comedy is asking not just what jokes we can tell, but also who's allowed to tell them. It's significant that the antisemitic joke, though spoken by a gentile host, was penned by the staff's one Jewish writer. It's significant that Tory, the one Black writer, is the only one allowed to write for the show's Black bandleader (it's also significant that Tory, while inept at the style of joke they want for the bandleader, has been covertly writing jokes for the white host and having them pitched by the staff's gentile writer). The play digs into some complex issues within these marginalized identities as well: Tory, young and educated, is disgusted at the "shucking and jiving" that Bunny has to perform, but cannot see the battles that Bunny has won in order to get to his position and power, compromised though they may be; Tory and Zep's friendship began as the two Others at a greeting card company, but as Tory reminds Zep he has white privilege, even as a Jew, Zep grudgingly tells Tory of his history of getting beaten up by Black children on his walk to school. It's all messy, and it should be, and the only part of the argument I bristled at was, at least to my perception, a bit of imbalance in each side's attempt to dismiss discrimination against the other's identity. The 1960s is beyond too early to tell a Jew to get over the Holocaust, just as it's too early to tell a Black person to get over slavery, especially as both communities are still being actively discriminated against. But I do think Kimble, a Black playwright, did his best at balance, and I can't say I could have done better. What I wish had been said, however, is what both communities need to hear: It is not a contest. It's not Enslavement and Jim Crow vs Pogroms and the Holocaust. Pitting the Black community against the Jewish community is, besides erasing the intersectionality of Black Jews, falling victim yet again to White Supremacy, the actual villain here. Let's not forget that when two characters in the play finally come to blows, it's the old white studio head who storms out yelling the N word.

And then of course the final beat (spoilers, darlings) hammers home the deeply uncomfortable truth: what passes for comedy? Host Jack Harrod can't say the antisemitic slur, but he can make as many Black stereotype jokes as he wants, the audience eating it all up, as Bunny's wide smile becomes a rictus of agony, his eyes filling with angry tears.

I think Kimble's play is a better script than is being served by director Rick Hamilton. It still needs some editing (the second act gets too lecture-y, and there are unearned reconciliations between Tory and Zep, and Tory and Bunny, an attempt at a cleaner exit than this argument deserves), but the story and characters move along at a clip--or rather they should, but they don't in this production, which flows a little too relaxed for its stakes. And especially in the first act, where the writers are spitballing jokes faster than they can write them down, this stuff should be fast and funny but most of it doesn't land. The writers are scripted to be spitting out punchlines almost in spite of themselves, those guys who just can't keep their mouths shut; but here they're just taking their turn without any internal conflict. When the whole cast is failing to make me laugh at lines that are objectively funny, that lands more in the director's lap for me than the actors'.

Cast: As writing partners Tory and Zep, Alain Pierre and Jordan Elman have terrific chemistry, really giving us the sense of a seasoned friendship finally noticing its hairline fractures. Pierre's grounded presence and earnest conviction also carry not only him but the entire second half of the play as he becomes the burning fire igniting everyone around him. As bandleader Bunny Brown, Ryan Brooke Taylor is everything you want: all smiles and pocket squares on camera, but livid, tired, and piercing behind the scenes. Even as the audience cringes at the minstrel energy he has to perform, we can also see just how this man became a star: he's got more charisma than anyone else in the room. Unfortunately the show's host Jack Harrod, as played by Michael Filisky, doesn't manage that two-faced balance as effectively: he's believably a complete dick offscreen, but it's hard to buy him as a charismatic host when the camera's on. Special shoutout though to Rory Lance as showrunner Jerry Schaal, who wins the biggest laugh of the night with an entrance that turns immediately into an exit. Now that's comedy.

Design: E.A. Frank's scenic design is perfect: the writers room of The Jack Harrod Show is a litter of three mismatched metal desks, a smattering of chairs and a worn couch, walls papered with photos of icons, framed magazine covers, and newspaper clippings, and mesh trash bins filled with crumpled paper (and a carton or two from some Chinese takeout), with the only quality piece of equipment being the two-knobbed box TV to watch Jack live (and die) on air. Debbi Hobson's costumes are perhaps a bit simplistic in their palates (both Jewish characters are in earth tones, both Black characters in black suits), but well-fitted to the character's personalities and figures.

***

Running: Now playing at The Chain Theatre - Opening: October 30, 2022. Closing: November 19, 2022.
Category: play
Length: 2 hours, 15 minutes, including intermission.

Creative Team

Playwright: G.D. Kimble
Music: Robert Pound
Director: Rick Hamilton
Designers: E.A. Frank (Set), Debbi Hobson (Costume), Michael Abrams (Lighting), Greg Russ (Sound), Allie Goldhammer (Stage Manager).

Cast: Stan Buturla, Jordan Elman, Michael Filisky, Rory Lance, Andrew O'Shanick, Alain Pierre, Ryan Brooke Taylor.