Reworking Neil Simon’s classic is a step too far
Barefoot in the Park | ★★★✩✩
NEIL SIMON is making a comeback. And not just on Broadway where a revival of Plaza Suite starring Mathew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker recently became the hottest ticket in town, but in Sonning which, nestling on the bucolic banks of the River Thames just outside Reading, might be described as the opposite of Broadway.
Here Paul and Corrie, the couple at the heart of the romantic comedy which launched the careers of Robert Redford and Jane Fonda, are well played by Jonny Labey and Hannah Pauley.
The play is set entirely in the newlyweds’ first apartment which is is perched on top of a brownstone like an eyrie.
Fans of Gene Saks’s 1967 film version will know that everyone who climbs the five flights of stairs is exhausted by the time they get to the front door, which is the best of Simon’s running gags.
“I didn’t think I’d make it,” says Corrie’s mum during her first visit. “If I’d known the people on the third floor I would have visited them instead.”
The plot is almost nonexistent. Corrie is an incurable romantic while Paul, a pragmatic lawyer, sees little romance in a flat with no heating, a hole in the skylight and no furniture. Can the marriage survive?
“I prefer it this way,” says Corrie to the phone company man. “It’s a well known fact that steam heat is bad for you,” she says. “Yeah?” he replies, “In February?”
If you love Simon, the problem with reviewing many of his plays, and certainly this one, is that you almost end up writing them. The lines live so vividly, devotees lip sync as they are spoken on the stage. This is an unfair disadvantage for a director — in this case Robin Herford — who wants to both honour the play and rediscover it anew.
Granted, much of the evening fizzes along in its dated, delightful way, buoyed by nostalgia and in these times of pandemic, culture and real wars, a cosy innocence too. But in this play, and possibly with this play alone, I would argue that it is so narratively thin, the best chance of satisfying its core audience is to use the movie as a template.
Take the scene in which an exhausted postman staggers through the door with two packages. “Put them anywhere,” says Corrie breezily. In the film he drops them where he stands as if it is his final act before dying. Here, he just dutifully puts them on the floor which is nowhere near as funny even though it is truer to Simon’s stage direction.
And if you’re not of New York, which, let’s face it, in this case is a euphemism for Jewish, you’re always going to miss the beats and rhythms required to make Simon’s dialogue fly. So you might take those cues from the film too.
Here there are misplaced emphases (with Paul’s breathless “I didn’t think I’d get that much out” the emphasis should be on “that” not “out”) but more problematically the whole evening runs at least 20 percent slower than it should.
Still, James Simmons and Rachel Fielding as respectively the married couple’s eccentric neighbour and Corrie’s good egg of a mother are spot on. Elsewhere, I know I’m being too geeky about it all. But when Simon isn’t staged exactly as it should be it’s like watching a family heirloom. You sit there thinking, “Hey, careful, you’re going drop it.” And in this country, they usually do.
The lines live so vividly devotees can’t help but lip sync as they are spoken on the stage