The Business of Laughter

“Even if he was a communist, why would he have cards printed up?” the writer asks, hearing that General George Marshall has just been accused by Joseph McCarthy of being a card-carrying communist. It’s just another day at the office — the crazy, neurotic, hysterical office for Lucus (Zachary Twardowski) as he tries to make it as a comedy writer for a major comedian against the pressures of lowering network standards and Cold War propaganda.

Laughter on the 23rd Floor is one of Neil Simon’s semi-autobiographical pieces that follows a crowd-pleasing formula of nostalgia and witty banter, with a mild political agenda (fascism is bad) we can all get behind.

Coarse doesn’t begin to define the language used in this play. VLT traditionally attracts an older crowd, and it’s a sign of the times that these octogenarians didn’t so much as flinch as strings of ribald repartee launched from the mouths of the actors. While I pride myself on being able to roll with the hippest grandpa when it comes to language, when a term that means both homosexual and the wood once used to burn them is dropped, the language has gone too far.

Director Chris Pinto culled a strong cast and ignited a frenetic energy between them. Paul Rhoden’s layered and volatile Max Prince is cracking jokes and smashing walls in equal measure as he slips into drug and alcohol abuse under the pressure of fame. Particularly adept is Rhoden’s handling of the character’s misquotation of every great war leader from Hannibal to Churchill, like a western civ lecture given by a crack addict. “Never have so many given so much, for so long, for so little, for so few, for so seldom.”

“God, he is good,” a man sitting near me said of Michael P. Watkins as the needy, self-absorbed hypochondriac Ira Stone. It is wonderful fun to watch Watkins up the ante in this cast as he takes each scene to its emotional and comedic limits. Tom Wilson is endearing as the flashily dressed Milt. Jay Hash pulls off the best acting I’ve seen him do as the Russian funny man Val.

Overall direction was strong; Pinto, like Neil Simon, has comedy down. I was impressed at how the actors felt for audience reaction and waited for us to stop snorting with laughter before they led us in to the next round of jokes. But there were some scenes when either the director’s hand was a little too heavy or the actors were not able to access his instruction properly. Actors would be rolling along just fine, then suddenly it seemed as though they were prodded with a big, invisible stick. The cast would shuffle and resettle like a flock of anxious pigeons, and I found myself wishing they’d just be left in peace to tell their jokes.

For the majority of Laughter on the 23rd Floor, the audience was howling with laughter, tears rolling as our bodies fought to deal with such hilarity. Leaving the theater I felt like I just spent a week on vacation, relaxed and happy.

Laughter on the 23rd Floor runs through Oct. 26 at the Very Little Theatre.

A Note From the Publisher

Dear Readers,

The last two years have been some of the hardest in Eugene Weekly’s 43 years. There were moments when keeping the paper alive felt uncertain. And yet, here we are — still publishing, still investigating, still showing up every week.

That’s because of you!

Not just because of financial support (though that matters enormously), but because of the emails, notes, conversations, encouragement and ideas you shared along the way. You reminded us why this paper exists and who it’s for.

Listening to readers has always been at the heart of Eugene Weekly. This year, that meant launching our popular weekly Activist Alert column, after many of you told us there was no single, reliable place to find information about rallies, meetings and ways to get involved. You asked. We responded.

We’ve also continued to deepen the coverage that sets Eugene Weekly apart, including our in-depth reporting on local real estate development through Bricks & Mortar — digging into what’s being built, who’s behind it and how those decisions shape our community.

And, of course, we’ve continued to bring you the stories and features many of you depend on: investigations and local government reporting, arts and culture coverage, sudoku and crossword puzzles, Savage Love, and our extensive community events calendar. We feature award-winning stories by University of Oregon student reporters getting real world journalism experience. All free. In print and online.

None of this happens by accident. It happens because readers step up and say: this matters.

As we head into a new year, please consider supporting Eugene Weekly if you’re able. Every dollar helps keep us digging, questioning, celebrating — and yes, occasionally annoying exactly the right people. We consider that a public service.

Thank you for standing with us!