EVENT | THE PRISONER OF SECOND AVENUE | VENUE | THE VAUDEVILLE THEATRE
The Prisoner of Second Avenue
The Vaudeville Theatre, London (September, 2010)
The Vaudeville Theatre, London (September, 2010)
This Old Vic production of a play by Neil Simon dates from 1971, before President Ford rebuffed New York City Mayor Abraham Beame’s appeals in 1975 for help in the city’s debt obligations, and after a nationwide strike by auto workers against General Motors and the massacre at Kent State of four students by young and inexperienced national guardsmen, both in 1970. Scripted, therefore, long after the elegantly framed social comedies of Come Blow Your Horn (1961), Barefoot in the Park (1963) and The Odd Couple (1965), The Prisoner of Second Avenue revels in anxiety and syntactical expression, its subject the burgeoning ‘70s economic downturn and the burgeoning of a sense of collective working class protest. In this sense, the satirical re-staging of Grant Wood’s pre-Depression era American Gothic in much of the Old Vic’s publicity bears some meaning.
The now redundant Mel Edison, a once dedicated advertising accounts executive in the service of his employer for 22 years, is played by Jeff Goldblum who portrays a pathetic and lively hero, his performance an enjoyable confection befitting of Simon’s broad characterisation. In great form, his idiosyncratic approach — less with the hands this time, far more with the eyes — owes perhaps a fair bit to the eccentric mannerisms of his Seth Brundle under the direction of David Cronenberg, and the actor has of course touched on similar social crises before, the John Landis film Into the Night (1985) for one. In that film, his Ed Okin abandons his unfaithful wife and drives around L.A. for hours, hoping this will have a therapeutic effect; in The Prisoner of Second Avenue, on the other hand, Mel never once loses that literal connection back to his wife. Domestic servitude and love are, for Edna (Mercedes Ruehl), indissociable. Despite herself being part of a more egalitarian world not necessarily dominated by chauvinistic males, Edna is always supportive and always nurturing. On occasion Simon addresses this, at one point joking that Mel’s reliance on Edna for care will one day extend into the bathroom, but in contrast less is made of her dependence on him, particularly when it comes to the basics of personal attraction and fidelity.
The now redundant Mel Edison, a once dedicated advertising accounts executive in the service of his employer for 22 years, is played by Jeff Goldblum who portrays a pathetic and lively hero, his performance an enjoyable confection befitting of Simon’s broad characterisation. In great form, his idiosyncratic approach — less with the hands this time, far more with the eyes — owes perhaps a fair bit to the eccentric mannerisms of his Seth Brundle under the direction of David Cronenberg, and the actor has of course touched on similar social crises before, the John Landis film Into the Night (1985) for one. In that film, his Ed Okin abandons his unfaithful wife and drives around L.A. for hours, hoping this will have a therapeutic effect; in The Prisoner of Second Avenue, on the other hand, Mel never once loses that literal connection back to his wife. Domestic servitude and love are, for Edna (Mercedes Ruehl), indissociable. Despite herself being part of a more egalitarian world not necessarily dominated by chauvinistic males, Edna is always supportive and always nurturing. On occasion Simon addresses this, at one point joking that Mel’s reliance on Edna for care will one day extend into the bathroom, but in contrast less is made of her dependence on him, particularly when it comes to the basics of personal attraction and fidelity.
Jeff Goldblum (Mel Edison) and Mercedes Ruehl (Edna Edison) at the close of the show: The Prisoner of Second Avenue (2010)
The desire to transcend their white-collar lives, the impact of economic decline and of crime, the unjust punishment subsequently brought down upon them both, the emotional breakdowns they suffer, the sudden appearance of three equally nuts sisters, the implacable brother who scoffs at any desire to improve one’s lot, and the final return to a wintry scene of domestic harmony are characteristic of Simon, and in that sense The Prisoner of Second Avenue is as distanced from the current economic climate as Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008) or Whatever Works (2009) are to the heyday of his comedy. With The Prisoner of Second Avenue, Simon creates a specifically American idealisation with a socially therapeutic edge, his feed lines are often quite indelicate, as if from a Chuck Lorre comedy, while the trajectory of his narrative, from a metaphoric crucifixion to resurrection, is predictable. These aren’t notes of dissent necessarily; they are, rather, points to which we must invariably turn when considering the relevance of a New York City play, set and originally staged in the early 1970s, to a twenty-first century London in an economic downturn. Written for The New York Times, Patrick Healy’s piece, “Second Avenue Hits Home on West End” (from July 30), for some reason minimizes this point. I thought many of Simon’s themes and observations fell flat, but to my relief the principals were brilliant, Goldlbum dowdy and unfashionable, Ruehl impetuous and outrageous, the pair in the sharpest form from the very start.
Jeff Goldblum and Mercedes Ruehl with support cast: The Prisoner of Second Avenue (2010)
Images: by me.
4 September, 2010
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