All That Titters Is Not Goldoni
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.
When Carlo Goldoni finally got around to writing down his comedy “The Servant of Two Masters” in 1754, his piece had already been in performance for nine years. In the commedia dell’arte, playwrights were originally responsible for “scenarios,” outlines of comic scenes, on which gifted clowns would elaborate and improvise. Goldoni, after providing several of these scenarios, eventually drove the form closer to the scripted theater by writing out parts. It took him nearly a decade, but Goldoni’s completed script for “Servant” was well-tuned enough to last more than 200 years.
Holly Golden’s production of the classic, now at P. S. 122, undoes a lot of his good work. She rightly suspects that a modern American cast might not have the capering skills of a well-trained Arlecchino. Ms. Golden’s adaptation abandons mask work for melodrama, moving the comic style closer to our shores. Heroines wear tumbling yellow curls and throw themselves into positions of distress; the company gasps whenever a dreaded name is mentioned. But Ms. Golden can’t quite make the substitution. Goldoni’s innovation introduced character back into comedy – after him, commedia wasn’t just gags and pratfalls anymore. Ms. Golden, though, keeps her eye trained on the banana peel.
Truffaldino (Karl Gregory, doing his darnedest to amuse) serves both Florindo (Khris Lewin) and Beatrice (Leigh Williams). In true New Yorker fashion, Truffaldino thinks that two jobs will make him rich, when instead they make him crazy. Beatrice is traveling disguised as her brother, hoping to pull a swindle that will reunite her with Florindo. But since neither “master” knows about the other, they’ll have to tumble in and out of ill-considered duels, unfortunate engagements, and a host of dinner parties before they reunite.
On an unprepossessing set lit dimly by designer Owen Hughes, the cast does its bouncy best. There’s strain in their game, though, as you can’t physically drag a laugh out of your audience. Mr. Lewin’s Florindo has enough of the macho idiot about him that he rescues most of his scenes. But the rest lack the virtuosic chops necessary for broad, physical comedy. Goldoni laid his table with timeless comic set pieces. Ms. Golden lets each dish slip through her fingers.
Until March 27 (150 First Avenue, at E. 9th Street, 212-477-5829).
