Crises and Quips In Rudnick’s Comedy

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The New York Sun

Is Paul Rudnick this generation’s George Bernard Shaw?

The short answer to this question is “no,” although Shaw, theater’s pre-eminent naysayer on all things Shakespearean, might have enjoyed chatting with the author of “I Hate Hamlet.” He also might have gotten a kick out of “Regrets Only,” in which Mr. Rudnick smuggles a political call for action within a quip-a-minute comedy of manners.

Trust the man who has found comic mileage in both AIDS (“Jeffrey”) and the gay-bashing death of Matthew Shepard (“Rude Entertainment”) to turn the controversy over gay marriage into a saucy, sharp-tongued comedy of uncivil disobedience. Think of it as a lavender “Lysistrata.” Only near the end, when a medicinal taste creeps into the frothy concoction (a habit that also afflicted Shaw, by the way), do Mr. Rudnick and director Christopher Ashley let the message drown out the merriment.

On its sparkly surface, “Regrets Only” could almost have been written by Mr. Rudnick’s nom de plumage Libby Gelman-Wexler, the witheringly vacuous movie columnist for Premiere magazine. The male lead, Hank Hadley (George Grizzard), is a hugely successful fashion designer, which allows for plenty of Mr. Rudnick’s beloved put-downs, strafing everyone from Nancy Reagan to Donna Karan. “You should really have her do your gown,” Hank says to a prospective bride. “Because then you can wear it to work.” (Any designer would be proud to claim William Ivey Long’s marvelous costumes as his or her own.)

Hank is a frequent social companion to the spectacularly rich Tibby McCullough (Christine Baranski), who espouses a credo of fabulousness at all costs. A typical night of charity events is on deck for the duo, but just before they leave Tibby’s splendid Fifth Avenue drawing room (designed with consummate taste by Michael Yeargan), her husband and daughter arrive with news.

Jack McCullough (an amusing David Rasche) has been asked by the president to work on an amendment to the Constitution, and he’s asked his newly engaged daughter, Spencer (Diane Davis), to join him on drafting “a more workable and ironclad definition of legal marriage.” Hank, despite his own ambivalence toward the idea of marriage (“If you want to kill something beautiful, just add crab-cakes and God”), doesn’t like the sound of this amendment one bit. And he’s got a Rolodex filled with people who share his concerns — and are willing to do something about it.

While Mr. Rudnick is a reliable source of quotable one-liners, workable dramatic plots aren’t always as easy to find. It’s hard to say which aspect of “Regrets Only” is more extraneous from a narrative point of view: the lawyerly questions Spencer asks to help with exposition or the constant outbursts supplied by the McCulloughs’ wisecracking maid, Myra (Jackie Hoffman).

It helps that director Christopher Ashley, Mr. Rudnick’s frequent collaborator, has helped his cast establish a terrific rapport; when characters express mirth or shock, you honestly believe the actors are hearing these lines for the first time and responding genuinely. (The noted exception to this is the divine Ms. Hoffman, who doesn’t have a naturalistic bone in her body, and God bless her for it.) Sian Philips rounds out the cast capably as Tibby’s sharp-tongued mother.

Of course, the idea of a “Velvet Mafia,” a surreptitious gay cabal, is the sort of conceit that a straight playwright could never get away with, and Mr. Rudnick pulls it off with his usual bratty brio. But the momentum is halted in Act II by a weakness for speechifying; after the third or fourth character leaves the stage with a speech about his or her position on marriage, it’s hard not to be nostalgic for the digs at Ralph Lauren and Vera Wang.

When a life devoted to frivolity suddenly veers toward activism, as Hank’s does, the question arises: Why now? Hank has been handed a crisis of sorts — the death of his partner of 38 years, complete with a deathbed confrontation. But despite Mr. Grizzard’s marvelously understated performance, the change still feels like a contrivance. Mr. Rudnick’s heart doesn’t really seem to embrace the deeper ramifications of Hank’s newfound militancy.

Tibby’s shift in consciousness makes more sense: As a socialite who has coasted on her curves and her jokes all her life, she suddenly finds herself forced to take sides in a complex political and emotional discussion that has enormous repercussions for her family. After a 13-year hiatus since her last full New York stage production, Ms. Baranski makes up for lost time, using her exquisite comic timing to create a rare and vibrant creature — a sympathetic socialite. The sight of Tibby’s exhilaration as well as her terror at using her new-found wisdom is surprisingly affecting.

In Mr. Rudnick’s well-calibrated finale, the fate of her daughter’s wedding — not to mention the potential fate of all same-sex weddings — ultimately rests in Tibby’s hands. Her determination, coupled with a hard-won realization of the sacrifices she’s made over the course of her own marriage, leads her to a keen appreciation of what’s at stake:

“We’re gonna have a wedding, because weddings are gorgeous and glorious, and that’s how we trick people into getting married.”

The sentiment is droll, and a little bit sad, and almost Shavian. Almost.

Open run (131 W. 55th St., between Sixth and Seventh avenues, 212-581-1212).


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