| . | 11/11/2009
Superior Donuts
By: Eugene Paul
photo by Robert J. Saferstein
Superior Donuts is comfort food for the over 50 TV viewer, the kind of TV show you used to see on those hour long family dramas, gussied up for the theater with cuss words which always tell audiences how real the dialogue is. In a setting straight out of the August Wilson catalogue of broken down Americana, playwright Tracy Letts has dug down to the bottom of his proverbial trunk and pulled out what seems to be his earliest full length play, nowhere near as electrifying as his Bug, far more tepid than his August, Osage County. Were it not for Michael McKean’s eminently poignant evocation of a forlorn nobody’s reaching out to his own humanity, Superior Donuts wouldn’t belong anywhere near Broadway, let alone right smack in the gilded heart of it. Nevertheless, more than two dozen producers checked out their tip sheets, handicapped the show and bet with their bucks and their guts and good luck to them, because it sure wasn't a sure thing like Brighton Beach Memoirs.
After all, what’s it got? A broken down doughnut shop in a shabby neighborhood run by Arthur, a broken down reclusive shell of a man (the wonderful Michael McKean). The standard nervy kid, Franco, (Jon Michael Hill) who talks himself into a job there, delivers all the laugh lines, nails every one, and, well, wouldn’t you know, is a budding Great American Novelist and where haven’t we seen that one before. Then there are two cops, one black for race jokes, one white female for the other jokes and love interest, such as it is. Love interest? With the doughnut maker? Add that up. James Vincent Meredith and Kate Buddeke handle those cop assignments with dispatch. Also there is the crazy Russian who wants to buy Arthur’s doughnut shop. Max (Yasen Peyankov in his own, inimitable accent) has a passion to build magnificence on this run down lot. The crazy lady? Got her, too. Jane Alderman plays her expected eccentricities as expected. Two thugs: Robert Maffia menaces a smidgen more than Cliff Chamberlain . Oh, yes, the nervy kid owes them gambling bucks and vigorish. Uh huh. And last but not least, Kiril, Max’s muscle. Michael Garvey plays him with surprising grace and humanity.
Director Tina Landau, who has demonstrated her gifts admirably in other productions, seems to have left no pot unboiled in her very “kitchen sink” handling of a show which apparently calls out for just that, except for Arthur’s spotlighted asides, his gentle talks to the audience about what’s bothering him. They do not disturb the familiar flow of author Letts’s little drama. The completely saccharine finish is either a wicked touch or exhaustion. This is “feel good” Tracy Letts, whose career as a playwright is built on acid and carborundum. Doesn’t make the medicine go down.
Music Box, 239 W. 45th Street. Tickets:$76.50-$116.50. Tue 7 pm, Wed-Sat 8 pm, Mats Wed,Sat 2 pm, Sun 3 pm. 212-239-6200.
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