Sir Alan Ayckbourn – he was knighted for his contribution to British theater –has brought his 75th play to our shores for its world premiere and the pleasure is all mine. Well, mine and a thunder of theatergoers who have come to see anything Ayckbourn, long hooked on his gentle skewering of British societies in his ongoing, long parade of keenly observed plays. Comedies they are, bloody comedies. You smile and smile, giggle, chuckle, titter, grunt from one moment to the next through tales of woe, knowing from the outset that there is going to be that moment when you flinch in pain then belly laugh immediately thereafter. That’s Ayckbourn.
Mild, bespectacled Martin (Matthew Cottle) and his older sister Hilda (Alexandra Mathie) have lived quiet, uneventful, possibly happy lives together for more than forty years until their great, dramatic move to Number 3, Bluebell Hill development. They overcome their shyness and reach out to their neighbors as a kind of Welcome Wagon in reverse. They love the green walls Hilda has had painted in their living room, which, fortunately, we are left to imagine. Martin adores his huge back lawn out the sliding glass doors with its far end wall so that he can see way down to the red brick development miles away. Or rather, perhaps a quarter mile away. And Monty and Jesus have already established their domains in the garden; Monty is Mr. Montmorency, so named by Martin age 5, a well worn ceramic garden gnome. And Jesus? Jesus is Jesus. Plastic, about a foot and a half high. Not as old as Monty but millenia older if you take my meaning. That is, of course, since we don’t really know how many thousands of years gnomes have been among us, do we. But there they are. Happy. Martin and Hilda are smugly mad and very pleased with themselves.
And the neighbors arrive. There’s Dorothy (Eileen Battye), who knows everything about everybody. She worked for 15 years on the local paper. Small ads. But you sniff out scads more than you ever get to print. And Rod (Terence Booth). He’s sixties, same as Dorothy, most of it spent in martial arts glories, eminently suspicious of the low types, criminals no doubt, that inhabit that red brick settlement down below and the dangers they pose to Blueberry Hill. Then there’s Gareth (Richard Derrington) meek and mild, who cries easily especially when his wife Amy (Frances Grey) is mentioned. When we meet Amy we can appreciate his tears. She’s hot, hot, hot, a generation younger than her whimpering wimp, and she instantly finds Martin a pushover for her ample, well displayed charms. He’s male, even if he’s devoutly Christian. She can handle that. Instant hate from Hilda. Very un-Christian but what can you do?
What they can do is, bit by bit, cobble together a neighborhood watch for their own protection, and making Martin their chairman and leader is a group decision. Hilda is rigid with pride, abetting every inch of the way for her adored Martin, determined to protect him from that slut from hell, Amy. Who is really rather busy at the moment with Luther (Phil Cheadle), a comely brute next door, husband to dear, innocent, childlike Magda (Amy Loughton), impassioned music teacher: clarinet, oboe, English cornet. Everybody but Luther joins the neighborhood watch. He has other ideas. Only to meet the sweet stone wall that is Martin, not only a devout Christian but a superdevout pacifist. Quite a match for Luther’s fists. Not! Just tremble at the zeal with which Martin leads his neighborhood watch. Soon, iron mesh fences with barbed wire atop. A guarded gate house. Night patrols. With baseball bats. And identity cards. Martin’s endless, innocent enthusiasm burgeons with an absolute righteous fervor. Hilda is beside herself with joy. Except for the hideous fact of that Amy.
Playwright Ayckbourn makes all of the foibles of his characters work with accomplished ease. And, as director, he knows his playwright so well he bypasses the all but inevitable trap of being too kind to himself. This play is shaped, honed, the production brought here from Scarborough, England, his theatrical home and workshop for thirty-five years. He amuses and lacerates. You laugh and you learn about his characters but also about yourself. He’s not afraid of tipping his ending at the beginning – but not all , not all. I much admired his accomplished cast, particularly Matthew Cottle as Martin, Frances Grey as Amy and Richard Derrington as Gareth. (Derrington’s fiendish little character touches, band aids on fingers multiplying as he builds his weapons of punishment, is a detail too delicious to miss). Ayckbourn peppers his production with sly, homely niceties, then whomps you. Love it. Watch out for the ending.
59 E 59 Theaters, 59 E. 59th Street. Tickets: $65 ($45 for members.) Tue-Thu 7 pm, Fri, Sat 8 pm, Sun 7 pm. Mats, Sat 2 pm, Sun 3 pm. 212-279-4200 or 59e59.org. No perf Dec 25.