That Sean Hayes transforms in the brand new play “Good Night, Oscar,” there isn’t any doubt. Whether the final result is a human being or a bag of tricks relies on your taste for ham.
One hour and 40 minutes with no intermission. On the Belasco Theatre, 111 W. forty fourth St.
In Doug Wright’s mostly unsatisfying dramedy, which opened Monday night on Broadway, the “Will & Grace” star takes on the role of Oscar Levant, the virtuoso piano player, “An American in Paris” actor and humorist who became popular — and controversial — through the early days of TV.
A wittier precursor to the likes of Harvey Pekar on “Late Night With David Letterman,” Levant, who died in 1972, would seem on “Tonight Starring Jack Paar” and make unpredictable cracks about schizophrenia, pills he took, Hitler and many other not family- or network-friendly topics before brilliantly tickling the ivories.
Latest York columnist Dorothy Kilgallen once said of Levant, “I feel he’s said more funny things than any man of our time.” That’s a daring statement to make a few fella who most individuals today don’t remember.
But Levant was, indeed, devilishly hilarious and whip smart. And so, Wright’s play is affected by so many punchlines they could possibly be the most important character’s first language.
What’s odd nevertheless is that, despite Levant’s insistence within the play that “I don’t write jokes prematurely, I’m extempore,” the zingers come across animatronic and limp as delivered by Hayes.
You expect to laugh so rather more than you do. The actor is, after all, a genius at delivering a shocking, pre-written one-liner seemingly out of thin air, as he proved on “Will & Grace.”
But, unlike Levant, hyped-up Jack wasn’t a personality burdened by facial tics that were the results of mental illness, booze and medicines, or a gravely voice that feels like a shock jock Richard Nixon impression.
Because the tortured Oscar, the actor appears to be checking off a mountainous to-do list of personality and body traits while keeping largely unaware of the opposite actors around him, likely due to all of the showy shtick he’s focused on.
Thus, the frayed-wire quality of Levant is just not conveyed. He’s Oscar the Grouch, OK, but reasonably harmless. Hayes is sporadically moving as details of Levant’s pain come to light, but we never meet this wicked firebrand we keep hearing a lot about.
And on today the funnyman must be especially on edge. Wright’s play imagines Jack Paar (Ben Rappaport) bringing the “Tonight” show to Burbank, California, in 1958 for a special event taping that may feature the reliably outrageous Levant.
But to get the piano player to the studio, his wife, June (Emily Bergl), must sneak him out of a psychiatric hospital under the ruse that he’s going to his daughter’s graduation ceremony.
June is an intriguing character in that she clearly cares about Oscar, but only a lot that she’ll risk his health and well-being to do a TV spot. Stoic Bergl and Hayes don’t have much chemistry, however the actress has her own unique “What’s in it for her?” draw.
One in every of Levant’s concerned doctors, Alvin Finney (Marchánt Davis), comes together with a briefcase stuffed with meds and there’s a celebrity-infatuated studio assistant Max Weinbaum (Alex Wyse), who buzzes across the green room. Eventually, we see Levant in motion with Paar, which infuriates NBC honcho Bob Sarnoff (Peter Grosz).
The antics all sound rather more madcap than they’re, when Wright’s play actually tends to waver between sad — sometimes poignantly so — and sleepy.
The one fireworks in director Lisa Peterson’s production go off through the climax.
Levant was a recent and friend of George Gershwin and have become higher known for taking part in Gershwin’s music than his own. His frustrating reliance on the then-dead “Porgy and Bess” composer — when he wanted his own compositions to shine — is brought up in awkward hallucination scenes with actor John Zdrojeski.
But near the tip, Levant gets behind the piano and plays Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” on NBC. Hayes, a gifted piano player himself, does this in full view of the audience — and from memory.
That thrilling moment — without mannerisms, words, other characters or exposition — is the one time Levant and “Good Night, Oscar” come to life.
