The House of Blue Leaves

I’ve only been doing this for a few months, but I still find it interesting (and telling) that for the first time yet, I completely barreled past a show I had seen and totally forgot to write about it. It was like it hadn’t even happened. So, sure, there are lots of forgettable shows, but how many disappear within days? And of those, how many involve nuns climbing through windows, a deaf actress exploding, and a soldier disguising himself as an altar boy to attempt to kill the pope?

The House of Blue Leaves shouldn’t slip from the mind as easily as the current production does. It’s a wild farce imbued with incredible sadness, and though it’s 40 years old, it’s as timely as ever in its consideration of how people long for fame as a way to legitimize themselves when really, they might not actually be that talented or special.

But as played by Ben Stiller and Jennifer Jason Leigh, two-thirds of the main characters in the show go out with more of a whimper than a shout. Edie Falco is predictably fantastic as sullen crazy lady Bananas, but as her husband Artie, Stiller is kind of just a sad sack who lacks the kinetic energy that would make you believe he was really that determined to make it as a songwriter. And Jennifer Jason Leigh is just no good at comedy. I happen to think she’s a pretty bad actress who occasionally trundles into the perfect part. The movie Georgia, for example. Or Single White Female. As Sally Bowles in Cabaret back in ’99, she gave one of the worst musical performances I have ever seen. And as Bunny Flingus in this show, she’s shrill and shouty without ever seeming as funny OR as pathetic as she should. How do you make a woman named Bunny Flingus NOT funny??

When I started this blog, I expected that I’d derive more joy from writing about the bad shows than about the good. It certainly seems easier to enumerate the ways in which something fails than try to distinguish what makes a wonderful show gel. But writing about this one right now, I just feel kind of bummed about it. It’s a great play. It’s just such a flat production. Things come temporarily to life when three nuns climb off the roof into Artie’s apartment to watch the Pope on TV; the exploding actress is a pretty great gag; and Christopher Abbott is weirdly charming as Bananas and Artie’s son Ronnie (“weirdly charming” might just mean adorable), but all in all, it’s a flat evening punctuated by flashes of brilliance from the indomitable Edie Falco who should probably star in everything ever.