A Review by Barbara Mehlman and Geri Manus.
It has been said that England and America are two countries separated by a common language. The same could be said for our senses of humor (or humour) as well. Though the British are known for their dry wit, they are also known for outrageous slapstick -- John Cleese and his Pythonites come immediately to mind. And Americans love it all.
Given our passion for most things British, one would think that their latest comic export, "Boeing Boeing," would be an in-flight hit, especially since it stars the most wonderful American comedian, Christine Baranski, the dry-wit American man of TV's "West Wing," Bradley Whitford, and the best American slapstick comedian, Mark Rylance. But from the first scene on, it
is painfully clear that "Boeing Boeing" has crash-landed instead.
The curtain is up when the audience arrives at the theater, and Ron Howell's gorgeous set of a high-ceilinged Parisian apartment with seven doors seems to have such promise -- just the thought of a new French farce is enough to make one's imagination launch into flights of dreamy fancy. But alas, the fun is not merely delayed, it is cancelled.
In brief, "Boeing Boeing" is about Bernard, a commitment-phobic man who is "engaged" to three beautiful stewardesses at the same time, and all he has to do to make this charade work is ensure they never meet. Easy, Bernard explains. His strategy is to woo women who fly for different airlines and have different flight schedules. And the much put-upon maid, wasting the
talents of Baranski, coordinates it all.
When Bernard's long-lost friend, Robert, arrives unexpectedly after 18 years and nine months (according to Robert), explaining he's lonely and would love to marry, Bernard invites him to move in and lets him in on the little scheme. For awhile, all goes well, Robert is ecstatic at meeting these beautiful birds, and then...
This is where all the turbulence begins. One stew's flight is turned back because of weather, another arrives earlier than planned, and a third is already ensconced in Bernard's apartment. There is chaos, lots of screaming, rolling on the floor, and door slamming, but only Rylance's physical comedy gets the laughs.
Now, as professional reviewers, we all in the trade try hard to avoid scatological adjectives and pedestrian clichés when discussing a play, but sadly, in this case, it is necessary to succumb to vulgar truth-telling so that you may be fairly forewarned: "Boeing Boeing" is stupid stupid. Not even an air traffic controller can save it.
Avoid "Boeing Boeing" which, it is hoped, will be going going away soon.
Barbara Mehlman & Geri Manus
