Saturday I went to a revival of a 1993 one-person play called Family Secrets. My wife and I were going out with another couple, and this show caught her eye. Back then Ben Brantley raved about it in a New York Times review. So we went.It's still in previews, but I very much doubt my opinion would change if I saw it after it opens. It is simply the worst "comedy" I have ever seen. When 10 minutes went by before the first time I laughed, I decided to keep count. The result: I laughed all of seven times in the 90 minutes or so.
The play is about a Jewish family transplanted from the Bronx to California, back in the 80s. This was mentioned by at least a couple of the five characters portrayed. I don't know why--the locales seemed to make no difference to the characters. The characters, a couple of whom may have been cutting edge in the 80s, were already dated in 90s. Now, they just complete the set of stereotypes portrayed by actor/co-writer Sherry Glaser. Her rendition of Mort, the father, was the worst. The padding she wore to simulate his paunch looked like overgrown breasts. The voice she used wasn't masculine--at best it was non-feminine. Basically, it was just weird.
People started trickling out of the theater before the half-hour mark. I wish I had joined them.
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