Lise Bruneau, Susan Rome, Paul Morella. Photo: Stan Barouh
By DCist Contributor Abby Evans
Charles Busch’s The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife, playing at Theater J, is a glib, humorous show preoccupied with existentialism—a pastiche of beliefs espoused by Hermann Hesse, Nietzsche, Dostoyevsky, and almost every other philosopher you can name from that college seminar on nihilism. Marjorie Taub is our titular modern day (anti)-hero: an over-educated, over-privileged, bored allergist’s wife.
The show begins with Mohammed the doorman (Maboud Ebrahimzadeh) penning a story (the one that’s about to unfold). Kitschy but humorous supertitles flash above the stage, giving the impression that something of operatic proportions will ensue, but then Mohammed bestows a compliment upon himself and this self-aware take on a drawing room play begins in earnest.
Busch is well known for his commitment to camp (Psycho Beach Party; Die, Mommy, Die; Vampire Lesbians of Sodom) and Marjorie (Susan Rome), exuding sitcom-level drama, is the ultimate campy character. (Imagine an older Monica on Friends having an existentially bad day). Marjorie’s attempts to overcome ennui are limited to moping in her pajamas, burrowing under a blanket on her couch; unable to get comfortable, because she cannot find peace in her mundane, yet affluent existence. But then, there’s a knock on the door; and her long lost childhood friend, Lee Green (Lise Bruneau), serendipitously reenters her life.
Bruneau’s billowy, confident presence surges life into the play and into the ailing allergist’s wife. The play is similarly lifted whenever Mohammed enters a scene, though he sadly spends most of the play behind a podium just offstage, reacting to the drama in the apartment, as if he is both author of, and an observer to, the story.
Wife might have been more compelling as the ’90s period piece it was originally written as. The play originally premiered in 2000 at the Manhattan Theatre Club, and is chock-full of ’90s name drops. Busch has updated some of the cultural references every few years since its debut to keep the show contemporary (the allergist tweets!), but with varying degrees of success: there’s a scene where a name-dropping Green explains how she spent the day with Diana, but perhaps Kate Middleton would have been less anachronistically jarring.
Allergist’s Wife 2.0 is filled with moments like these, but pushing the metaphysical musings aside with more pressing questions: is Mel Gibson really somebody anyone wants to have lunch with anymore?
The Tale of the Allergist’s Wife runs at Theatre J until July 5th. Tickets are available online.
