MOSTLY SUNNY IN CENTRAL PARK : OLD AGE LOSES ITS BITE IN ‘I’M NOT RAPPAPORT’

Tony Walton’s set for “I’m Not Rappaport” depicts Central Park in mid-autumn. When the lights dim--Pat Collins did the lights--you feel the beauty and the danger of the park. But when the lights are up, you can see that the leaves have been wired to the trees.

It’s the same with “I’m Not Rappaport.” Now and then true, mostly fake. Pleasantly so. Who wants to see a play about two real 81-year-old men on a park bench? Who wants to write a play about them? Certainly not Herb Gardner.

Better to make them “nice and cute”--as one of them, Judd Hirsch, accuses his married daughter, Cheryl Giannini, of wanting old people to be. It’s a scene where both father and daughter have every right to be furious with each other.

They spar a little, but end up chuckling. “Why are we laughing?” says the daughter. “Because it’s funny,” says the father.

Maybe. And maybe Gardner doesn’t want to get in too deep. As in sitcom, the play keeps walking up to the line, making a clever observation and backing off.

Sitcom sells, of course--audiences don’t want to get in too deep, either. “I’m Not Rappaport” has been running for three years, first at the Seattle Repertory Theatre, then on Broadway. We have the Broadway stars, Hirsch and Cleavon Little, and they manage their old-codger shtick amusingly, without putting us in any fear that when they fall down, they might actually break something.

Hirsch is the old radical who is still shaking his fist at the Establishment (without, however, mentioning any living politician by name). His fist is increasingly shaky, though, and when a leaf lands on his lapel, it takes him two passes to get rid of it.

Little is the old janitor who is still shaking his head at the circumlocutions of the power structure. Instead of firing you, they “have to let you go”--and you’re supposed to be sorry for them! Where Hirsch gives us an old body, Little gives us an old head, hip and amused.

The show’s running gag is that Little in no way wants to get mixed up with Hirsch, but keeps being sucked in by his tall stories, a couple of which suck us in too. The subplots involve Hirsch’s daughter (who talks pure sitcom) and the guy who wants to fire Little (Richmond Hoxie).

There’s also some random violence, this being Central Park (Kevin M. Moccia, Catherine Christianson and Tom Stechschulte are the actors involved here). Another director might make more of the play’s dark aspect, but Daniel Sullivan keeps it from interfering with the evening’s chief purpose, which is to be “heartwarming and hilarious.”

The opening-nighters at the Fonda seemed to find it just that, but there were some complaints in the balcony about not being able to understand the dialogue. The actors were miked, and there was an annoying overlap between their real voices and their amplified ones. For a $37.50 top ticket, audiences deserve clear sound.

‘I’M NOT RAPPAPORT’ Herb Gardner’s comedy, at the Henry Fonda Theatre. Director Daniel Sullivan. Setting Tony Walton. Costumes Robert Morgan. Lighting Pat Collins. Fight staging B. H. Barry. Produced by James Walsh, Lewis Allen, Martin Heinfling. With Judd Hirsch, Cleavon Little, Richmond Hoxie, Tom Stechschulte, Catherine Christianson, Kevin M. Moccia, Cheryl Giannini. Plays Tuesdays-Saturdays at 8 p.m., Sundays at 7:30 p.m., with Saturday-Sunday matinees at 2 p.m. Tickets $28.50-$37.50. 6126 Hollywood Blvd. (213) 410-1062.