STAGE REVIEW : ‘REAL THING’ LACKS REAL EMOTIONS

The play opens with an architect and his wife arguing about the wife’s supposed infidelities. Of course, since Tom Stoppard plays are usually not what they initially appear to be, it shouldn’t surprise anyone to discover a few twists. One is that this play within a play is about a playwright who has cast his own unfaithful wife as the unfaithful wife.

Not that this is what “The Real Thing” is really about either.

This Tony Award-winning play uses the same verbal sleight of hand as Stoppard’s previous Tony Award-winning plays, “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead” and “Travesties.” The difference is that, at the heart of “The Real Thing” is an exploration of the trickiest subject that Stoppard has yet explored: married love.

Stoppard has never written a more ambitious and interesting play--or a patchier one. The fancy footwork of a dynamic, swiftly paced production might cover some of the emotional holes. But that is a service that the competent, though decidedly undazzling, show playing through Nov. 14 at the Gaslamp Quarter Theatre Company does not provide.

It’s a draw between the pleasures of hearing the clever delivery of well-honed lines and the agony of interminable scene changes that make 2 1/2 hours seem like a marathon.

While there are triangles aplenty here, the one at the center of the story concerns Henry, the playwright, who is pursuing the wife of the actor in his play, putting the actor in the unwitting position of living the part he is playing.

Naturally, the tables do turn for Henry at some point, as they do for Henry’s wife, Charlotte. The only one who emerges unscathed is the actor’s wife, Annie, who is remarkably adept at talking a good game of love while breaking hearts, all without a diminution in anyone’s affections for her.

Being asked to believe that Annie is not only a suitable, but desirable, love object feels like being pushed from behind to the tip of an abyss and asked to admire the view. Annie is the playwright’s emotional blind spot.

Unfortunately, director Will Simpson fails to bring out the emotional depths of the other characters as well. The skillful repartee is there, but the pain that should underline the jokes moves in and out of focus when it should be present as a constant cutting edge.

Within these limitations, many of the individual performances shine. Paul L. Nolan delivers a highly intelligent and charmingly self-deprecating reading of Henry. Donna Walker does well by Annie, rendering her more likably clever than she deserves.

Although the other characters are more sympathetic than Annie, Stoppard does not draw any of them with the care he devotes to his playwright. Thus while D.B. Novak and D’Ann Paton deliver fine scenes as the actor, Max, and Charlotte respectively, it becomes a challenging exercise to find centers to their parts--a contest neither gets the better of.

As Billy, Annie’s other man, John McAdams paints a convincing portrait of adolescent fervor. Steve Gubin brings an appropriately rough, self-righteous force to the agitator, Brodie.

Susanna Thompson is far too emotionally mature as Henry and Charlotte’s rebellious, earthy teen-age daughter, Debbie. Cute though she looks in a punk hairdo and brief leather skirt, she cannot stop an adult refinement from emanating through her funky clothes.

John Hauser does a nice job with the sound and Matthew Cubitto creates some lovely lighting effects, designing intimate aureoles around the actors as the scenes fade out.

The costumes by the usually excellent Dianne Holly are disappointingly drab. More critically, Robert Earl’s sets seem to approach the challenges of several alternating sets in the spirit of getting the job done rather than getting the job done memorably. In the absence of any aesthetic payoff for patience, the pauses between scenes seem to increase until, by the second act, time itself gives the sensation of standing still.

It’s too bad, because there are a lot of beautifully crafted lines about love and art that are well worth waiting for. There may not be much life in this party, but the guests are fascinating and their remarks, like exceptionally fine party favors, are valuable enough to be taken home and stored in the treasure chest.

“THE REAL THING” By Tom Stoppard. Director is Will Simpson. Settings by Robert Earl. Lighting by Matthew Cubitto. Sound by John Hauser. Costumes by Dianne Holly. Stage manager is Cynthia M. Fraley. With D.B. Novak, D’Ann Paton, Paul L. Nolan, Donna Walker, John McAdams, Susanna Thompson and Steve Gubin. At 8 p.m. Wednesday-Saturday with Sunday matinees at 2 p.m. through Nov. 14. At the Gaslamp Quarter Theatre Company, 444 4th Ave., San Diego.