‘Hilly Cohen’--a Life’s Sum Is Less Than All Its Parts

Hilly Cohen spent his life running a dry cleaning business, but what he really wanted to do was sing professionally. Before he was able to realize his dream, he died of a heart attack. Instead of following him through a life mixed with moderate successes and disappointments, Hugh Gross’ play, “Hilly Cohen and the Sounds of New York,” at the Los Angeles Theatre Center, checks in with Hilly (Murray Rubin) in a purgatorial living-room complete with wet bar and big screen video. Hilly liked the good things in life.

Some of those good things--cholesterol-inducing desserts, stress-inducing gambling--weren’t so good to him toward the end (as he’s reminded in the first of many video snippets that review his life). Yet, as his business manager, Cora, files in (Maxine Weldon), followed by his mother and father (Sidney Miller and Hanna King), Hilly begins to do an inventory on the people in his life. It’s also expected of him, as Sy, his old competitor and now a kind of emcee for God, reminds him (Morris Rossenfeld).

Of all things, Hilly bemusedly recalls how his name rhymed with Willy Loman, the beaten hero of “Death of a Salesman.” Hilly saw it on Broadway and says it changed him into a family man. We can imagine that happening, but it raises an unfortunate association for this play. “Salesman” delivered the same kind of life review, within the construct of a cathartic drama. “Hilly Cohen” never gets past the point of tallying up the ledger.

Hints of conflict sprinkle the landscape. The “inventory” unexpectedly and fitfully evolves into a trial, as Cora represents the defense and Hilly’s Uncle Mort, who got him his first job in the business, is the prosecution (Mort Sertner). His key evidence is a video confession by Hilly’s only mistress (Bernice Lurie, who speaks to the camera--a repeated stylistic nod to Woody Allen). In another video speech, Hilly’s son, Stuart (Marty Jannol), describes dad’s two warring selves. Hilly and his dad didn’t get along well.

All of this remains at the discussion stage, which would be fine if we were listening to Shaw. These are generally good people who move in a middle emotional range and speak rather pallidly. Hilly may say he feels guilty, he may bemoan his last dreams, but there’s never any doubt that he’s in God’s good graces. In other words, there’s nothing at stake in “Hilly Cohen,” and little more to prick our ears.

Not even those “Sounds of New York.” In fits of nostalgia, Hilly will launch into standards (“That’s All” or “Night and Day” or “Manhattan”), but never finish one. Weldon’s Cora joins him, but the renowned blues singer doesn’t add a dollop of color to these interludes.

They’re meant to add variety, like the video segments, but what they really do is break up the flow of the discussion (two needless intermissions break things down). The large screen images never become the metaphysical communiques with Earth that Gross intended.

Gross also directed and the cast suffers from the lack of a firm hand. These are solid, professional character actors on parade, and even with some flubbed lines, they maintain a theatrical sense. But what are character actors to do without real characters? Playing phantom nice people in heaven is hardly an assignment. John Weygandt’s set, combining a black box look with cushy upper-middle-class furniture, is as intriguing as this production gets.

Performances are at 514 S. Spring St. on Thursdays through Sundays, 8 p.m., Saturdays and Sundays, 2 p.m. Tickets: $22-$25; (213) 627-5599.