Set in New York in 1968, Plaza Suite explores the reality that love, and relationships are always in stasis and are dependent on uneasy compromises. In three distinct acts, couples are forced to face temptation, the woes of children, and even their own twilight. No character ever truly says what they feel or want but at the end, the audience realises that some are more honest, if more erratic, than others. Plaza Suite is as much illuminating about the couples inside hotel rooms as it is ignorant of what goes on outside of them.
In Act One we are introduced to Karen and Sam Nash (Elizabeth MacGregor and Barry Nielsen) who epitomise the unhappy post-war couple. Karen books suite 719 for their 24th wedding anniversary because it was the site of their honeymoon. Arriving late, her husband not only corrects her while on the phone that 719 is not the room they consummated their marriage in, but they have been married for only 23, not 24 years. Besides the traditional hors d’œuvres and Sears catalogue, her attempt to bring back the spark felt in the mid-40s is unsuccessful.
The Act drags and takes up the full first half of the show in a deliberate attempt to showcase the inability of the couple to solve any of their problems. Sam masterfully distracts himself in every way possible to ignore his wife. He checks his teeth in the mirror for multiple minutes and brags about not having “a couple inches of far over my belt” in his old age. Karen insults him and picks fights just to get his attention. The dual room staging with a false door gave a striking distorted sense of privacy. Walking into the other room became a small and silent form of defiance while the audience knew they were staring at each other through the wall.
Playwright Neil Simon clearly took inspiration from his own parents when writing this Act, telling Lawrence Grobel in an interview that all his parents did was fight: “I think part of what made me a comedy writer is the blocking out of some of the really ugly, painful things in my childhood…” The elephant in the room, Sam’s affair with his secretary Jean McCormack (Romy Silver), eventually gets blurted out. While cliché as Karen points out, “everyone cheats with their secretary,” the lack of surprise feels deserved. Nothing Sam does in or out of wedlock, is out of turn. Act One ends with no resolution for Karen or divorce for Sam, just the chilling reality that there never usually is one.
Who knew a couple from the golf capital of New York State could be so unhappy?
The sense of tension captured in Act One dies a quick death in Act Two when Hollywood producer Jesse Kiplinger (Joseph Restubog) lures his now-married high school sweetheart Muriel Tate (Laura Wallace) to the Plaza Suite to ‘catch up’. Jesse, as a character, was impossible to root for, let alone emphasise with. The wide-leg pants and the odd mention of Sinatra are charming but the attempt to link Jesse to every Hollywood trope turns him into a satire of himself. Everything from his nickname being Gooch (after Gucci), to him mixing Muriel Vodka Stingers and telling her to give him a “New Jersey kiss,” is cringeworthy. Most distressing, perhaps, is that while he desires Muriel because she represents an innocent and uncorrupted part of his past, he never drops the act. Restubog’s performance is so uncomfortable because, unlike Sam who drops his guard, Jesse remains the character he plays in the tabloid magazines he brags about.
Why Muriel is there in the first place is also unclear. She fawns over his fame but there is never any reference to their past love besides that it existed. Unlike Act One, there never feels like she has a reason to stay in the room. Muriel constantly tells Jesse “I am a married woman” or “you have to let me go,” but neither line feels serious or like a genuine tease. The end brings no sexual climax but an awkward discussion in the bedroom. While never hitting its stride, the Act’s end is a powerful reminder that infidelity does not have to be spontaneous or passionate.
The show ends with a brilliant mix of verbal jousting and physical comedy when Norma Hubley (Andrea Blight) and Roy Hubley (Peter Gizariotis), an outspoken couple from Queens, have to convince their daughter to leave the suite bathroom for her wedding. In a vacuum, their constant yelling at each other would be taken as a sign of strain, however, after two acts of painful civility and coldness, the borderline abusive demeanour of Norma and Roy is ironically refreshing and symbolises an honesty which may be the closest thing the audience has seen to love all night.
After all attempts to coax Mimsy (Romy Silver) out of the bathroom fail, the parents turn to more desperate measures. The use of the set is expanded with Roy climbing in and out of windows and rushing in and out of the front door. The frantic breaking down of a once intimate space is brilliant because it acts as a broader metaphor for what children do to families. The expense of offspring is never lost on the audience with Roy quoting the cost of everything from potted plants to the band. He jokingly threatens to kill Mimsey and is not worried about the aftermath because “when they see the bill, no jury will convict.”
After many minutes and phone calls to the groom’s father trying to save face, Norma and Roy learn two harsh lessons most parents face at least once. First, they learn Mimsey is scared of marriage not because she doesn’t love her finance Bordon Eisler (Andrew Badger) but because she is scared of “ending up like us.” Second, they realise kids, in the most important moments, will never listen to their parents. It only takes two words from Bordon to get her out of the bathroom —“cool down.”
Plaza Suite captures the simultaneous continuity and change that exists in every hotel room. Three couples enter the pristine room with clean satin curtains and a fresh bottle of champagne only a call away as if no one else had been there except themselves on their honeymoon. The audience feels the stories imprint on the two-bedroom suite. No turn down service can strip or iron them away.
Plaza Suite is playing at the Genesian Theatre until March 2nd