It’s a little mystifying to recall that not too long ago, phones had the potential to be a source of considerably greater mystery. Remember when the only way to know who was calling you was to pick up? When agonizing waits and speculations could be triggered by a busy signal? When a long conversation kept you planted in one comfy chair for hours, instead of being easily packed up and taken along to the post office? No doubt most people feel their love lives have only improved with the developments of things like caller ID, call-waiting, and cordless (not to mention cellular) phones, but I for one look back with a bit of nostalgia. That’s why it’s particularly quaint when George (Hugh J. Barton) and Jennie (Valerie Tarantino), who have resisted being set up by his brother Leo (Paul Menezes) and her best friend Faye (Erica Thompson), meet via a case of mistaken telephone identity. Instantly charmed, George immediately calls Jennie back three times in quick succession. There’s no redial, remember, so he learns her number really fast.
These love-birds on the wire are the lead paramours of Neil Simon’s 1977 Chapter Two, a romantic comedy set in New York, produced by the Freeport Community Players under the direction of Barbara Buck. As the title suggests, it is the first go-round with love for neither lover. George (a writer) has been recently widowed after 12 years and Jennie (an actress) divorced after six. Though both claim to be unready to date, they take to each other “like greased lightning,” as Leo warily remarks when they announce that they’re to be married after a week of dating. As you might expect, things don’t end up being quite that blithe and easy.
As foils to each of them, and to their developing relationship, we have Leo and Faye, both miserable in their marriages. They’ve clearly set up George and Jennie not just out of love and concern, but as a way to sublimate their own frustrated desires. The plot developments that result aren’t exactly surprising, but they certainly are symmetrical.
Barton’s George covers the most ground, in the sense of character evolution, and it’s a pleasure to see him suddenly slip out of his initial ornery distraction to play boyish, grinning phone games with Jennie. His inevitable lapse from romantic bliss with her, likewise, is equally sudden and, in Barton’s hands, just as persuasive and affecting. It’s actually a huge relief to watch the two of them depart from sentimental mush and have it out with both hands; the best moments of the play come not during the sweet-nothings scenes, but when the lovers confront each other with raised voices. Tarantino, particularly, shines during one raw monologue, a declaration of both love, anger, and ’70s-tinged assertions of female self-esteem. Vibrant throughout the play (a character quality enhanced by Sam Hunneman’s bold costumes), she takes advantage of this scene to give Jennie an exhaustive and intimate depth that we haven’t fully seen before.
