Obie-winning director Bensussen’s production deploys a simple set of movable panels by Judy Gailen on which are projected deliberately blurry, anticipatory images — and behind which MacDonald can be glimpsed in silhouette (and eventually in triplicate) wriggling into her wigs and disguises as she transforms into the play’s various personae. David Remedios contributes a slinky sound design, and Arthur Oliver’s costumes, from Rhonda’s conservative trench to Lynette’s short-skirted cacophony of leopard and purple, help define the characters (some of whom are more credible than others).
But gifted comedian MacDonald could probably play this thing in a bag, broadly limning Hewett’s caricatures without losing sympathy — especially for unintended adventurer Rhonda, who’s pushed into a blip of the fury Hell hath none like. As the goading, rationalizing brunette, the actress is at her comedic best, going after her onyx tresses with hands that must be trying to keep up with her mouth. And as for her near-unrecognizable turn as a wide-legged, beer-toting, insensitive guy: next up, a little something by Eric Bogosian?
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