What’s Not to Love About ‘Last of the Red Hot Lovers?’ Redux

By Britin Haller

Some men buy a sports car when they hit middle age. Others take up golf, have a hair transplant, or start talking about finding themselves. But Barney Cashman, the hero of Neil Simon’s Last of the Red Hot Lovers from Curtain Call Playhouse, has a much different plan. This happily married father of three wants to have an affair.

Unfortunately for him, Barney has zero game, is out of shape, reeks of sardines from every pore from working in his seafood restaurant, and is using his mother’s dated Murray Hill apartment as his seduction pied-à-terre since nothing says ‘irresistible lover’ quite like sneaking around in Mom’s living room all the while still wearing your wedding ring.

How he manages to get three women there in the first place is a mystery, but somehow he does.

Barney is a respectable fellow who has spent his life doing what he’s supposed to do: serving his country, going into his father’s business, and creating a family, but now that the sexual revolution is happening all around him, he suspects he’s missed the party. Barney is not entirely sure he wants to attend, either, but he would at least like to see what everyone is talking about.

That contradiction fuels the great Neil Simon’s comedy, a three-part examination of lust, guilt, aging, and the terror of discovering that your life now may be as good as it’s ever going to get. Curtain Call Playhouse produced this play in 1996 during its first season, and now, thirty years later, has staged a clever revival that proves some classics never go out of style.

The acts unfold in December 1969, August 1970, and September 1970, which is useful to know because Barney’s grand romantic rebellion is not in one disastrous afternoon. He keeps returning to the scene of the crime, apparently convinced that the next attempt will go more smoothly. And when that doesn’t happen, poor Barney becomes increasingly frustrated, resulting in an impressive number of opportunities to regret opening his mouth.

The actor portraying Barney must be a strong anchor as the character is onstage constantly through a trio of substantial encounters, each requiring a different balance of emotions. Fortunately for us, Michael Schenker couldn’t be more perfect. We absolutely loved Schenker in a scene in last season’s California Suite with Curtain Call Playhouse artistic director and founder Kris Coffelt, and he proves here that he’s more than capable of carrying an entire show.

Barney’s first attempted conquest is Elaine Navazio, a sexually experienced, cigarette-smoking woman who has little patience for Barney’s fumbling attempts at conversation. She knows why she’s there and is more than ready to get down to business, but Barney is nervous and would prefer to discuss the weather, his conscience, and the restaurant business before getting around to anything scandalous.

Their encounter establishes the central joke: Barney wants the fantasy of being a player without having the necessary skills or shedding his deeply ingrained decency, and Elaine exposes the distance between Barney’s wild imagination and the messy reality of an extramarital encounter. One wonders what would have happened if Elaine had been the third woman instead of the first though.

Leslie Kandel, as Elaine, is brash, blunt, and gloriously unimpressed by Barney’s wishy-washiness, and she lets him know through a relentless series of sharp retorts. It’s a wonder Barney has any balls left at all when Elaine gets through with him. Similar to the unfunny hard-nosed character Kandel played in last year’s California Suite, this time she gets great lines at least, which she pulls off with a fabulous rat-a-tat style.

Next comes Bobbie Michele, a younger aspiring actress whose sunny, scattered dialogue makes Elaine seem positively methodical. Barney, who hoped his second attempt to have an affair would be easier than the gonad-busting Elaine, discovers that getting a woman into an apartment and connecting with her are two entirely different accomplishments. Elaine was all confrontational candor, but Bobbie is dizzying unpredictability with outlandish stories, conspiracy theories, and a personal history that makes Barney wonder if she’s even playing with a full deck.

As Bobbie, Stephanie Manner has to walk a fine line between giving the character some recognizable humanity and becoming a caricature of a ditzy young pot-smoking actress, and she pulls it off, giving us adorable chemistry with Schenker.

Played by Lisa Kerr, the third woman is Jeanette Fisher, who is married to Barney’s best friend and is also close friends with Barney’s wife, Thelma. And if that sounds like a spectacularly bad idea, you have a better grasp of the situation than Barney does. Jeanette arrives not showing a lick of skin, refusing to let go of her pocketbook, and carrying a substantial amount of depression and despair, and suddenly what began as a man’s awkward quest for illicit excitement becomes a more serious examination of unhappiness, decency, and the damage people do while trying to feel alive.

The Jeanette sequence demands more than a quick delivery and a reliable punch line. Simon’s jokes remain, but they are threaded through a conversation about how difficult it can be to recognize goodness, especially when it is sitting right in front of you. Kerr, who wowed us as an outspoken barfly recently in ArtBuzz Theatric’s Southern Baptist Sissies, is much more subdued here, but the underlying pain is the same.

Gary Solomons, artistic director and co-founder of the Bridge Across the Pond Theater Company, directed this production, and designed its lighting and sound. His ‘60s music selections like “These Boots are Made for Walking” and Dionne Warwick’s “What the World Needs Now” add to the overall ambiance. Solomons’ choices prove once again his keen eye and instinct for managing onstage relationship intricacies.

For a man determined to throw caution, marital fidelity, and presumably several decades of good behavior to the wind, Barney Cashman has chosen a remarkably mundane setting for his big adventure. Jack Coffelt’s set, dressed by Kris Coffelt, gives us a neat, modest Manhattan apartment that looks better suited to an afternoon mahjong game than an illicit rendezvous. While Barney may have worked up the nerve to arrange an affair, nothing about this place announces seduction. We expect, and even hope, to see Mom walk through that door at any moment.

A running joke about Barney’s clothing pays off in Act III while Bobbie’s yellow flower-power dress, with orange accessories and white boots, accentuates her charms.

Directed by Robert Moore, Last of the Red Hot Lovers opened at Broadway’s Eugene O’Neill Theatre on December 28, 1969, and ran for 706 performances. The original company included James Coco, Linda Lavin, Marcia Rodd, and Doris Roberts and received four Tony nominations, including Best Play, Best Actor, Best Featured Actress for Lavin, and Best Direction. Then Hollywood came calling, as it often did for Simon, with a 1972 film adaptation featuring Alan Arkin, Sally Kellerman, Paula Prentiss, and Renée Taylor.

Surprisingly enough, this is one Neil Simon work that doesn’t feel like a nostalgic period piece because although the sexual revolution is no longer breaking news, its central question remains relevant: Why does a man who has built a decent life for himself suddenly believe that being ordinary means being forgettable?

That is why Last of the Red Hot Lovers still works more than half a century after its premiere. Barney may be the world’s least convincing Casanova, but his underlying fear is familiar. He looks at the life he has and wonders about the one he never lived. Simon lets us laugh at his methods while recognizing the ache behind them. As midlife crises go, it is cheaper than a convertible, though considerably harder on the nerves.

In the end, Last of the Red Hot Lovers is a lovely little story of what happens when everyman Barney Cashman sets out to become a red hot lover and discovers all he really needs is a better understanding of the man already standing in his shoes.

And thankfully for all of us, he gets that.

From the Department of Unacceptable Gripes: Despite a pre-show announcement, two different cell phones went off during the opening night performance. If the actors could hear the ringing onstage they didn’t let on, but the audience around the offenders definitely could, and caused us to miss several lines of dialogue both times. Grrrr.

 Last of the Red Hot Lovers from Curtain Call Playhouse runs through November 15 at the Willow Theatre at the Sugar Sand Park Community Center, 300 S. Military Trail, Boca Raton; 7 p.m. Friday and Saturday; 1 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Running time approx. 135 minutes includes two 10-minute intermissions. Tickets $25, or $23 for a group of four or more. Call the box office at 561-347-3948 or visit curtaincallplayhouse.com.

Last of the Red Hot Lovers from Curtain Call Playhouse also runs November 21 & 22 at The Charlotte Burrie Civic Center, 2669 N. Federal Hwy, Pompano Beach; 7 p.m. Saturday; 2 p.m. Sunday. Running time approx. 135 minutes includes two 10-minute intermissions. Tickets $20. Call the box office at 954-786-5566 or visit curtaincallplayhouse.com.

Britin Haller is a journalist, editor, and author who serves on the board of directors for the Mystery Writers of America Florida Chapter. As a celebrity wrangler, Brit regularly rubbed elbows with movie, sports, and rock stars, and as a media escort, she toured with NY Times bestselling authors. After appearing in local musicals and all-state choir, Britin studied theater at Indiana University (a Big 10 college) and the University of Evansville (Rami Malek’s alma mater).