Review Preview: "The Owl and the Pussycat"

Little late on the post, but work comes first, right? Anyway, here's the short word on "The Owl and the Pussycat" at the Morris Museum's professional Bickford Theatre: pretty good production of a very well-written play.

Here's the long version, in draft:

If You Want to Go:
What: “The Owl and the Pussycat”
Where: The Bickford Theatre at the Morris Museum, 6 Normandy Heights Road, Morris Township
When: through Oct. 7
How much: $30, $28 seniors, $27 museum members; $15 students 18 and younger
Info: (973) 971-3706; www.bickfordtheatre.org

By William Westhoven
Staff Writer
Hollywood produced a colorful version of “The Owl and the Pussycat.” Eric Hafen, artistic director of the Bickford Theatre, prefers it in black and white.
You may agree with him after seeing his revival, which opened last week on the professional stage at the Morris Museum. Hafen’s version may lack the star power of the Hollywood edition — which starred Barbra Streisand near her commercial peak — but it authentically represents the writer’s vision, and returns the story to the intimacy of the stage, where it works best.
One admirable quality of Bill Manhoff’s comedy is that while he calls for interracial casting, his script is colorblind. Both the white man and the black woman in this two-act, two-character romp could have lineage to any race or ethnicity. “The Owl and the Pussycat” also is very funny, with plenty of emotion and conflict to keep things moving. And despite the setting—freewheeling San Francisco in the go-go 1960s, the story isn’t nearly as dated as the manual typewriters, rotary phones and other period touches in scenic designer Bill Motyka’s attractive apartment set.
Sporting neon-colored miniskirts, Nicole Powell is a brisk March wind as Doris, a typically unsuccessful actress-model who is forced to moonlight as a hooker. Her extracurricular activity catches the attention of another apartment dweller, Felix (Andrew Rein) an uptight, unsuccessful writer who reports to shenanigans to the super.
The story begins with Doris banging on Felix’s door. She’s there to give him a piece of her mind, which the ditzy Doris has little of to spare. Then decides to stay, mainly because she’s been evicted and has nowhere to go. It’s an atypically “cute” meeting of characters that strains credibility, but no more so than many Neil Simon comedies.
Naturally, with so little in common, the opposites attract and become a couple. Business as usual for Doris, who admits she frequently falls for guys who are “soft in the body and strong in the head.”
Felix decides Doris is an intellectual at heart, and just needs someone to save her from “circumstances prevent you from using your mind.”
“Your trapped intelligence called to me,” he claims, rationalizing his attraction to a woman who displays neither education nor common sense.
When his efforts fail, Felix lashes out and drives her away. If you saw the movie, you may think you know the ending, but you won’t find any Hollywood whitewashing at the Bickford. You’ll have to discover the story, in its original form, for yourself, but the opening-night crowd went home quite satisfied.
Both of these Equity professional actors have their limitations, but each has visible talents as well. Powell, on break from a featured role in the Broadway musical, “Hairspray,” beams a wide range of emotions from an expressive face. She easily slips into a wistful smile while watching a TV program one minute, then shrinks the next in the wake of stinging insults from Felix. It makes no sense for her to be attracted to Felix, a pasty, intellectual bully, but somehow, she makes you believe.
Powell struggles more as a comedienne, failing to capture the eccentric charm of her character. As a result, she sometimes is shrill when she should be silly, but Powell’s energy keeps you rooting for both her and her character. Sticking to the vision of the writer, and the director, she also never slips into racial stereotype or diction, which relegates the character’s color difference to a benign visual reminder of their emotional incompatibility.
Rein’s dour interpretation of Felix is a fine contrast to Powell’s bubbly manner. He’s as dry as the desert and as cold as the poles, so the audience really feels it when he loses his grip. Given the hateful (albeit never racial) tone of his insults, it’s hard at times to feel sympathy for the character, but Rein shows us enough vulnerability to make it work.
This first of five main-stage plays (up from the usual four) signals the note of a promising year at the Bickford, which now has a new entrance and lobby within the still-expanding Morris Museum. Hopefully, the momentum will carry the company to a prosperous new year.