A little more than a decade ago, when we first saw Marie
Jones’ best known and multiple award-winning work, Stones in His Pockets, in its London debut, we realized that we had
come upon a remarkably talented playwright with an exceptional gift for
dialogue. And so it was that we eagerly
anticipated seeing her latest work, Fly
Me to the Moon, in its New York premiere as part of 1st Irish at 59E59
Theaters.
Well, we’ve seen it and the good news is that Fly Me to the Moon does confirm Ms
Jones’ considerable talent. The play is
well constructed and sharply written.
And there is more good news: the two actors, Tara Lynne O’Neill (as
Loretta Mackey) and Katie Tumelty as (Frances Shields) are supremely talented
in their own rights, both delivering wonderful comedic performances as two care
workers looking after Davy, a wheelchair-bound octogenarian , unable to speak
and paralyzed on one side as the result of a stroke. And the bottom line (of the good news, that
is) is that the play does provide one with an hour and forty minutes’ worth of
genial entertainment.
But, sadly, there is some bad news too: this play is not anywhere
near as good as Stones in His Pockets. The plot of Fly Me to the Moon is little more than a minor variation on a
hackneyed Grade B movie theme. Davy,
whose only real passions were Frank Sinatra and playing the horses, dies as the
play begins (we never actually do get to meet him) and Loretta and Frances are
presented with an opportunity to steal his racetrack winnings and last pension
check. Loretta and Frances are basically
decent women but they live hardscrabble minimum wage lives and they succumb to
temptation. Who, after all, will be hurt
and who is to know? Certainly not Davy –
he’s dead. His bookmaker – who cares
about him? And the Government – don’t
make me laugh. But as plots of this sort
always do, one thing leads (or rather descends) to another and Loretta and
Frances find themselves sliding down a slippery slope toward self-destruction.
Here’s where I’d normally be issuing a “spoiler alert,”
before saying much more about the play’s plot – if there was much more to
say. But there isn’t and there’s the
rub: the play’s resolution involves some half-hearted attempts to come up with
some creative O’Henry-ish twists but to no avail. There are no truly unanticipated surprises
and so the real bottom line is that despite some clever dialogue,
excellent acting, and amusing moments, the play turns out to be a
disappointment. Or maybe, having seen Stones in His Pockets, my expectations for Fly Me to the Moon were simply too high.
You're missing the entire social context of the play, which is that it takes place in Belfast.
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