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The jokes at other people’s expense in Smile Orange are not benign, even if they are benignly presented. Rhone’s flippancy about sexism, homophobia, and prejudice against the disabled might be considered, after more than 20 years of women’s liberation, post-Stonewall activism, and soul-searching about human relations, at the very least insensitive. But the fact that director Jaye Stewart didn’t address the hatred in the script is more than unfortunate; it robs Smile Orange of any righteousness it might have had.
The biggest player of all is Ringo (Victor Cole), a charming lout who works in the dining room as a waiter. Married with children, he is nonetheless a Romeo when it comes to tourist women, particularly white women. “If it weren’t for the children, I’d be through with her,” he says of his wife as he and his coworker Joe (Reginald Metcalf) revel in memories of Ringo’s conquests during the previous tourist season. Ringo’s irresistible, according to these tales, and his wife is a jerk for assuming she should have a slice of his pie. To protect Ringo from her, Joe tells the new assistant manager, O’Keefe (Stewart himself), that she’s a madwoman. This is supposed to be hilarious.
Robbed of moral ground, there’s not much to the play or this production other than a few moments of light comedy. Cole, Metcalf, and Wilson in particular have a wonderful presence and rapport. But unfortunately their charisma isn’t enough to redeem Smile Orange.
