THE WINGS OF MOONY FISHBEIN
Clearly Chicago playwright Ron Mark has been strongly–if not unduly–influenced by domestic heart-warmers like Neil Simon’s Brighton Beach Memoirs and Clifford Odets’s Awake and Sing. In Wings, Mark tries to pour into one very crisis-ridden Fourth of July weekend all the hopes and fears of an embattled west-side Jewish family. To do this, he contrives to unleash more slam-bang catastrophes than any play has a right to. The result is that the sentimental characters are barely developed. The hard-working actors in this inaugural Webster Circle Theater production are seldom asked to do more than weep, scream, or get all soft inside–all of which happens a lot too easily to be real.
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Certainly no one can accuse Mark of avoiding conflict. Before our two hours are up, we witness several overwrought screamfests and knock-down squabbles: between Moony and Ben, between Nellie and Sophie, between Moony and Roxie, Joey and Hobby, Joey and Billie, Nellie and Ben, Joey and Ben, Hobby’s father and Ben, and Hobby and his inner demons. This show should have rounds, not acts.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Evette Cardona.
