Boeing-Boeing at the Paper Mill Playhouse
The classic 1960 French farce Boeing-Boeing, written by Marc Camoletti and the most performed French play in the world, is playing through February 12 at the Paper Mill Playhouse, where it is rightly well-received. The play, which played on the West End for seven years and was revived twice on Broadway, follows an American-turned-Parisian architect whose blissful lifestyle depends on the timetables of the three major airlines. He’s got it all figured out, as he explains to his houseguest, an old college friend—polygamy. But polygamy on a schedule; that is to say, polygamy with three flight attendants, one of whom is always up, one of whom is always down, and one of whom is always pending.
Said playboy, Bernard (Matt Walton in this production, but famously played in the 1965 film by Tony Curtis), is simultaneously engaged to independent American hostess Gloria (Heather Parcells), possessive Italian Gabriella (Brynn O’Malley) and forceful and fiercely patriotic German Gretchen (Anne Horak). He juggles them constantly and throws their nationalities around like he’s referring to his car collection “My German/My Italian/My American.” Each day the menu and decorations change with the help of his overworked housekeeper Berthe (Beth Leavel), whose heavily French-accented catchphrase is “It isn’t easy, you know.” Things go perfectly smoothly, as Bernard is all too happy to show off to his Wisconsinite college buddy Robert (John Scherer). But as the schedule is torn to pieces by the four Rolls-Royce engines of the Super Boeing, which goes fast enough to land all three fiancés in his Paris apartment at once, Bernard, Berthe, and a reluctant Robert are forced to drive themselves crazy arranging it so that the wives-to-be never meet.
Boeing-Boeing is fast-paced, exciting, and hysterically funny. Robert is new to this world of immorality, as he constantly complains, comparing and contrasting his apparent new lifestyle to that of his Midwestern home, and the audience is drawn in, too, but in a different way—with interest. We legitimately want to see what happens. It’s not painful comedy like Curb Your Enthusiasm, where the spectator feels so uncomfortable with the main character’s problems that they’re tempted to cover their eyes and curl up in the fetal position. It’s more similar to the easygoing but still entertaining comedy of the Marx Brothers in A Night at the Opera or, especially, Room Service. We feel empathetic towards Robert and Bernard as their timetables fall to pieces, but not so much so that we wish it would end. In fact, we wish it would go on much, much longer.
The cast works so well together that they resemble a well-oiled machine. When one attendant walks out, another walks in, and the imperative for Bernard’s operation is that none enter a room at the same time. This makes for some odd strategies interpreted by the foreign air hostesses to be a symptom of Americanism, and for Gloria a symptom of the disease that is the unwelcome guest. Robert must immediately claim rooms occupied by competing fiancés, such as the room where Bernard and his current female companion usually sleep, or must cut in line for the bathroom when the American is taking a bath and the Italian wants one herself.
The comedy in some ways resembles slapstick. When Berthe first realizes that all three attendants are in the flat together, she screams and collapses, causing Bernard and Robert to collapse themselves into stress-induced tears. In this campaign even Robert is overworked, and it shows. While he’s trying to warn Bernard to leave for the country with the Italian before Bernard has realized their new problem, his face turns red and his hair flops wildly around as he jumps and makes what may seem to be ridiculous insistences. But at the end of it all, faces return to normal color, Berthe is happy with her new 30% raise (long story), and the two men relax on the couch and open a bottle of champagne each. They’re happy it’s over, but we’re happy we were there to enjoy the ride.
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