When life feels hard, comedy can be a balm to the soul and even a force for change. That’s what Neil Simon’s 1993 play, Laughter on the 23rd Floor, now in a production at Theatre Knoxville Downtown, reminds us of. In an eerily-familiar era of media scrutiny and control, when the pressure of complicity with government mandates threatens the voices of writers and artists, humor just might be the last line of defense. Set in the office of a team of writers for the Max Prince comedy variety show circa 1953 at the height of the Red Scare and rampant McCarthyism, bad news has broken for the team: producer NBC has threatened to cut their run time and their budget, and they must prove that the work they do is valuable. Director David Ratliff feels that this play is “a love letter to the brilliant chaos of a writers’ room, but also a tribute to the courage it takes to keep writing, creating, and speaking the truth when those in power are determined to shut you down.”
The setting is cozy, lived and worked in, and reminiscent of a time when work felt meaningful; even though some of the writers come in to work late, they want to be there. The writer’s room has a sort of grubby and warm feeling, slightly cramped and worn and a bit chaotic, reflecting the attitudes and personalities of those who inhabit it. If it feels dated, it’s in a good way, a kind of space we seem to have lost where collaboration and care and passion for one’s work could thrive.
Lucas, played by Dekan Mueller, is the new kid on the block: a recent hire swept into the chaos of the writer’s room. Mueller’s comedic presence grows throughout the show from the shy but eager new hire into a beloved member of the Max Prince Show crew able to hold his own with the rest of the bunch. Milt, played by Drew Perkins, is a charming wise-guy, always ready with a joke up his sleeve—but who isn’t in this production? Val, played by Steve Trigg, is a stoic, no-nonsense Russian immigrant waxing poetic about the humor of the Russian intellectual elite—Dostoyevsky and the like. Brian, played by Heath Trentham, is the gruff, rough around the edges Irish immigrant with a bad smoking habit. Quick-witted and suave Kenny, played by Michael Ebling, is the breaker of the bad news forced to micromanage the tempestuous Max Prince. Everyone who donned an accent in this production did it well—not too heavy, not too light, but just enough for characterization and comedic effect.
Carol, played by Danielle Pressley, is the only woman writer of the group and fights for her own in the male-dominated field. Ira, played by Caleb Burnham, rounds out the writing staff at the Max Prince Show. Nobody knows what’s wrong with Ira. Whether he thinks he’s having a stroke or developing a brain tumor, he’s loud about it and lets everyone know in order to suffer with him. But he also feels cheated out of his own comedic contributions to the show, and has the best physical humor out of the whole cast. In one scene, they pin him down to a table, kicking and screaming because he literally tried to eat a joke. And Helen, played by Kelby Cox, is the poor unfortunate office manager with writing dreams of her own. In many ways she’s the glue that holds everyone together, managing their many machinations, whether chasing down a last-minute attire change or a pair of leather brogues tauntingly dropped from the 23rd floor.
Then we are introduced to Max Prince himself, played by Jeffrey Eberting. Max is a drug-fuelled force of chaotic good and misplaced hope for the rights of comedic freedom of expression in the heyday of Red Scare McCarthyism. He gets red in the face, winded, and confused, shifting from delivering inspired monologues about heroic historical figures to punching holes in the office walls and demanding that they be commemoratively framed in Tiffany silver. Eberting spends most of the play pants-less in a trench coat, playing up Prince’s hubristic passion delightfully well.
If Val says that “all humor is based on hostility,” then Laughter on the 23rd Floor demonstrates that acknowledging our differences and working together makes us better—that’s where the magic, and the comedy, happens. Whether American, Irish, Russian, Jewish, man or woman, this play is a reminder that teamwork makes the dream work. Laughter on the 23rd Floor runs until September 21st with showings on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 7:30pm and matinees on Sundays at 3pm. Tickets are available at Theatre Knoxville Downtown’s box office at 800 Central Street or online at https://theatreknoxville.com/laughter-on-the-23rd-floor/.
