Theater District

Even if there weren’t a bio in the program, you’d quickly surmise that Richard Kramer is accustomed to penning episodic TV shows, albeit quality stuff such as thirtysomething, Tales of the City, and My So-Called Life. Kicking off with a burst of character-delineating chatter, Theater District — Kramer’s first play — wraps up neatly in less than 80 minutes, sans intermission or commercials and with a pointed parting message. It’s not the sermonette that’s problematic but, rather, the warp-speed windup; Kramer has only just begun to plumb the depths of these appealing characters and, drat, we can’t tune in next week to find out more.

As SpeakEasy Stage Company show begins, we meet actor-turned-restaurateur George Bridge (former NYPD Blue star Bill Brochtrup) and his domestic partner, gay-rights lawyer Kenny Bowman (the manly, tight-lipped Liam Torres) as they natter comfortably. “What’s that song with ‘thing’ in it?” asks Kenny, reminiscent of a certain Martha but without the drunken bray. “George, come on. You know the song. You always know the song.”

George knows everything, not just the elusive title (“Crazy Little Thing Called Love” — how apt!) but also where to find a clean replacement power tie, the remarkable fact that Winston Churchill and Gwen Verdon share a birthday, and, most important, how to relate to Kenny’s 15-year-old son, Wesley (Edward Tournier in a very relaxed peformance). The boy moved in with the pair four months ago to get better acquainted with his dad — but this goal is not so easily accomplished, given that Kenny isn’t very long out of the closet and, despite his public good works, remains pretty tightly buttoned-up. Indeed, when Wesley poses a seemingly straightforward question as to whether or not his dad considers homosexuality a choice, Kenny’s answer reveals his residual discomfort. The impact of his reply on George and Wesley impels the play’s forward motion, sounding an insistent note of pathos amid the general hilarity.

Much of Theater District is laugh-out-loud funny, especially the segments featuring Mario (Neil A. Casey), George’s bitchy buddy, a maitre d’ who laments the good old days of Times Square and the eating habits of the rich and fussy. When not kvetching, Mario provides touching background on George and his transformation into a family man. (Director Wes Savick cleverly has these mini-monologues delivered into a camera and rear-projected on stage.) Casey also plays a hospital orderly with whom George had a one-night stand back in the freewheeling 1980s; the memory is indelible for the orderly because of George’s unusual video selection that evening, The Nun’s Story.

Allusions to that classic film are threaded throughout the play, and with good reason: Like the Belgian nun played by Audrey Hepburn, George is clearly a giver-till-it-hurts. But, ultimately, he’s no martyr. He loves by paying attention and is himself immensely lovable — not to mention trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, and kind. Thus, a veiled accusation floated by Lola, Wesley’s mother (Melinda Lopez, great at playing brittle New York editor), comes out of the blue. Perhaps Kramer’s point is that, however hip and liberal Lola may profess to be, she suffers from the same kind of prejudice she claims to condemn. Still, this is the one truly clumsy move in a well-conceived and tightly constructed play; mom’s remark seems as anachronistic as a moment from The Children’s Hour.

The script has a couple of other minor flaws; it could do with less name-dropping (which will only serve to date it), and there’s really no need to eventually tell us which way Wesley is leaning sexually. Does it matter? There’s also the issue of the too-quick conclusion. Then again, a play that leaves you wanting more is preferable to one that drags on.