Limonade Tous Les Jours
Charles L. Mee's latest exploration on love wears out its welcome long before its 70 minutes are over.
That isn't to stay the unstoppably prolific Mee isn't on to something. He's even funny making an argument that's difficult to deny: Love is often irrational, and so are lovers. Discussing their complicated attraction to each other from the moment they meet at a Paris sidewalk cafe, Ya Ya and Andrew continue battling over the bottomless topic like two dogs over a bone. Whether they're in bed together or visiting a couturier's salon or other establishments around town, they parse in often laugh-worthy phrases what it is about themselves and each other that draws them together and repels them and how unlikely it is that they will extend their infatuation beyond the limits of an average fling.
The problem for the audience -- sitting on two sides of a playing area decorated by set designer Hilary Noxon -- is that this more or less stream-of-consciousness banter remains interesting only long enough to establish Mee's joke about how the abiding French interest in love reduces the intellect to a bowl of soupe a l'oignon. And even though Mee has thrown in a few distractions, they don't have the effect he might have wished.
For example, Mee has Andrew visit the boite where Ya Ya in a slinky gown sings Edith Piaf's "Hymne a l'Amour." It's not an especially great idea, since Handley isn't much of a chanteuse -- and she doesn't improve measurably by the time towards the denouement when she intones Piaf's even more impassioned "Mon Dieu." Meanwhile, Anton Briones, who spends most of his time as a waiter, does a nimble if unnecessary balletic tap number.