The Gallery Players has done the impossible: presented a musical about two comedians that doesn’t have a single laugh in it.
Make no mistake: That’s not the fault of the wonderful cast of the show, “Top of the Heap.” And it’s not the result of poor sets, unprofessional costumes or a weak orchestra section. All are well above board.
The problem of this dour non-comedy is simply bad writing on the part of William Squier, who’s credited with both the book and the lyrics. It’s difficult to know which is worse, and it’s depressing to consider.
The musical starts on an auspicious note, with an ensemble song — “Something’s On” — about the vapid cultural landscape of the mid-1950s, when people find themselves glued to the television set in that supposedly Golden Age simply because “something’s on.”
But the lofty theatrical ambitions hinted at in the opening number disappear immediately as the plot creaks into gear. The singers, it turns out, are players on the major variety show of the era, “Top of the Heap,” hosted by the Ed Sullivan-esque Edgar Callahan (a suitably smug, though not convincingly evil, James Andrew Walsh).
One night, Callahan decides to shift production from glitzy Manhattan to Brooklyn to capitalize on the popularity of the Dodgers during their 1955 World Series run.
On the absolute opposite end of the borough’s cultural success scale are Mauro and Webster, a terrible comic duo consigned to playing strip clubs, stag parties and bars so far from the big time that getting a gig in Sheepshead Bay would be like headlining in Atlantic City.
Of course, Ronny Mauro (Kenny Wade Marshall) was watching “Top of the Heap” when Callahan made his announcement about shifting operations to Brooklyn, so he sets out to get himself and his partner into Callahan’s sights.
Marshall is a true delight, a sweating, hungering mass of ambition whose desperation to please audiences is a perfect match for his character’s desire to make it in show business. But where Marshall is a genuine talent, Ronny Mauro is the worst show business cliche.
His partner, Gil Webster (David Perlman) is no better, whining about wanting to bring something original to their hackneyed act, even playing Beatnik clubs in “the Village” without Ronny’s knowledge in the hopes of finding something “real” in his comedy.
But there’s no sense at all that Gil has comedy in him — least of all the variety of comedy he hears the better comics performing in Manhattan.
Indeed, the one actually original joke that writer Squier actually gives Gil to deliver — it centers on a misunderstanding of the rhythm method of contraception — is not funny in all three of the versions he’s forced to tell.
That would be bad enough, but his insistence on telling the joke on Callahan’s show — yes, the pair do make it to “Top of the Heap,” though their moment in the big time lasts but an eye blink — turns the entire second act into an endless coda as Ronny struggles to get back in the limelight through a Faustian bargain with Callahan.
By then, you’ve long since stopped caring whether he and Webster succeed or fail.
A bad book can be saved by crackling lyrics, but Squier again fails to deliver. The rhymes in virtually every song are forced, most notably in “Tell the Girl Goodbye,” a song about Gil’s crush on a nightclub singer. Though no one is asking him to disavow his love, he nonetheless sings, “Call me a fool/or stubborn as a mule/I’m not the man to live a lie/I just can’t tell the girl goodbye.”
Musically, there is a lot to like about some songs, thanks to Jeffrey Lodin’s score. The best number is “Harmon’s Two Cents,” which should really have been titled after the main lyric about Edgar: “He’s a dick.” Another toe-tapper is the up-tempo “Mingle, Schmingle, Bingle,” about the world of second-rate nightclub performers, but the more times the cast sings the words, “mingle, schmingle, bingle,” the more you realize that you’re listening to gibberish.
And that’s too bad because Squier wastes solid performances from an able cast.
“Top of the Heap” runs Thursdays through Sundays at The Gallery Players [199 14th St. between Fourth and Fifth avenues, (718) 832-0617].