Rather like those classic ‘lonely at Christmas’ songs, there’s something comfortably familiar about a story of love and heartbreak set at Christmas, and The Crumple Zone has that recognisable feel with its course of true love never did run smooth romcom-esque flavours.
As befits the budget of its unemployed actor tenants, the action takes place in an unglamorous flat on Staten Island. Terry would like to date Buck, but Buck is in love with Terry’s flatmate, Alex, who loves absent long-time partner Sam (Terry’s friend), or at least Alex thinks he still may do.
Terry can’t seem to catch an even break in love or work and sustains this soap opera life of slamming doors, contention and drama by swilling unhealthily cheap booze paid for by waiting tables and picking up inappropriate partners on the ferry. This Christmas weekend, it is Roger.
Office worker Buck is positively sedate by comparison and certain that all he wants for Christmas is Alex, who is stressed by guilt and being pressed by Buck to put their affair on a more formal footing.
Writer Buddy Thomas has all three limited by a lack of maturity that rings true across the action, lightening the hostility between the characters so although the situation is sadly very feasible, it never gets grim.
In a structure that often sees Buck separating the rowing thespians, Thomas also puts Terry between the quarrelling lovers. It’s more love-tetrahedron than triangle, with Terry at the base holding it up even when things fall apart as we know they must.
This Off-Broadway hit has the efficient bitter-sweetness of a Negroni. Though to extend the metaphor, there are a couple of oversized slices of orange that could be pared down without causing any damage.
There is something timeless about this winner-takes-it-all narrative, but the answerphone as a plot device cements the action in a pre-mobile phone era, with Richard Lambert’s set neatly decade-non-specific, and the same applies to Janet Huckle’s costumes.
Director Helen Bang keeps things moving along at a cracking pace so there are few gaps between the laughs, and when it turns briefly dark, the contrast brings you up short.
Thomas is non-judgmental in his writing, leaving Jonny Davidson’s Alex low on penitence but convincingly conflicted between Sinead Donnelly’s sweet Sam and James Mackay’s insistent Buck until it is crunch time. There is no such deliberating for Nicholas Gauci’s horny oddball Roger, who practices a conscience-free form of adultery.
The catastrophising diva Terry takes a while to warm to, but James Grimm packages up the drama queen with a balancing charm and a good dose of energy which is hard to resist, helped of course by the fact that Terry gets the best lines.
For all his failings, Terry is a good friend and, in a world where being naughty or nice doesn’t necessarily get you what you deserve, it’s good to have someone to share a hard candy Christmas when no chestnuts roasting on an open fire are available.
Contains very brief comedy nudity.
Reviewer: Sandra Giorgetti