The lovely young couple is frolicking on the couch. They appear to be so in love. He is Leslie Carroll Arthur (Michael Phillip Thomas), and she is Kate (Elisabeth Rebel), a perfect couple. Well, almost.
Leslie has been seriously dating Connie (Haley Palmer) and she, Kate, is about to be married to Jon Trachtman (William Parker Shore), Leslie's roommate. That's when prolific playwrights Billy Van Zandt and Jane Milmore's Love, Sex and the IRS starts to get complicated.
The action takes place in under 24 hours. As with all good contemporary farces, the complexities are rampant. It all starts with a simple lie. Jon claims Leslie and he are married on his 1040, thus saving much on his taxes. Okay, not that simple a lie. An IRS auditor, Floyd Spinner (J.G. Franklin) has come to investigate.
Jon cons Leslie to dress in drag, with the help of Kate. Jon's mother, Vivian (Sharon Kloosterman) unexpectedly flies in to New York to help prepare for the upcoming wedding. Not enough quirkiness? Add Mr. Jansen (David Netteland), a much too snoopy beer-guzzling apartment manager, who feels free to search the apartment at will for possible additions to the household. You know like girlfriends, boyfriends or parents.
The sight of Thomas playing a very painful Leslie in drag is hilarious. Leslie is perhaps one of the most awkward, unfeminine drag queens of all time. He has trouble remembering to go from his natural baritone to, at least, an alto voice. He is clumsy as a male, totally uncoordinated as a female. Thomas easily masters the duality of his role to the entertainment of the audience.
Jon, an alpha male who rules and intimidates his roommate, is quite foreboding to his lovely fiancée, and in general can be a bit of a pain. Shore does a convincing portrayal of his complex character. I.R.S agent Spinner (Franklin) appears to be officious but deteriorates quickly. At one point he feels that he's God's gift to women, notably Kate, who represses his desires quite effectively.
We finally meet the elusive Connie and wish we had met her sooner. Palmer's interpretation is a delight. Connie may be short a few marbles or just clueless. Maybe she is just totally, irrevocably innocent of the realities of life. Her boyfriend, Leslie, is of absolutely no help.
Vivian is an almost too Jewish mother. Though the character is written broadly, Kloosterman excellently interprets her.
As the play draws to a close we meet Mr. Grunion (Dmitriy Demidov), a roving minister of sorts. (The playwrights had fun naming this character. Grunion are slimy little fish that lay their eggs along our coast at high tides. The male wraps around the female and deposits his sperm. Mr. Grunion exhibits the male's traits a bit on stage. You've got to see it to unappreciate it.)
Director Jerry Pilato's fine cast had the opening-night crowd laughing through out. On the technical side, playwrights occasionally create serious production problems. Between scene one and two in Act One, the set is completely redressed. This is no easy task; however, with the aid of some hot music and flashing lights, we end up having a show of it. Because of the nature of this play, it doesn't hurt and, in fact, proves nicely innovative.
Love, Sex and the IRS is contemporary farce at its best. It is well directed with a cast that knows what timing is all about and how to hold for a laugh.
