Wrong Turn at Lungfish
Wrong Turn at Lungfish by Garry Marshall and Lowell Ganz, Ensemble Theatre, August 28-October 11; (02) 9929 0644 or www.ensemble.com.au. Cast: Hollie Andrew, Jonathon Freeman, Natalie Fulton, John McTernan. Director Andrew Doyle, designer Anna Ilic, lighting Gavan Swift.
A COMEDY set in a hospital room around the bed of a blind, dying man doesn’t sound promising, does it? Perhaps not, but in this instance you’d be wrong. The clue is in the identity of the writers: As a director, Marshall was behind such Hollywood hits as Pretty Woman andFrankie and Johnny as well as the TV hits Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley and The Odd Couple. Ganz co-wrote City Slickers and Splash. In other words, the two have a long history of the American staple: comedy with a heart and a twist.
Dating from 1993, Wrong Turn at Lungfish has elements of the above plus a pinch of Pygmalion, a dash of Born Yesterday and a teaspoonful of Educating Rita. In short: there is much that is familiar while the twists and turns and differences are not.
John McTernan is Peter Ravenswaal, the former dean of a liberal arts college whose blindness is the outward symptom of a creeping brain tumour which is slowly killing him. He lost his sight two months previously and is neither reconciled to it nor willing to cope. He is not going graciously, rather he is seriously cranky about the situation and is every nurse’s nightmare.
The only nurse in the hospital who enters his room is a rookie (Natalie Fulton) who tells him outright she’s only there because the senior staff have given up and refused. Ravenswaal is unconcerned by this revelation: he doesn’t want nice. He wants Beethoven, TS Eliot and the other mainstays of his life to be the ones to make sense of his predicament. It hasn’t yet occurred to him that this is unlikely to happen.
Enter Anita Merendino (Hollie Andrew) a young reading-for-the-blind volunteer whose blithe outlook on life is as sunny as her Bronx accent is painful on the ear, particularly when mangling Baudelaire or Schopenhauer. The progress of their smart-mouthed, wisecracking relationship is predictable on the one hand and slightly startling on the other. For instance, many in the Ensemble’s core audience, being of un certain age and un certain type du North Shore gentility were audibly surprised at the idea, artlessly expressed by Anita, that “fellatio is such a pretty word.”
The late entrance of her boyfriend Dominic (Jonathon Freeman) brings another layer of meaning and potential to a comedy that is already an unusual mix of light and shade. His menacing presence makes the play much more 2008 than 1993. Indeed, Lungfish is in many ways a play whose time has come.
Fifteen years ago a character such as Dominic was either a melodramatic throwback to West Side Story or Dog Day Afternoon whereas now, he is merely normal. And to a greater degree, the cranky, ungracious academic Peter Ravenswaal is an even more plausible and likely character today. He is light years from the beloved showbiz norm of how impending death transforms a mortal to saint-in-training.
Ravenswaal is not about to become suddenly angelic, accepting and philosophical in the face of Fate’s cruel trick, as depicted in such goop-fests as Love Story or Terms of Endearment. On the contrary. And let’s face it, this is as likely and as valid a response to such extremely bad news as the Mother Teresa option.
As powerfully portrayed by McTernan, Ravenswaal is an obnoxious yet understandable character. He also has charm even though he is authentically nasty too. It’s a splendid performance and is matched by newcomer Hollie Andrew who grabs the Bronx babe by the adenoids and imbues her with charm, pathos, spunk and genuine depth. She goes straight onto the One To Watch list.
In their support roles, Freeman and Fulton are also excellent. Director Andrew Doyle’s light hand steers the production around the hidden shoals of sentimentality and caricature that might bring a lesser group to grief. As it is, there is much laughter and some tears in an evening that surprises and entertains with uncommon and welcome vivacity.
