Halpern and Johnson
Halpern and Johnson, Ensemble Theatre, November 27, 2007-December 19, 2008; ph: +612 9929 0644 or www.ensemble.com.au
The last time Garry McDonald and Henri Szeps appeared together was in the ABC TV series Mother and Son, written by the matchless Geoffrey Atherden. It remains one of the best sitcoms ever produced in Australia (from 1983-1993).
The two actors are indelibly associated with their roles as the Beare brothers: the long-suffering Arthur (McDonald) and the odious Robert (Szeps). And there is a whiff of reprise in the air in the roles of two men who are at odds with each other. Rather than a cantankerous mother as their meeting point, in this instance they are reluctantly drawn into a relationship through an unexpected connection with the woman (wife/lover) at whose graveside they meet.
Unfortunately, however, Halpern and Johnson was not written by Geoffrey Atherden. It began life as a 1980s telemovie (starring Jackie Gleason and Laurence Olivier, ye gods - it should have been called The Odd Couple) before its stage career began. Although it has achieved some popular success over the years, particularly on the US dinner-theatre circuit, it simply isn't in the same league as the lingering memory of what was achieved by Atherden, Cracknell McDonald and Szeps.
The reason for the comparison being made here is that the season was virtually sold out before opening night. This has to be because of McDonald and Szeps and memories of Mother and Son. It really couldn't be because people were drawn to a play whose title conjures up visions of a small-town firm of accountants or lawyers.
It also goes some way towards explaining the hopeful applause and laughter that greeted every glimmer of the Beare brothers; and also why the laughter became more desultory and puzzled as the two wrestled with the paper-thin characters that are not Arthur and Robert.
Szeps plays rough diamond widower Joseph Halpern whose wife, Flo, was an uncomplicated, nice domesticated lady. As he snuffles and whoofs at her graveside he is joined by a stranger, Denis Johnson, lugubriously-clad and lugubrious in demeanour. Garry McDonald could phone in this kind of semi-comic caricature standing on his head, but he doesn't. Rather he invests the man who turns out to be Florence's secret lover with more nuance, blood and humour than the play deserves.
The two men get crankier and crankier as they spar with their memories: Halpern insists Flo was a simple housewife with no inner yearnings. Au contraire, Johnson says, Florence loved opera and literature. They manouevre around these conflicting revelations with increasing suspicion and antagonism until - if you're still awake - some kind of rapprochement is eventually achieved.
Director Mark Kilmurry seems to have been at a loss as to what to do with this mediocre material - how else to explain how awful it is in comparison to his Hamlet or Lear? Just because the action (for want of a more apt description) takes place at a funeral is no reason to impose a pace so funereal it makes the setting's improbable papier mache dead tree seem lively.
It is likely that fans of McDonald and Szeps will go along in high anticipation and laugh because that's what they're expecting to do. (And there are some pale imitations of the one-liners and barbed exchanges to assist with the illusion.) However, it would be hard to believe that ten minutes after leaving the theatre a sense of discontent and nagging hunger won't set in - although you won't remember the reason why. Junk food will do that every time and, sadly, life is too short for this kind of nonsense - as Flo/Florence might have been trying to tell them.
