Sunday, February 8, 2015

Old-school plays in mint condition

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Founded in 1992, New York's Mint Theater Company is dedicated to bringing old, often neglected plays back to the stage.  The tiny theater space is located on the 3rd floor of a rather unremarkable building on West 43rd Street. But inside, there isn't a bad seat in the house.

Since the company was established, Mint has staged about 30 plays and yesterday I went along to see its latest production, Fashions for Men - a charming, character-driven comedy by Hungarian playwright Ferenc Molnar.

Old-school haberdashers used to be a place for men to buy their fashion and accessories: gloves; coats; scarves and the like.  But life, on and off stage, gets decidedly more interesting when you introduce women into the action too.  So Act 1 of "Fashion For Men" opens in a haberdashers in Budapest in 1917 that caters to a colourful cast of male and female characters from all walks of life.

In a post-play discussion with the company's dramaturg and scholar, Dr Maya Cantu, we were reminded that even though the play is set in WW1 Europe, Molnar makes no mention of these outside influences in his play.  There's no hint of strife or sacrifice and as one critic put it, the play really does feel like it's taking place "inside a snowglobe".  Indeed, no external or "real life" influences interfere with the action at all.

And maybe that's what helps "Fashion For Men" retain its appeal across the decades.  It's not frozen in time - it could probably be set anywhere, at any point in history.  The characters are certainly credible.  The protagonist is Peter Juhasz, owner of the haberdashers, and the quintessential nice guy.  Never seeing the bad in people, he's constantly being taken for granted by the other characters - they take his money, his emotional energy, and his time.   Around him, we meet the unfaithful wife, the deceptive co-worker, the wise older man, the skirt-chasing aristocrat, and the conniving ingenue - all of whom capitalise on Peter's good nature to achieve their own end game.  Such saintly goodness has led critics to describe Juhasz as "unworldly" and even "pathetic", but I think I share NY Times critic John Corbin's assessment of Juhasz as "a character conceived with the most exquisite grace and sympathy".

As the three-act play unfolded on a series of beautiful old-timey sets, I do remember thinking that Molnar's 1917 Hungary is a lot like 2015 New York City.  There are pushy-shovey people galore out there who will try and take advantage of you if they think you'll let them.  And while his kindness can sometimes be frustrating in the face of such blatant exploitation, ultimately Peter Juhasz sees his fellow characters for who they are, but he stays true to who he is.  He doesn't stoop to the mercenary level of others and because of that, when Peter finally realises his happy ending, you know the audience is proud of him.