Le Diner de Cons, boffo on the French stage since its Parisian opening in 1993 and still playing throughout Europe and in Argentina, repeated its success internationally as a movie. It took English expat Barbara Bray to translate and adapt it, and, with her plucky little troupe from Paris' English-language stage community, to finally produce Francis Veber's Theatre des Varietes hit in English. What the cast and presentation lack in expensive production elements they more than make up for in talent and enthusiasm. Not that the apartment setting with its huge window toward the city skyline is tacky, but definitely minimalist are the furnishings and decor, delimited by black velvet curtains. Clearly, though, Pierre and Christine are affluent.
Both are also troubled: her reasons will be revealed; he's suffering from a lumbar sprain. His doctor wants Pierre (slick Christian Erickson) to cancel his weekly dinner with pals, who love to invite an unsuspecting fool to join them so they can make fun of him. His wife (solemn Lisa Jacobs) wants Pierre to ask her to stay with him instead of their both going out separately. What persuades Pierre to stick to his original plan is a silly message left on the telephone answering machine of Francois, this week's fool, followed by the appearance of the fool himself. (Hard to imagine anyone better than perfectly timed, goofy Les Clack as the fastidious tax accountant.)
Since Pierre is an arts publisher, Francois has brought along his bright green portfolio of photos of matchstick models he creates of bridges, Eiffel Tower, etc. Yet it's on the phone that he'll do his (comic) best -- while trying to help, of course, getting Pierre in ever-deeper doo-doo. Somehow he brings in likeable Robert Dauney as Just (short for "Justin") Leblanc, Christine's former lover from whom Pierre snatched her and to whom she has seemingly decided to return. And instead of reaching the doctor when Pierre suffers a fall, Francois calls up Pierre's old girlfriend (Elizabeth Corbett, nicely busty in animal skins but overly libidinous even for a near nympho).
Into the mix, demanded by farce, of the wrong people meeting at wrong times, bounds suspicious tax inspector Cheval (spike-haired, glassy-eyed Mike Dineen, never crazier). This necessitates a mad rush to hide any signs of riches in the apartment and the dinner Pierre's preparing. From here on, accompanied by vintage wine diluted with Amphora vinegar, a new dinner game is played, one secret after the other is revealed, reversal follows reversal -- for all the characters portrayed as well as two mentioned.
The Dinner Game is definitely Veber's funniest play since La Cage aux Folles. English language theater producers should take note: Bray's adaptation is a winner and portable as can be. Why, it might even be developed as a musical.
