Covering a Classic

Ostensibly a portrait of
loneliness, Love Song really shines
when it comes to its portrait of a marriage. Single Beane (Andrew Pastides), who
is so disconnected from the world that the only dishes he owns are a cup and a
spoon, enters and leaves his sister and brother-in-law’s apartment like a
ghost, sitting on their couch in silence and killing any attempts at
conversation with his oddball ways. Until, that is, he comes home one day to
find a woman in his dark apartment. Molly came to rob him; she stayed to figure
out why he doesn’t own a single thing of sentimental value. By the time they
meet again, she has become the key to his engaging in life.

 

As Beane blossoms under the
attentions of his new girlfriend, his sister Joan (Laura Latreille) and
brother-in-law Harry (Ian Bradford) reconnect in a way that is rarely seen on
stage. Writer and director John Kolvenbach isn’t interested in writing about
another marriage between two verbal heavy-weight champions; Joan and Harry
argue with pleasure—in the opening scene Joan tries to defend herself against
Harry after firing an intern for crying—but the arguments have the feel of
habit. While Beane begins to emerge from his shell, however, Joan and Harry
find themselves suddenly inspired to shrug off the harness of routine.

Beane’s plot is shadowed by
previous, similar efforts (most notably Lars
and the Real Girl), but Joan and Harry’s story is unlike most others. They
seem like a real couple, one with a genuine love between them that can
withstand Harry’s claim that conversation is opposing what Joan says for fun.
And Latreille and Bradford have such an easy assurance about them, and such
relaxed chemistry, that their scenes have a romantic, goofy feel—particularly
when they decide to play hooky from work to makeout on the couch all day.

Pastides and Zoe Winters
lack that easiness in their scenes together, and they unfortunately feel like a
distraction from Joan and Harry. Winters comes across as overly vehement in her
first scene, trying to terrorize Beane by recounting her reign of robbery
terror. (She also has tears streaming down her face for some unknown reason,
which is a little too much too soon.) Part of the problem, of course, is that
we’ve long heard the story of how debilitating loneliness can be, and though
Kolvenbach has a quirky new take on how Beane grapples with his despair, it’s
not fresh enough to make us forget all the other weirdo loners we’ve seen.
Lonely people on stage are a dime a dozen (Will Eno explored the concept in Middletown earlier this season), but a
marriage like Harry and Joan’s—and chemistry like Bradford and Latreille’s—is
something much rarer.

Love Song

Through May 8, 59E59
Theaters, 59 E. 59th St. (betw. Park & Madison Aves.), 212-279-4200;
$15–$65.