Tim Marriott (left) plays Monty, and Brian Dykstra is his soon-to-be in-law Pete in A Special Relationship, written by Marriott and Jeff Stolzer.
In political parlance, the term A Special Relationship refers to the longstanding alliance of America and its “closest ally” Britain (the phrase “America’s oldest ally” refers to France). Disparities in language are a prominent feature in Tim Marriott and Jeff Stolzer’s winsome comedy, which is playing as part of the Brits Off Broadway festival. The piece takes as a major theme George Bernard Shaw’s maxim (sometimes attributed to Winston Churchill or Oscar Wilde): “England and America are two countries divided by a common language.”
Pete and Monty lay out the pieces of a tent, or gazebo, or marquee, that they hope to construct for the wedding reception. Photographs by Hunter Canning.
The story centers on two men whose children are about to marry: the British Monty Toft (Marriott) and the father of the groom, Brian Dykstra’s Pete Esposito, an ostensibly retired plumber and proud “Joisey” guy who’s happy to have the chance to use his hands again as the two men try to put up a reception tent for the wedding.
Marriott and Stolzer trade more in a comedy of familiarity than in breaking new ground. Perhaps feeling a bit culturally superior, the British Monty likes to spout lines from Shakespeare, and he is continually nonplussed that Pete doesn’t recognize the Bard’s quotations. A sample from Macbeth: “’Twas a rough night’”—both a comment on Pete’s inability to sleep the previous night and a line of Macduff’s that is only marginally more memorable than “Who’s there?” (the first line in Hamlet).
The language barrier is evoked by contrasting meanings, though nothing so simple as elevator vs. lift: as Pete explains, he was looking for a bathroom (he uses the term “ensuite,” but that is surely more of a hotelier’s term) and “found myself in a closet.”
Monty: I think you mean the wardrobe.
Pete: The wardrobe?
Monty: You know, the cupboard.
Pete: What cupboard?
Monty: The cupboard where one stores the clothes. The wardrobe.
Pete: Right. The closet. Where I hang my wardrobe.
Monty: Sorry … your what?
Pete: Where I hang my wardrobe, my clothes …
Monty: You call your clothes your wardrobe?
Pete and Monty struggle to figure out the instructions.
This sort of give-and-take could use the snap of a Marx Brothers skit. Under Margarett Perry’s direction, it’s almost languorous, but this is primarily theater of relaxation, a gentle divertissement with a sitcom premise.
Marriott is fine playing a classic stiff-upper-lipped Britisher, though Monty’s hand trembles and he receives phone calls of a worrying nature. It’s clear that something is troubling him that he needs to conceal, and he is dealing with it by drinking too much. A further drawback has been that Pete and his wife, Theresa, have arrived two days late because she ate a bad oyster at a stopover in Iceland. That in itself has caused Monty to be more stressed than usual and to resist assistance from Pete.
Dykstra as the loosey-goosey Pete is crasser than Monty, and the language barrier arises again, but with undercurrents of class, when he describes his wife’s reaction to the bad oyster:
Pete: For 24 hours straight she was driving the porcelain bus.
Monty: Driving the what?
Pete: You know, kissing the porcelain god. Blowing chunks, tossing her cookies, doing the Technicolor yawn? In the loo—puking.
Pete and Monty celebrate their success with a selfie.
The tent provides another source of friction. Monty insists on following the directions exactly. Pete has an instinct for putting things together, and, of course, in the end he’s the one with know-how. But he’s also perceptive: he cottons to the stress Monty is under and links it to financing the wedding. And he helps give Monty the confidence to seek assistance—perhaps from Theresa, who is a counsellor.
There’s a good deal of leavening humor to balance the crises, some amusing comments on “influencers,” and an occasional surprise, as when the strait-laced Monty inquires about his future son-in-law Nicky:
Monty: I couldn’t help but notice that he wears nail polish.
Pete: Yeah, that started in high school.
Monty: Well, no offense meant, but in my experience a proper gentleman would never wear nail polish.
Pete: Nicky tells me in many primitive tribes around the world the male elders wear nail polish and makeup. … But you gotta be tolerant. Cultural norms, you know, are constantly changing.
Overall, though, there’s little that’s unusual or challenging in A Special Relationship. At 65 minutes, it’s a pleasant entertainment that involves less a culture clash than, perhaps, abrasion. And everything is solved by a late-breaking twist, as in Tartuffe, The Threepenny Opera, or Anthony Asquith’s film The V.I.P.s. A Special Relationship doesn’t reach those heights, but it has its own modest charm.
Tim Marriott and Jeff Stolzer’s A Special Relationship plays through June 29 at 59E59 Theaters (59 E. 59th St.). Evening performances are at 7:30 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday; matinees are at 2:30 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. For tickets and more information, visit 59e59.org.
Playwrights: Tim Marriott & Jeff Stolzer
Director: Margarett Perry
Production Design: MuMbles
Lighting Design: Jen Leno
Sound Design: Simon Reilly
