The American Plan
Eastern Standard, the self-consciously politically correct comedy for which he’s best known, seems in retrospect less a play than a glib grant proposal, ticking off hot-button issues like homelessness, AIDS, and white-collar crime in its exploration of the relationships of two couples–one gay, one straight–and the lost souls they encounter. The critically lauded The Maderati, about the indiscreet charmlessness of the New York bourgeoisie, suffers from a forced lunacy that’s flaccidly imitative of S.J. Perlman. Even at his weakest, however, Greenberg displays more ingenuity and depth than such roundly hailed playwrights as John Patrick Shanley, yet outside of New York he’s still relatively unknown. His recent plays Night and Her Stars, The Extra Man, and Jenny Keeps Talking have won their share of accolades from New York critics yet still haven’t found an audience below 45th Street or west of Central Park West.
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The exception to Greenberg’s well-drawn characters is Olivia, a rather sketchily written critique of stereotypes of black domestics that nevertheless falls victim to stereotyping. Otherwise Greenberg’s characters and dialogue are consistently involving, even when we know perfectly well where the conflicts are going to lead. The only moments that ring false are some of the lines that seem stolen from 40s movies. When young Nick says loftily that one day he hopes to “build a whole city,” he invites the cringing recollection of George Bailey’s treacly lines, which must have seemed trite when Frank Capra filmed them 50 years ago. And someone somewhere should have informed Greenberg that it’s not very original for Lili to demonstrate her affection for Nick by saying, “I love you. I know that sounds crazy, but I’m not crazy.”
