Broadway’s brand new, side-splitting farce is an outrageous tale of sex, betrayal and desire as one woman decides to expose her latest affair to both her husband — and to her lover’s wife. The true meaning of fate and faith, identity and infidelity, love and marriage are all called into question as a surprising and hilarious web of secrets unravels in this ridiculously funny romantic comedy.
The Cottage may look like a throwback to the tony sauciness of Noël Coward’s plays in the 1930s—in a nod to the Master, Beau’s secretary is named Mrs. Worthington—but it is broader in character and characters, and less sophisticated in language. Some of the play’s biggest laughs come from outright spoofery of its period and genre, like a running joke that finds cigarettes and lighters concealed in unexpected parts of Paul Tate dePoo III’s well-stuffed set. (These cigs rarely stay lit for long; they are alway being stubbed out in some dramatic gesture.) Amid the old-fashioned trappings, Rustin nestles a welcome modern sensibility to the plot’s skirmishes of the sexes; Sylvia’s dissatisfaction hints at the growing agency of post-Victorian Englishwomen. While the architecture of the plot is solid, what really keeps The Cottage up is the comedic industry of its cast. Directed by Jason Alexander, a seasoned hand at classic timing, the actress leap gamely into their funny business. McCormack’s vain Beau is smoothly caddish and twittish; Moffat, leading with his chin, has some inspired physical horseplay, and Steingold packs a lot of power into her small frame. And Bundy, who looks smashing in Sydney Maresca’s costumes, holds the play’s center together with considerable appeal. It’s sex, sure, but more than that: It’s charm.
I suppose it’s when we least expect them that feelings hit the hardest, so a bedroom farce in the style of Noël Coward becomes a likely candidate for a brief, biting moment of meditation on true, disinterested love. Sandy Rustin’s The Cottage, which has been making its rounds through regional theatres before landing at Broadway’s Hayes Theatre, is a well-crafted comedy with simple, sturdy laughs. Directed by Jason Alexander and set in the 1923 British countryside, it often feels like the ‘90s sitcom, or 2010s prestige, version of that—if Coward oversaw the unlikely consummation of Seinfeld and Downton Abbey. The laughs are there, thanks to a comedically fine-tuned cast, but, befitting a bed-hopping plot, a tender, surprising altruism keeps them on your face.
Digital Rush
Price: $39
Where: On the Today Tix app.
When: Released on a first-come, first-served basis every performance day at 9 AM.
Limit: Two per customer
Information: Subject to availability.
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