‘Art’ Review: James Corden Impresses in Broadway Revival
9 / 10
This review isn’t meant to slight Cannavale and Harris: The former is characteristically able to conjure smartest-guy-in-the-room umbrage, as if irritated to even be forced to explain himself, while the latter is at his best when preening over his new investment. (Just under the surface, Harris lets us understand, is a fear that there’s a joke he’s not quite getting.) But it’s Corden, who wraps up his scene of rage pallid and gasping in a manner that somehow doesn’t feel showy and unearned, who’s the standout. When he reaches a point beyond reason, it’s a moment that transforms, first, our sense of what the performer can do and, then, the play itself. Up to Corden’s breakdown, the play’s been in a tradition of talky comedies of manners that stretches from “Seinfeld” back to Wilde and Molière; after it, we’re on more treacherous ground, and, suddenly, anything seems possible. The play itself becomes a blank white space waiting for the actors to color it with something unexpected.
