
Our guide through the chaos is Lucas (John Loughney), presumably based on the young playwright, a wannabe writer hired by Prince (Ray Ficca) on a trial basis.
We meet the other writers as they amble, saunter or shlump into work, with Lucas offering the audience character notes on each of them. Milt (Matt Dewberry), a doughy kibbitzer, shows up in a beret, hoping the boss will notice him. Val (Bradley Foster Smith), a brainy Russian emigre, seemingly dons a dour expression. Brian (Dan Van Why), an Irish American in this hothouse of Jewish jokesters, yearns to sell a screenplay and move to Hollywood. Kenny (Kevin Hasser), a dapper voice of reason, tries to prevent group panic.
Carol (Brianna Letourneau) holds her own as the lone woman, whom the guys respect, even if they’re loath to give her credit.”
Ficca has a fine time as the tortured, obsessive Max, his gangly frame cramped with anxiety. Smith’s Russian expat Val is also a sourball treat, whether pondering news of Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin’s death or honing his pronunciation of an all-American obscenity. Dewberry, as the clotheshorse Milt, has comic timing and inklings of insecurity to spare.

All this is lit with fluorescent brightness by Allan Weeks. Erin Nugent has clothed the cast — including the female characters — in apparel that seems in-period and rumpled as per the generally unfashionable characters wearing the outfits.


