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What a Racquet!

 ((Odyssey Theatre, West L.A.; 99 seats; $ 22.50 top))

By HOYT HILSMAN

Judy Arnold Prods. presents a comedy in two acts by Naomi Karz Jacobs; director, Jules Aaron.
 
Cast: Edith Fields (Pearl Phillips), Steve Franken (Mort Phillips), Stanley Kamel (Sam Cohen), Milt Kogan (Paul Ginsberg), Frank Bonner (Fred Parks), Lynette Bennett (Sara Ginsberg), Carol Potter (Jean Parks), Wendie Jo Sperber (Molly Smith), Tom Astor (Roscoe Rafael).
 

Despite the valiant efforts of a gifted ensemble cast and the stalwart direction of Jules Aaron, this thin and labored comedy by Naomi Karz Jacobs goes nowhere. Another in a spate of senior stage comedies, the play trots out tired jokes, minimal story and cliched characters.

Pearl Phillips (Edith Fields) and her husband Mort (Steve Franken) are served with an eviction notice from their Marina del Rey apartment, and Pearl decides it's time to move to Leisure World. (Poor Leisure World, the butt of unfunny jokes for more than a generation).

Mort doesn't want to give up his tennis games with attractive young women in the Marina, or his regular sets with his buddies, Sam Cohen (Stanley Kamel), the cheapskate lawyer; Paul Ginsberg (Milt Kogan), the kvetching gynecologist; and Fred Parks (Frank Bonner), the earnest psychologist. (Already you've got trouble when the characters are doing lawyer and gynecologist jokes.)

The women, Pearl's friends, are every bit a match for the guys in their vapidity. Sara (Lynette Bennett) is a fiftysomething bimbo, Jean (Carol Potter) is aerobically earnest, and Molly (Wendie Jo Sperber), the only unmarried woman in the lot, has (of course) a bad case of the munchies. Mostly these women seem to sit around, play bridge and cook up schemes to outwit their not-too-bright husbands.

None of the women seems to work, except for Molly, who has some hatefully forgettable job.

In a not-so-delightful twist, the men hatch a scheme to keep Mort in the Marina by hiring an actor (Tom Astor) to impersonate an agent to flatter Pearl into taking acting classes so she won't want to move to Leisure World and, well, you get the picture.

This is a play with perhaps the germ of a good idea that needs a great deal more work in a writing class or workshop. Playwright Jacobs hurls obstacle after obstacle in the path of this talented cast, blockading the emotional truth of her characters with contrived jokes and plotting.

The exquisite cast does its best, despite the material. Franken is marvelous to watch, with his easy and natural onstage quality. The gifted Sperber steals a couple of scenes with her beautiful timing and understated gestures that cut through the lame humor of the script.

Kamel, Kogan, Bonner and Astor find moments to shine, as do Fields, Bennett and Potter. Director Aaron works hard to find the comedy. Set designer John Iacovelli deserves credit for fine work.

With the exception of "Bermuda Avenue Triangle," there seem to be few plays around that succeed in cutting to the emotional truth about aging. It's not enough to slap out a few Geritol jokes and some inane recycled plot. There's clearly a lot to say about growing old, and this play says none of it.

Sets, John Iacovelli; lighting, Jason Mullen; sound design, Leonora Schildkraut, Peter Stenshoel; costumes, Ariella Norminton. Opened March 22, 1996; reviewed March 24; runs through May 12. Running time: 1 hour, 35 min.