Julia Sweeney's God Said 'Ha!'
Julia Sweeney's God Said 'Ha!' (Lyceum Theater; 701 seats; $ 45 top) A James B. Freydberg, Jon Steingart, Gavin Polone, Georgia Frontiere, F.O.J. Prods., Caralyn Fuld and Lifetime Television presentation of a monologue in one act, written and performed by Julia Sweeney. Directed by Beth Milles. Set, Michael McGarty; lighting, Russell H. Champa; costume, Connie Martin; sound, John Shivers; co-producers, Pachyderm Entertainment, On the Fly Entertainment. Opened Nov. 19, 1996, reviewed Nov. 18;previously reviewed, in Daily Variety, Jan 15 (in San Francisco) and June 4 (in Los Angeles); Running time: 1 hour, 30 min. A more congenial stage presence than Julia Sweeney would be hard to imagine. The comedian best known for her "Saturday Night Live" character, the ambiguously gendered Pat, Sweeney has brought her sweet-tempered monologue "God Said 'Ha!' " to Broadway, and if the Lyceum Theater seems completely outsized for this modest , however pleasant, endeavor, Sweeney's good will goes a long way in filling the space. Whether that's enough to sustain a Broadway run is uncertain at best. With amiable, self-deprecating humor, Sweeney relays the bittersweet saga of her life over the past couple years. Having left both "SNL" and a failing marriage, Sweeney moved to Los Angeles and bought a bungalow where she'd begin a new life of independence, her career on the upswing. She imagines herself the envy of the neighborhood, her cozy new home all but shouting, "A woman lives here alone and is happy about it!" But not for long, at least not alone. Her beloved younger brother Mike is diagnosed with lymph cancer, and moves in with Sweeney as they embark together on the horrendous journey of illness, chemo, bureaucracy and, not least, Mom and Dad: The bungalow meant for one soon houses Sweeney, her brother and their parents. Sweeney, who does a wickedly (if affectionately) funny imitation of her annoyingly daffy mom, gets plenty of laughs from the crowded-house scenario, as all involved soon revert to the household roles and rules of Sweeney's growing-up years. She finds herself sneaking off to have a cigarette, plotting secret trysts with a new boyfriend and dreaming of going off to college. Good comic material, well used. Then God really says "ha." In the midst of her brother's excruciating ordeal, Sweeney gets a call from her gynecologist with more bad news: Sweeney herself has cervical cancer. The stunned actress responds, "That's impossible. My brother has cancer." As the family comes together, driving one another crazy but strengthening bonds, Sweeney's brother loses his battle. Three days after his funeral, she has the hysterectomy that will save her life. As a writer, Sweeney does a fine job weaving her heavier stories with lighter, sometimes offbeat anecdotes. Her route is circuitous (and obviously written she never seems particularly off-the-cuff) but determined as she offers observations on everything from fond memories of the nuns who taught her (memories spurred by her negative reaction to the "Catholic vaudeville" of "Nunsense") to her father's obsession with National Public Radio. Some of her best anecdotes mine the differences in attitude between her small-town parents and her more cosmopolitan self. "Even using the word 'pasta' is like throwing my big-city ways right in their faces," she cracks. This ambling approach never really finds its way to an emotional pay-off. Although it's perhaps unfair to demand profundity in the wake of such devastating and senseless loss, it's not too much to ask for a dramaturgical climax, which Sweeney simply doesn't provide. Although Michael McGarty's tastefully spare living room set is cozy enough and although the show is being staged under the cut-rate Broadway Alliance plan a smaller, more intimate Off Broadway house would have better suited the unassuming charms of this show and its likable host. Perhaps one of the seven above-the-title producers should have made just that suggestion. Greg Evans
