Not surprisingly, when Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple premiered in 1965, it was a smashing success. A droll play about two divorced men living together as poker-playing bachelors certainly had its charms back then. It was an era when divorce was just becoming an acceptable option for couples, and a “boys will be boys” motif was always a popular cause to champion. But what was novel “fun” back then borders on “kitsch” today.
At first, when watching Soulpepper’s recent revival of this classic, I had trouble accepting the word “odd.” How could an adjective that suggests strangeness apply to a situation that is so normal and so conventional by today’s standards? After all, chances are the majority of the audience has had a roommate, a boyfriend or girlfriend, or a spouse, who had different sensibilities from them; who either didn’t clean enough or cleaned too much. And divorce? Well, I don’t have to mention the startling statistics (that actually aren’t that startling anymore) to demonstrate its present social acceptance.
The plight of slobby Oscar and neat freak Felix, a storyline so ingrained in our pop-culture that one even needn’t see the play to know it, isn’t anything extraordinary. In fact, it seemed almost pedestrian, borderlining on sitcom-ness (which is, of course fitting, since not only did the play inspire one in the ‘70s, but Simon’s career began in television). I found myself thinking that perhaps its kitschiness stemmed from the stereotypical masculine/feminine roles that are assigned to sports writer Oscar and news writer Felix. Oscar is “the man”: loud and boorish, who likes to sit around in his underwear and drink like a fish. Felix, then, is “the woman”: sensitive and squeamish, who likes to both cook and clean. With homosexuality still very much a taboo subject in the ‘60s, I couldn’t help but think most of the play’s humour relied heavily on dated gender-assigned roles and its gimmick-worthy implications.
But as I admired Lorenzo Savoini’s exquisitely detailed retro set of an Upper West Side apartment in 1960s Manhattan, it hit me: I was watching a period piece. Weird as it is to admit a Neil Simon play can be categorized alongside, say, Tennessee Williams, it’s true. The ‘60s is one of those bygone eras, one we can learn to appreciate for what it was, and not necessarily one we need to integrate into what is.
After I made my peace with that, I enjoyed Soulpepper’s production. As usual, Soulpepper delivers high quality heatre, decorated with integrity, exuberance and splendid performances. Albert Schultz’s Oscar is the ideal slob with a heart of a gold; Diego Matamoros creates a vulnerably sweet Felix; the kind you want to cuddle and shelter from the big bad world (so I could understand why the Pidgeon sisters, played fantastically by Raquel Duffy and Michelle Monteith, took to him so). The dynamic chemistry between Schultz and Matamaros is what makes the show heavy on the sincerity and light on the schmaltz; there’s a palpable affection in both the jabs and the apologies. The quartet of poker players (Derek Boyes, Kevin Bundy, Oliver Dennis and Michael Hanrahan) is very strong as well, making the most of their scenes with shared impeccable comic timing.
Though The Odd Couple doesn’t surprise, Neil Simon remains the master of one-liners, and to witness superb actors attack his zingers with zest is always a pleasure.
The Odd Couple, Yonge Centre for the Performing Arts, 416-203-6264. Runs until Nov. 19.
