Money Grubbin' Whores

The title of Sean J. Quinn's comedy Money Grubbin' Whores, now playing at the Lion Theatre at Theatre Row, gives an accurate indication of the kind of language that peppers most of its sentences. So it's odd that this play, which deals with an angry couple on the brink of divorce, does so little in the way of presenting shocking material, and despite fine performances, it doesn't fully deliver the comical high drama that its title promises.

In the basement of a pizza joint, red-faced, Irish-American Matt (Adam Mucci) and Jersey-talking, Italian-American Frankie (James Andrew O'Connor) get together to discuss Matt's impending divorce. Matt and his Israeli wife, Aviva (Carmit Levité), have opted not to go with lawyers and instead have asked friends to mediate the terms of the breakup. Matt can't believe his beautiful wife wants to split, and Frankie, a successful businessman, has all he can do to get his hysterical friend to stop shouting about how women are always after a man's money. Aviva enters with Moshe (Penny Bittone), a slick, chain-wearing smooth-talker, and then the sparks really fly when husband and wife start hurling recriminations at each other. But when Frankie and Moshe bond and go out for a toke, Matt and Aviva find a quieter moment to examine just what went wrong between them, and what still might go right.

The premise of Quinn's play — an unhappy couple using personal acquaintances as surrogate divorce lawyers — is hard to swallow, but its quirkiness would be worth buying into if it delivered a payoff. Matt's initial profanity-filled, occasionally racist shout-talk with Frankie promises just that. Mucci rages about the stage like he has just eaten a fistful of habaneros and might tip over the nearby shelves of tomato-sauce cans any minute. O'Connor, as his no-nonsense buddy, plays the practical-minded Frankie with convincing New Jerseyan bluster. Levité steals the stage in her interactions with Mucci, making us feel sympathy for the woman we'd been told was a money grubber, though her character's accent draws attention to itself when she pronounces her r's as though they've gotten stuck in her throat. Penny Bittone, as the somewhat sleazy Moshe, looks and acts the part. When he responds to questions in the affirmative, he impeccably intones an arrogant, baritone "yes."

Money Grubbin' Whores, however, loses its breath as the profanity and shouting die down. As we enter calmer waters, Quinn's characters seem all too familiar. Aviva admits to having grown distant because Matt frequently loses his temper, causing their young daughter to fear him, and Matt feels like Aviva has always been after his money. Director Brian Cichocki insulates their scene with sentimentality and drains it of urgency. Doing so makes it difficult to believe that this dysfunctional couple can suddenly speak calmly with each other and hash things out.

Where the production does succeed is in its comical scenes, which almost always feature O'Connor. Even when he and Mucci use offensive slurs (Jews, Italians, Latinas, and gays are all targets here), the insults have a jocular, simpleminded ring, eliciting uncomfortable chuckles rather than outright indignation. And Patrick Rizzotti's set contains a ridiculously high piñata that gives O'Connor and Bittone an opportunity to engage in some well-executed physical humor. As Frankie and Moshe really start to bond at the end, we wonder if the play's title really refers to that money-grubbing pair after all.