Remember the finely structured, impeccably paced, keenly perceived, and consistently funny The Odd Couple of 1965? Don't expect it here. Why playwright Neil Simon, seeking to update the script, would alter the structure, the characters, even the punchlines that have caused audiences to nearly suffocate with laughter, is sad to consider. In the play's 1960s state we met the rabid, slovenly Oscar, the skittish, persnickety Felix, their four poker-playing buddies, and, living upstairs, two English sisters named Gwendolyn and Cecily Pigeon, who at least could communicate with the men on a basic level, let alone through innuendo. We expected Felix to have an arc; that Oscar grew a little, too, evidenced Simon's mastery of character.
This new-millennium version pits a mildly irritable Oscar against a Felix beset with "mommy issues"; we know less than ever about the four other poker buddies, and the upstairs sisters are now Spanish—not Hispanic, mind you, but from Spain—and inane language gags follow. The lovely, tenderly presaged ending is gone, with the poker players now conveniently vanishing into the kitchen so that Oscar and Felix can shake hands and part.
The direction, by funnyman Peter Bonerz, eschews a sitcom rendering, but the life seems drained from the characters. Granted the director and actors stand in the shadows of giants. But the stakes seem gone—from their predicaments just as from the poker game. Oscar and Felix's now-legendary arguments about foodstuffs are just that here: bickering about the menu, not bickering about the menu that camouflages their need to burst out of their hardened shells. Without arcs or subtext, the characters have no highs and lows.
John Larroquette has a finely theatrical voice, and he nicely creates the rumpled look of Oscar. But his Oscar lacks any rawness, any edge that Felix could polish, and he is too overtly sensitive to Felix's neediness; Oscar is now merely a caring man with an occasional urge to scatter potato chips. Joe Regalbuto captures some of Felix's hypersensitivity and jitteriness, but he fails to mine many of the character's riches. For their crucial moments, the two are blocked downstage center, locked in a self-conscious, non-confrontational pairing.
Ryan Cutrona as the cigar-smoking Speed, Gregory Jbara as the Florida-bound Vinnie, Samuel Lloyd Jr. as the suffocating Roy, and Richard Portnow as the cop Murray do what they can with their newly truncated characters. Maria Conchita Alonso and Alex Meneses as the Costazuela sisters seem focused on over-selling the show's weakest comic writing, which makes it even less appealing. Designer Roy Christopher's apartment set serves competently—although a rake would be nice considering the Geffen's sightlines—but Daniel Ionazzi's lighting leaves downstage faces in distracting darkness.
Why alter the original play? It's akin to slimming a Reubens beauty, to cheering up Tchaikovsky's symphonies. The Odd Couple was a 20th century comedy masterpiece, a sumptuous comic feast. God and Mr. Simon please forgive me, but, to quote Oscar: Now it's garbage.
"Oscar and Felix, A New Look at the Odd Couple," presented by and at the Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., Westwood. Tues.-Thurs. 7:30 p.m., Fri. 8 p.m., Sat. 4 & 8:30 p.m., Sun. 2 & 7 p.m. June 19-July 21. $28-46. (310) 208-5454.