IRS Fails to Tax Imagination

Love Sex and the IRS

Directed by Steve Libutti

At Kirkland House

CURRENTLY PLAYING in the Kirkland House Junior Common Room, Love, Sex and the IRS is as incongruous a play as its title suggests. It is both slipshod slapstick comedy and farfetched farce about two roommates, their girlfriends, their landlord, one of their mothers and an IRS agent.

The play's plot is relatively simple--Jon Trachtman (Jim Cairns) has listed his male roommate as his wife for income tax purposes. Conveniently, Jon's roommate happens to be named Leslie (Wayne Snodgrass). After years of cheating the government out of money that, "they didn't deserve anyway," Jon is warned of an impending audit. Apparently, Leslie correctly listed his sex as male before moving in with Jon. And, IRS inspector Floyd Spinner (Mark H. Levine) is sent out to their apartment to investigate. The rest of the play is loosely based on what happens when Leslie dresses up in drag to avoid a jail sentence for perjuring on an IRS form.

The love and sex part of the title is served as a side course. Basically, to give the appearance of a fully-developed plot, the author threw in a girlfriend for each of the male leads and added a surprise visit from Jon's mom, Vivian Trachtman (Beth Steinhorn).

As one can guess, there is a great deal of unnecessary filler used to pad the otherwise flat main idea. For example, too much of the plot revolves around Leslie's attempt at cooking dinner for the IRS agent and his would-be mother-in-law (what else would a wife do?). The dish, 'mung-chowder gumbo' is like much of the play's intended humor--it never materializes. Aside from the failed attempts at comedy, the play strives to excite some reaction from an otherwise limp audience with a series of sexist jokes. Lines such as "you're my kind of woman...drunk" manage to elicit the requisite Ms. Manners half-smile and hollow titter from a tired audience.

ALTHOUGH THE PLAY is technically very smooth, the acting is spotty. Even when the script offers good lines--a rare though welcome treat--the delivery often falters. By far the most refreshing work is done by Joe Walsh in portraying a stereotypical ex-jock turned landlord. Walsh adds some genuine hilarity to the play's forced jokes and frustrated humor.

Another bright spot in the generally dull show is actress Beth Steinhorn who plays the archetypal nagging mother. Steinhorn delivers litotes on the apartment's less than impressive decor such as "amazing what you can find at garage sales these days" with deadpan motherliness. Steinhorn also helps move the play along--surprisingly needed for this short drama.

When the final curtain eventually comes down--in metaphor only, as the Kirkland JCR is not well-equiped theatrically--the audience is left with a sense of relief and sadness. One is relieved that the troubled play has concluded and has even provided a moral--"try and cheat the government and look what happens." However, one is also saddened by the realization that the Kirkland House production was pretty much doomed from the start. Given the uncohesive script, with its shoddily constructed plot and poorly developed characters, the present production deserves at least an "A" for effort.

And, despite its many drawbacks, Love, Sex and the IRS can provide a relatively fun evening compared to most other possibilities on the Harvard entertainment horizon. Working without much foundation, the cast manages to construct an acceptable comedy; however, the whole performance needs major repairs if it is to be called true entertainment. If you're interested in something exciting, stay home. But if you'll settle for the merely average give it a shot. It might be a kind of play that appeals to the masses--mediocre to the core.