‘Private Lives’ makes profound comment about real love

Strange how potent cheap music is!" bemoans the intelligent, rich, beautiful, self-absorbed Amanda in Noel Coward's "Private Lives," and we come to know exactly what she means.

Amanda (Carol Linnea Johnson) is trying to get over her divorce from the love of her life and equally self-absorbed Elyot (Don Burroughs) by marrying the safe, stiff, uninspiring Victor (Michael Brusasco). Elyot's had the same idea. He's married the noodle-headed Sibyl (Katie Whetsell).

Unbeknownst to any of them, they are honeymooning in side-by-side swank hotel rooms. All four undergo major changes in their relationships, and how it all ends up makes for one of the funniest endings in modern theater.

Coward's a legend for witty dialogue, and rightfully so, but he also has some profound things to say here about love. Amanda and Elyot want to be together but also want control over their lives. Coward argues that while real love is the only path to happiness, it requires the relinquishing of control. And with that may come mayhem. For all of Amanda and Elyot's sophistication, they swoon when they hear the "cheap music" ("Someday I'll Find You" by Coward) that is "their" song. Coward is perhaps making fun of his own, uppity reputation.

Johnson's a sometimes stunning Amanda. She fills the stage with the command of a star and projects dominance as easily as vulnerability. Brusaco's a likable stuffed shirt, and Whetsell -- so down to earth in the festival's "The Secret Garden" -- is loony to the core.

Director Joseph Hanreddy's production, though, has some major problems. The script demands enormous give and take between its two leads. But Burroughs is so miscast that give and take is impossible. The actor fakes his performance with superimposed facial expressions. He doesn't seem to personally connect with the role.

There's a lot of arguing in the script, and Hanreddy and the actors haven't been able to find enough vocal levels to prevent us from tiring out. You even grow weary of Johnson, something I thought at the beginning would be impossible.

Bill Forrester's set creates an aura of elegance in which the characters seem to belong. And there's enough hilarity to likely make the virgin viewer a Coward fan. The finale serves Coward so well that I wanted very much to forgive this show its faults.

Anthony Del Valle can be reached at DelValle@aol.com. You can write him c/o Las Vegas Review-Journal, P.O. Box 70, Las Vegas, NV 89125.