Stones In His Pockets |
REVIEW by Willard Manus LOS ANGELES
-- STONES IN HIS POCKETS is an actor's dream: a two-hander which calls
for each performer to play a slew of different characters. JD Cullum and
Barry McEvoy are the lucky ones in Marie Jones' bittersweet comedy about
two Irish village lads who are hired as extras (for 40 quid a day) by
the American film crew that is shooting another Quiet Man kind of story
in their backyard, replete with blarney and booze. Cullum (as Jake) and
McEvoy (as Charlie) have a ball making the character switches called for
by Jones and her director, Neel Keller. One minute they are themslves,
the next they become Caroline Giovanni, the movie star; or Simon, the
swishy assistant director; or Clem, the director; or Brother Gerard, a
local teacher. Given the opportunity to sing and dance as well (satirizing
the Irish step-dance craze of a few years back), Cullum and McEvoy put
on a wonderful show. The play itself is slight, despite a subplot that
involves another local lad, Sean, who took his life because of the arrogance
and indifference of the Hollywood folk--cultural imperialists to the core.
The subplot is less than believable, but it doesn't matter, STONES is
still funny and entertaining. |
|