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February 2, 2025 7:31 pm

Pecking Order: Fowl Play Is Foul Play

By Steven Suskin

★☆☆☆☆ Hawkish comedy is strictly for the birds

Joy Marr and Robert Lee Taylor in Pecking Order. Photo: Carol Rosegg

There are millions of stories in the naked city, and one of the strangest was the tale of Pale Male, a red-tailed hawk that built a nest on the façade of a ritzy Fifth Avenue coop. Cooperative apartment building, that is, not as in chicken coop. Upper-crust residents of the building destroyed the nest, garnering protests from bird-watchers, animal activists ,and environmentalists including actress Mary Tyler Moore, who was also a resident of the building in question. Unlikely as it might seem, this was front-page news across the land back in 2004. It was a simpler time.

The saga of Pale Male and his mate, Lola, sounds like an at least potentially promising starting point for a comedy of manners. Robin Rice’s Pecking Order, alas, fails to soar, never takes wing, lands with a thud, remains leadenly earthbound. Pick one of the above; or, rather, all of the above. Splat!

Albert is a birdlover dreaming of a career with a wild bird rescue group while working as a union doorman at the building in question. At the first of three press previews, we were informed that actor Robert Lee Taylor, a last-minute replacement, would necessarily be working with a script in hand. Even so, Taylor offers a likable performance of what seems to be a reasonably sympathetic character.

[Read Melissa Rose Bernardo’s ★☆☆☆☆ review here.]

Not so the other six characters in this American Bard Theater Company production, all of which, alas, border on stereotypes. There’s a young Italian hustler of a doorman, Tony, except he calls himself “Brandon,” who reads the Post everyday.  (Contrary to common practice, we shall abstain from identifying the actors). A conceited young internet influencer named Sorrell Soffit, whose father owns the building and who is thus evil personified. Bootsie Chestnut, a celebrity resident who seems to be the author’s idea of what Chita Rivera must have been like.

There’s also Rosa, Albert’s sister, who sits in her easy chair eating MacDonald’s fries and Toblerone (but not a prop hamburger) while she develops advanced gangrene. And Helen, a pointedly Jewish neighbor of Rosa who is either aide, friend, ex-lover, swindler, or a combination of the above. And then there is someone called May, who wears a filmy sort of yellow costume and is either an imaginary friend, a bird—she doesn’t speak for most of the play, and seems to like to eat worms—or perhaps just an exceedingly strange New Yorker.

If the characters are ill-formed, so for the most part are the performances. Under the direction of Basil Rodericks, we get the impression of a group of actors in scene study class, doing the best they can on their own without directorial input. Taylor is the exception, perhaps because he hasn’t yet had time to learn his (many, many) lines. Heather Abrado, too, has some effective moments as the sister despite the material she is given. The others, though, are defeated by script, staging, and lack of modulation.

Standing out from the general tone of the piece is the imaginative and at times whimsical work of projection designer Scott Fetterman. Let us also cite whomever is responsible for the music heard throughout the evening, presumably sound designer Jeanne Travis.

Even without the evening’s myriad problems, the playwright’s reliance on malapropisms might be enough to drive some playgoers mad or at least into the lobby. “People don’t respectorate you if you don’t respecorate yourself”; the sister’s leg is going get “amputerated” unless she gets an “angioplastery” fast; another tenant is a “superlaxative” lady and on and on. (Each malaprop is repeated, for good measure.) Playgoers in search of a superlaxative evening can sure find it here.

The last three plays we’ve attended at 59E59 were enjoyable and intriguing, namely Arlene Hutton’s Blood of the Lamb, Kate Hamill’s The Light and The Dark, and Ken Ludwig’s Dear Jack, Dear Louise. So let’s dwell on those plays and not this one. Pecking Order, I’m afraid, is strictly for the birds.

Pecking Order opened February 2, 2025, at 59E59 and runs through February 15. Tickets and information: 59e59.org

About Steven Suskin

Steven Suskin has been reviewing theater and music since 1999 for Variety, Playbill, the Huffington Post, and elsewhere. He has written 17 books, including Offstage Observations, Second Act Trouble and The Sound of Broadway Music. Email: steven@nystagereview.com.

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