‘Heaven Can Wait,’ so must audiences

Tom Titus

To revive a vintage comedy such as “Heaven Can Wait,” a theater group

must be wary of certain pitfalls, such as an interminable scene

change late in the play which, even though it’s begun before the

preceding scene is finished, seem to take an eternity.

Audiences may recall the Warren Beatty movie version in which his

boxer character was transformed into a Los Angeles Rams quarterback,

or the cinematic oldie, “Here Comes Mr. Jordan,” with Robert

Montgomery. Segall’s over-plotted stage version is a difficult

project to produce, and this degree of difficulty extends to director

Fred Fuster’s Huntington Beach production, in which most of the

principal roles either are overacted or under performed.

Fortunately, the show revolves around a superior performance by

David Farkas as the perplexed pugilist thrust into the body of a

millionaire targeted for a premature demise by his wife and her

lover. Farkas wrestles gamely with the play’s ghastly cliches from

its 1938 time frame, but ultimately emerges victorious.

John Francis requires a more cool, confident authority in his

assignment of Mr. Jordan, the heavenly concierge assigned to set

things right. Whatever comedy is generated from “the top” comes

instead from the lively performance of Kip Hogan as his rookie

messenger who turns ineptitude into an art form.

On earth, Vanessa Ray is appealing, though a bit bland, as the

object of Farkas’ affections. Rebecca Cherkoss as his venomous wife

and Norm McBride as her accomplice both underplay their roles so

effectively that they’re hardly noticeable, thus neutralizing any

potential conflict.

If you recall Knobby Walsh from the Joe Palooka comic strip and

movies, you’ll recognize the dim bulb character enacted by Michael

Olton, manager of the pre-plane crash Joe Pendleton (Farkas), who’s

now charged with training him in his new corporate executive mode.

Olton’s dialogue is a crescendo of cliches, which the veteran actor

discharges skillfully, munching a buffet of scenery along the way.

Another impressive performance comes from Michelle Calhoun-Fitts

as a kittenish, middle-aged maid in Farkas’ new household. Robert P.

Purcell has some effective moments as a befuddled police inspector

and Ray Galindo bulls his way through the cameo of a fight trainer.

The playhouse can be commended on its ability to draw several

actors for walk-on duty in the opening segment, but this passage

could have been condensed considerably in the interest of tightening

the show. It’s bullet-paced, however, compared to the awkward

transition in Act Two from the mansion to the fighters’ dressing

room.(This problem, the playhouse declares, has since been

corrected).

At that point, “Heaven Can Wait,” and the audience has to,

shivering in the overzealous air conditioning. All in all, it’s far

from the playhouse’s finest hour.