The Love of My Life
Smilewide Productions at Northwest Actors Studio, 441-4149. $13 general, $10 students. Through April 13.

"It's all getting SO predictable." This line--a precious bit of poetic irony--came at least an hour into The Love of My Life. Boy, did I laugh out loud.

Do you know what two things can make a play really, really boring? First, drop a big sofa and an easy chair imposingly center stage and set all the main action there--then the actors have no choice but to sit around on their asses and blab. Second? When the play has long since made its point and SHOULD have stopped... it just keeps on going. And going. And GOING!

Now all of this wouldn't have been such a big deal, maybe... if the characters--primarily three love-hungry Casanovas living together in an overpriced Greenwich Village apartment--weren't sitting around on their asses, interminably blabbering about RELATIONSHIPS. But they were. And they did. For a long, long time. And it wasn't insightful blabbering--it was all kind of on the intellectual level of Animal House. All of the women seemed to be bitches or sluts (or both); all the guys, sleazy playas drenched in misguided machismo and manipulative and ridiculous theories about what "works" with women. They tangle themselves up in clichéd scenarios, and--just when it all seems darkest--everything is neatly wrapped up with a big "love conquers all" TADA! at the end. The whole scenario would have played out cutely and succinctly in, say, a 30-minute "Must-see TV" time slot--but for two hours? Sheesh! Not a chance.

What was good about this production? Well, a couple things. The acting was nice and solid--sometimes even clever--and the cast gave some moments of sparkle and surprise. The set was convincing and the sound was quite good. But if I was focusing on the set and the sound work, SOMETHING was amiss. So would I recommend this show? I guess... if you can contrive to show up for the last 30 minutes or so. You'll get the point and save yourself a yawn or two. ADRIAN RYAN