By Arlene McKanic
Noel Coward would have had a field day with the disreputable folks in Brent Buell’s new drawing room comedy, “The Gem Exchange,” given its delicious juxtaposition of big money, small treachery, upscale tippling, acerbic repartee and the war between the sexes — all played out with gleeful, unrepentant amorality.
The plot concerns Trevor Grossit, a banker who has managed to run through his money, his clients’ money and the money of his flibbertigibbet wife Alena. When he meets his old flame Shirley Barnett and her husband Ricky in a bar, he dreams up a heist that will get him out of debt.
The four of them will conspire to nab the jewels belonging to a lady Trevor believes to be a rich old matron. She’s stored the gems in one of his bank’s safe deposit boxes, so it’ll be no problem getting to them. More, the lady’s worth billions — she won’t miss them.
Oh yes, Trevor is willing to give the Barnetts a cut for their help. The dumb-as-a-post Ricky and Shirley (she’s still besotted with Trevor even though she went to slammer for five years on his behalf) can’t know the rocks are worth millions, and Trevor, in keeping with his character, offers the couple $20,000, claiming that it’s half of the take. In the meantime, the dipsy Alena kvetches and has the vapors.
Buell’s playfully convoluted plot leads to a denouement that I didn’t see coming and made me laugh out loud. Indeed, it made me want to see the play again, and pay more attention to all those little crumbs of information to which I didn’t give the proper weight during the first viewing.
The performances are simply wonderful. Tommie Moore shines as an almost charming creep who can’t possibly imagine that his plans could go awry. Traci-Ann Gibson is brilliant as Alena, the clueless, ridiculous, spoiled ex-rich girl who decides she can’t cope after all the help has left — she doesn’t even realize that you have to heat up frozen dinners before you can eat them.
One of her funniest scenes is when she dumps a jar of caviar on the floor in a fit of childish petulance — I have no idea why this scene was such a scream, but it must have something to do with Gibson’s flawless comic timing.
Naeemah Leonard gives Shirley a dry humor and intelligence, and I was surprised that this smart lady succumbs so easily to her faithless ex-lover’s machinations — until she doesn’t. Brian S. Jacobs’ Ricky is funny as the dim-witted gas station attendant who is her partner in crime. The scene where she persuades him to join her in Trevor’s scam is hilarious. After all, those diamonds were ripped from the bosom of Mother Africa, she says. Liberating them isn’t theft, but a political statement!
Buell’s direction is fluid and he and the cast are helped admirably by Darshone Bethea’s often cheerful lighting, Ovington Prophete’s sound design and Matthew Katz’ set. The action takes place entirely in the Grossit’s living room, with its leather sofa and love seat, its paisley shawl draped (I’m willing to pretend it was a paisley shawl) on a chaise lounge, its ornately framed painting, pricey rug (I’m willing to pretend it was a pricey rug) and floor lamp of glittering crystals. The set gives the feeling of a couple slip-sliding from the pinnacle into penury.
“The Gem Exchange,” produced by the York Drama Club, will have another performance at the York Performing Arts Center on Saturday at 8 p.m. By the way, keep your eye on the lovingly spotlit decanter of guava juice. Call 718-262-2000.
