Deuce-engaged

Based on the scuttlebutt, I was expecting "Deuce" to be spectacularly awful. It wasn't. That didn't stop it from being spectacularly boring in spots.

Really, there's not much of a point for me to pile on any more than the "real" critics already have. They were mostly right. Angela Lansbury and Marian Seldes remain at the top of their game despite the material Terrence McNally dealt them. I'd never play these ladies in poker, as they could probably beat me with a pair of threes in their hand.

The script -- centering around the reflections of Midge and Leona, two retired tennis pros -- is sloppy in its characterization of its leads, subjects us to amorphous secondary characters for pointless exposition and drags on about half an hour longer than it should. Little is revealed over the course of the play, and what is revealed is given so shaky a context that we don't really care. One of the prime shocking moments was supposed to be when Lansbury uses the word "cunt," but truth be told, I'd mentally checked out by then and didn't even catch it until she said it for a second time. One can only hope these ladies get material worthy of them for a true Broadway swan song.

But I found another level on which to enjoy this production. At one point, Midge and Leona recall their final match, an exposition game against two former male pros by then in their 60s, which was an easy win for the gals but hardly a spectacular exit. Maybe this whole play is a larger metaphor for how we treat older actresses, giving them roles like this, or rapping grannies, or crusty old neighbors or Depends commercials in their later years.