It makes grown men behave like teenage boys. It makes women scratch their heads.
I’m talking about the game of which the Edge’s “The Foursome” crowns Jack Nicklaus the great god. I’m talking about the husband-obsessing, wife-belittling pastime and reason that lawns across America don’t get mowed on sunny weekends. I’m talking about golf and that starts with “g” which rhymes with “whee!” that stands for fun.
This is thoroughly satisfying, lightweight comedy by Canadian playwright, Norm Foster. It formats around four buddies playing 18 holes of golf the day after their 15-year college reunion.
There is nothing special about these guys. Like most males of our species, they didn’t bother to stay in touch. So they set eyes on one another for the first time after 15 years, get reminded and figure a round of golf’s a good way to catch up. Naturally, being the simple souls most men are, they don’t figure on what catching up has in store.
The zingers zing. The stories swap. The bravado boasts. But hole-by-hole, layer after layer of personality gets peeled back. You are pretty sure you know where things are headed. But don’t get too sure. Surprises that Einstein himself couldn’t have foreseen, pop up when you least expect them.
A battery-charged Aaron Odom debuts as the backslapping, in-your-face bachelor, jokester, prankster and high-powered, super salesman of luxury yachts. Odom is obnoxious, funny and not without a serious side that ropes you in. I hope to see more of him.
A low-keyed, self-involved Zachariah Robinson debuts as the worrywart, hypochondriac and sex-starved husband to a stone-cold wife. Robinson is a mouse of a man and easy target for jokes. But don’t take him for a fool. The guy has his moments. Robinson’s a hoot. Hoping to see more of him, too.
Rick Wright adds the serious weight of a pitifully heavy-minded, childless husband struggling to live down his father’s drinking problem, which has become his own. Wright’s handling of his role is levelheaded. It anchors the production so that goings on don’t stray into slapstick and farce. A journeyman’s job, professional quality.
Brian Vyrostek’s all-around, evenly balanced, well-adjusted family man centers the foursome’s chemistry with common sense, middle-class values and a picture in miniature of a life being lived a way that most of us only dream about. Vyrostek’s performance is so comfortable, so ordinary and so perfect that it may cross over into the realm of things hopelessly surreal and naively childish. If so, it is still refreshing to see.
Nothing profound is going on here; no “Da Vinci Code,” no Riddle of the Sphinx. This is just four guys playing at that most aggravating, infuriating and at times, most gratifying of games. Golf, wow! We men just hate to love it.
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