Like a memorable meal, the play An Empty Plate in the Cafe du Grand Boeuf makes one eager for more. Each course is such a delight that one scarcely knows where to begin. In the first place, it's astonishing that a company such as Bialystock and Bloom could be capable of creating this fragile souffle of a play. This troupe is best known for its ribald comedies, including Psycho Beach Party and Bat Boy: The Musical. Then comes Empty Plate, a play you could take your grandmother to! (Well, certain grandmothers.)
At the center of this PG-rated plot is an unhappy, middle-aged multimillionaire, called Victor. The time is 1961. About a dozen years ago, Victor created the finest cafe in the world, devoted solely to fulfilling his appetite for the world's best cuisine. The staff is on-call 24/7. Each night, they wait for their sole customer to appear. Whenever Victor enters, they swiftly spring into action. Everything moves with choreographed precision. However, this time is different. When Victor sits down at the lone table, he reveals that he has come, not to eat, but to starve himself. The cause of this decision is unknown. However, the fact that Victor shows up dateless hints that his melancholy may be linked to romance. Thrown into a panic, the staff tries to regain its composure. The stuffy head waiter huffs. The waitress, stuck in an unhappy marriage herself, sympathizes. The chef throws a tantrum. Only the new busboy, a gangly, acne-covered youth who stutters, seems to take in the situation with aplomb.
Victor wants to devote the evening to telling the story of his life. The staff protests until Victor comes up with a unique solution. The chef may prepare a succulent meal of his choice, but it must stay in the kitchen. Instead, each course will be described to Victor in detail. Settling back in his chair, Victor reveals the back-story of his life. We learn of his early years as a publishing baron's son, his love of the newsroom, and his connection to a fellow newsman named Ernest Hemingway. As it turns out, Hemingway just died that very week. The fact that the world-weary Victor fancies himself as somehow connected to Hemingway is absurd. The ruggedly handsome Hemingway was known as a "man's man," equally at ease in a bar or on a hunting safari. The overweight, bald and stylishly challenged Victor feels inferior.
As the restaurant staff gets used to this unconventional evening, they begin to open up to Victor. The waitress, Mimi, tells her sad story of unfulfilled love, as does Claude, the headwaiter, and Gaston, the chef. The busboy, still not knowing where he fits into this entire situation, takes notes on his memo pad.
The success of this play hinges on whether each actor gets his or her stereotype down pat. Luckily, they do. As Claude, William Clifford serves up a headwaiter that exhibits the expected savoir-faire. Mimi's character, though less well defined, tends to be somewhat shrill in the hands of Beth Johnstone Bush. Scott Howland, as Gaston, does a "slow burn" that gets more laughs than it should. Eric Price, as Antoine, is wonderful as the geeky acolyte. In one of the final scenes, Victor's love interest shows up. Tiffany Boeke, playing the girlfriend, does a neat turn in tying up loose ends. Jonathan West portrays Victor in a way that both charms and offends. One moment you want to hug him; the next, you want to wring his neck. West earns our admiration for creating such a fully dimensional character.
The lovely set makes the most of a few well-chosen set pieces and props, creating an atmosphere of elegance on a postage stamp-sized stage. One comes away from Plate with a sense of getting a full meal -- and a very entertaining evening at the theater.
