Neil LaBute’s characters are awful to each other. In “Fat Pig,” “reasons to be pretty,” “Your Friends and Neighbors” and other plays and films, LaBute lifted up the stone of civilized behavior to reveal the maggots writhing underneath.
Pettiness, violence and misogyny have long been his bread and butter.
So it’s natural to expect the new “The Money Shot” to be another cruel blast.
Yet the dark penny never drops: This time, comedy comes first. People behave badly, sure, but this MCC production is consistently hilarious, and the designated idiot eventually gets his comeuppance.
Zippily directed by Terry Kinney, the LA-set action takes place during a dinner party hosted by Karen (Elizabeth Reaser), a flamboyant Hollywood star, and her girlfriend, a dry-witted indie-film editor named Bev (Callie Thorne).
The women are entertaining an aging action star, Steve (Fred Weller), and his wife, Missy (Gia Crovatin), who’s 24, blond and behaves accordingly. Karen and Steve are making a movie together, and want to run a potentially graphic sex scene by their respective partners.
Not surprisingly, “The Money Shot” takes aim at the shallowness of Tinseltown. When Karen isn’t acting, she’s running a lifestyle website à la Goop, and is about to open a restaurant in Malibu called the Malibu. “I like the play on words,” she says of the name.
But the show isn’t actually a Hollywood satire. Rather, it’s about the way our culture has made it OK to be proud of being a moron.
When Bev challenges Steve — who declares that David Crosby is Bing’s son, and that Belgium isn’t in Europe — his response is merely, “Agree to disagree.” For him, everything’s a matter of opinion, and personal history excuses everything.
His wife isn’t much better. Explaining why she doesn’t want to adopt orphans from Africa, Missy says, “Black babies are cute and all that, but I just don’t trust ’em. I mean, like when they grow up.”
Steve is quick to clarify. “That’s not racist! That’s from experience and that just makes it a fact.”
Though their stupidity often stretches credibility, the actors are persuasive.
But it’s Reaser and Thorne — late of “The Twilight Saga” and “Necessary Roughness,” respectively — who waltz off with the show.
“No more drama!” Reaser cries with Norma Desmond-like flair, while Thorne gives a master class in slow burn: You can almost see the steam coming out of Bev’s ears.
Yes, the show is broad, its targets obvious.
Don’t worry: You’ll be too busy laughing to notice.
