Pity poor Sam, a struggling actor who must make ends meet by working in the basement of a posh eatery on Manhattan’s East Side as a reservations clerk. Beleaguered by constantly ringing phones, the harried Sam must juggle a panoply of characters, temperaments, and whims on a daily basis. During the time we see Sam in playwright Becky Mode’s comedy, he is also without his boss and sidekick, Bob, who has failed to show up for work because he is interviewing for a more glamorous job at Bed, Bath and Beyond.
Such is the universe we enter when we see Fully Committed (a term with double meanings, both applicable here: the first definition is that of an actor fully in character, the second is that of a restaurant being completely booked), now running at the Royal George and showcasing the talents of former television star, Bronson Pinchot. Pinchot plays all of the characters in this manic 80-minutes, characters that include a mafioso, a socialite, a restaurant reviewer, a psychotic, foul-mouthed chef, Sam’s father, the effeminate assistant of super model Naomi Campbell, and more. This is lunacy in overdrive, and Pinchot does a great job here, nimbly moving around James Noones’ cluttered set and creating characters who are, by turns, poignant, demanding, insane, and subtly threatening. To Pinchot’s credit, he makes each of the myriad characters he brings to life unique: we always know who’s speaking and have no trouble following the transitions. Pinchot creates a whole cast of different voices, vocal inflections and mannerisms that are truly astounding. The humor, which varies from extremely funny to leaden, mostly works because of Pinchot’s “commitment” and his comic timing.
Pinchot’s abilities aside, the play, albeit brief and high energy, begins to lag about halfway through. The frantic pace and the whole house of cards list of problems and personalities begin to border on irritating. The problem is that once we’ve been exposed to all of the characters, they become stale and the whole enterprise, although clever, is basically a one-joke piece. As such, it’s better suited to a 15-minute skit, rather than the padded out version on display at the Royal George.