"Okay, let me ask you something. Why are you attracted to women?"
"Because they're beautiful creatures. Every one of them is so different — their hair, their skin and their bodies are so sensual, like sculptures, and every one of them has got a different scent, plus they're sensitive and nurturing."
"Well, why do you think I'm attracted to them?"
"Because you're a lesbian!"
Trish Doolan's romantic comedy, which unfolds at a wedding shower thrown by a lesbian for her ex-girlfriend, has the overstuffed feeling of Groucho's stateroom in Night at the Opera, without the comic frisson. I counted 21 speaking roles, and about halfway through, I forgot who the heroine was.
In the first act, we meet Alex (Doolan), who begins as a dykey Mary Tyler Moore, only this time with matching Rhodas, male (Joe Tabbanella) and female (Denise Miller). Alex has been slaving in the kitchen for the past 24/7, preparing gourmet, restaurant-style dishes her bulimia won't allow her to enjoy. One of the many perplexing features of a film filled with love-starved dames is that practically nobody even nibbles at Alex's treats — in fact, in one of the many misfired gags, somebody orders out for pizza, a fairly blatant ruse to get a Kiss Me, Guido -style delivery guy in the door. "Rocco," in turn, will fall for a lesbian painter — seems they're both hot for the floor tiles at the Vatican.
It's a pity that Doolan didn't have more faith in her core idea, a long-term relationship that fizzles when the title character acquires cold feet and a boyfriend right out of the pages of Playgirl.
There is a bit of chemistry between the titular leads, Doolan and Maria Cina's April, but they're seldom alone long enough for us to appreciate whatever the hell it was they once saw in each other. But quality time is hard to come by when you have a musical floor-show by a female porn star, and a third-act visit by an upstate New York town's volunteer fire department. All the men, except Jake, the male Rhoda, feel like Playgirl models — adept at showing off their chest-hair, talking about their taste in underwear. They've probably all tried out for the dinner-theatre version of The Full Monty.
April's Shower (its 2003 copyright reflects some shelf-rot) feels like a two-hour pilot for one of those mirthless CBS comedies. Rent last year's cheeky Girl Play instead.
Opens Friday at the Roxie.