Amen, Roscoe. It's thin gruel indeed, seemingly created with stencils traced from WIT, WHEN HARRY MET SALLY, WHOSE LIFE IS IT ANYWAY and AMEDEUS. A pity Jane Fonda couldn't return to Broadway in something more substantial than this checklist of clichés masquerading as a play.
She plays a terminally ill Beethoven scholar who has a burning urge to discover the reason for a long gap in the creation of the 33 Variations. Of course, being a bookish scholar, she’s a cold, distant mother and has a prickly relationship with her sullen, rudderless daughter. The scholar has a goofy male nurse who hooks up with the daughter sledgehammer cute, and have an even more heavy-handed Nora Ephron moment a few scenes later.
The archivist who assists the Beethoven scholar is a stern, humorless starchy bureaucrat (of course, she’s
German!) who meets the scholar later in the most contrived circumstance. Of course, the archivist later warms to the scholar who is
physically falling apart and hasn't got much time left!!!
Beethoven and his much harried assistant-servant pop in and out of the proceedings. You can tell Beethoven is a great composer as he shuffles around the stage doing the whole 'mad-irascible--passionate-bellowing-wild-eyed-genius’ shtick and of course he's obsessed and has to write more and more variations because
he’s physically falling apart and hasn’t got much time left! It's recycled pap for theater snobs.
"Hurry up and get into your conga clothes - we've got to do something to save this show!"