★★★★½
Willie Clark still gets Variety delivered. His nephew brings it around, and the old vaudevillian checks the obituaries. When the bookings stop coming, there is always the satisfaction of outliving the competition.
It is a wonderfully sour detail in Neil Simon’s The Sunshine Boys, like the milk he’s forgotten to drink in the fridge. Adelaide Repertory Theatre’s production, directed by Peter Goers, finds the loneliness beneath such small victories. These men once had audiences; now they have afternoons to get through.
First staged on Broadway in 1972, Simon’s comedy reunites estranged vaudeville partners Willie Clark and Al Lewis for a television special. They have not worked together for eleven years. Willie has spent much of that time rehearsing his grievances.
Their professional name promises something brighter. The Sunshine Boys are in their twilight, still negotiating the loss of noon. Al has his New Jersey porch; Willie has a window in a New York residential hotel. The sun goes down from either vantage point.
Usually, the great struggle in stories about performers is ‘making it.’ Simon considers the less encouraging possibility that you might make it and still end up here. Success provides no exemption from ageing. Nor does applause necessarily prepare you for its absence.
Robert Cusenza carries most of the action as Willie, balancing cantankerousness with the comic instinct that once earned his character a living. Willie can turn almost any conversation into an argument, like Frank Costanza from Seinfeld. Cusenza keeps those arguments entertaining while allowing us to see how little else Willie has.
He rarely leaves his apartment. His forgetfulness suggests possible cognitive decline, but his isolation has another cause. What is waiting outside if nobody wants to employ him? He never agreed to retire. Al made that decision, and Willie has been living with the consequences ever since.
The travelling case at the centre of the set make that loss tangible. Covered in stickers, they have become a desk. Objects once packed for the next engagement now furnish a life that has stopped moving.
The television supplies company and fresh material for professional contempt. Willie watches other people telling stories and measures their abilities against his own. Even without an audience, he remains in the business.
Robin “Smacka” Schmelzkopf gives Al a contrasting dignity. He has found other things to discuss and reasons to feel proud, including his daughter’s large black Chrysler. Willie struggles to locate any equivalent outside his career. References to his absent wife suggest another loss, although its place in his unhappiness remains elusive.
That contrast prevents the play from becoming a general lament about getting old. These men have responded differently to the same professional ending. Al has allowed his world to expand beyond the act. Willie has allowed his to shrink around its absence.
Their first reunion is especially well handled. Pauses, silence and physical comedy give the meeting its uncomfortable rhythm. Each man must deal with the actual person standing before him after years of arguing with the version in his head.
Cusenza and Schmelzkopf understand how an old partnership survives in habits neither participant particularly enjoys. Irritation itself becomes familiar company. Their timing lets us glimpse the successful act beneath the accumulated resentment.
Tom Tassone is suitably exasperated as Willie’s nephew and agent, Ben Silverman. With something of a young Tony Soprano about him, he faces the exhausting overlap between family obligation and professional responsibility. Getting Willie work is difficult enough. Getting him to cooperate may be worse.
The New York accents are convincing across the cast. They give Simon’s exchanges their necessary rhythm without making the dialogue difficult to follow.
Lauren Thiel is perfectly cast as the nurse in the vaudeville sketch. Her experience in burlesque, comedy and dance serves a role requiring confidence as much as glamour. She is a knockout, with the timing to make the old routine’s gender expectations part of the joke.
The distinction between her sketch nurse and the registered nurse played by Penni Hamilton-Smith also matters. One belongs to the men’s theatrical fantasy; the other to the practical business of ageing. Jonathon Holds, Seth Gilmour and Goers complete the supporting stage cast.
There is personal history behind the production’s affection. In his program note, Goers writes about approaching this play at 70. His collaborations with Cusenza and Schmelzkopf stretch back roughly half a century and more than four decades respectively.
Cusenza’s program interview offers an even plainer connection. Asked about future dream roles, he says: “I’m just happy that I’m still wanted.”
That admission stays with the performance. Over the past four years, Goers’ directing has repeatedly explored the golden age of theatre and radio, artistic ego, biting wit and mortality. This production brings those interests together with a golden glow.
A few choices could be sharper. Cusenza’s pyjamas establish Willie’s withdrawal, but greater comic dishevelment would strengthen the contrast with Al’s composure. Occasionally, a flatter delivery would also let Simon’s lines land harder. Some jokes need less assistance.
The projected theatre behind the set is more distracting. Early lighting changes fill it during Willie’s recollection of his glory days. Afterwards, it remains empty, a clear image of the audience he has lost. Yet its digital appearance sits awkwardly against the physical room and intermittently weakens the illusion.
The script presents a more substantial complication. As Cusenza acknowledges in the program, parts have aged poorly. Al’s hand gestures describing the ideal nurse make that immediately apparent. Some gender and racial humour now carries baggage beyond the joke Simon intended.
There is an apt discomfort here. A play about men overtaken by changing tastes has itself been overtaken in places. Admiring Simon’s craftsmanship need not mean pretending every routine travels comfortably into the present.
Goers makes a persuasive case for returning to it nonetheless. The laughs are plentiful, but the production’s lasting appeal comes from recognising what Willie fears. Losing the job also means losing somewhere to go, someone to argue with and a reason to get dressed.
He wants another booking. What he needs may be sitting opposite him, equally old and equally annoying.
The Sunshine Boys is presented by Adelaide Repertory Theatre and runs to 19 September. Arts Theatre, 53 Angas Street Adelaide SA 5000.
Tickets: https://artstheatresa.sales.ticketsearch.com/sales/salesevent/159440
Website: https://adelaiderep.com/season-2026/the-sunshine-boys
Socials: https://www.instagram.com/theadelaiderep/
Photo credits: Andrew Trimmings
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