Review: LAUGHTER ON THE 23RD FLOOR- A Poignant Examination of Entertainment Wrapped In A Damn Good Time

Laughter on the 23rd Floor

By: Neil Simon

Directed by: Leigh Wyatt Moore

Produced by: Allen Contemporary Theater

Audience Rating: PG

Running Time: Approximately 2 hours, including a 15-minute intermission

Accessible Seating: Available

Hearing Devices: Not Available

Sensory Friendly Showing: Not Available

ASL Showing: Not Available

Sound Level: Comfortable

Audio/Visuals To Prepare For: None in particular

Reviewed by: Kyle Lester

“All humor is based on hostility. That’s why World War Two was funny.” - Neil Simon

On paper, a dialogue-heavy roman à clef such as Laughter on the 23rd Floor shouldn’t be as entertaining as it is. However, playwright Neil Simon (of Barefoot in the Park and The Odd Couple fame) drew from his own experience as a television writer in the 1950’s, a decade marked by (among other things) McCarthy-led communist witch-hunts and the emergence of television as a common household appliance. That combination alone – a newly popular entertainment medium mixed with the cautious sensitivity of comedians attempting to avoid then-Senator McCarthy’s Hollywood blacklist – is an intriguing enough premise. Adding Neil Simon’s flawless character building, quick wit, and seamlessly natural dialogue, however, turns the work into a semi-autobiographical masterpiece. 

With inspiring direction by Leigh Wyatt Moore, Allen Contemporary Theater’s (ACT) production of Laughter breathes oxygen into Simon’s writing, animating the script’s wry humor, expressive characters and uncomfortable vulnerability that are trademarks of the late playwright. In this often-overlooked work, Simon lifts the curtain behind a fictional comedy program whose intelligent humor and sizable budget make it a liability to mid-50’s sensibilities. Amid waning popularity, the audience follows a staff of eclectic writers as they face budget cuts and writing revisions from host network, NBC. 

Keeping in line with a play about writers writing a TV show, Laughter employs rapid fire dialogue to explore the conundrum of delivering razor-sharp comedy to a world with thin skin. A well-cast ensemble of 9 brings Simon’s script to life with impressive charisma and precision, nailing the show’s pacing and humor as if they’ve lived it a hundred times over. Each character is a thinly-veiled homage to a real-life writer with whom Simon worked in his early career, and their distinct personalities weave together a brilliant chaos that never seems to drag. 

The show is narrated by eager rookie staff writer, Lucas (a wonderfully understated performance by Owen Wildoner). Functioning as Neil Simon’s proxy, Lucas is the most put-together member of our ensemble. Quick-witted and affable, the young writer has yet to spend enough time in the entertainment meat-grinder to be cynical. His world-weary coworkers, on the other hand, have been ground down to the nub. I won’t describe each supporting character in detail, but suffice it to say that their unique mannerisms elevate the show’s atmosphere in a way only a good performance can. Their flamboyant humor and boisterous personalities make for an unforgettable workplace, but it’s only getting harder to laugh through the chaos.

That chaos’ name is Max Prince, the increasingly-unhinged TV star and showrunner. Through a magnetic performance by Alex Eding, Prince is a well-respected veteran of the entertainment industry whose popularity is waning as America’s collective sense of humor now tends toward, as he puts it, “less sophisticated” fare. Sleepless nights and a diet of tranquilizers and scotch have turned Max into a hilariously unstable force that can only thrive in a decade lacking Human Resources departments. An imposing character, Max’s presence in the writers’ room continually puts the staff on edge. He bounds into the office with the subtlety of a paranoid dictator, unknowingly spreading a layer of eggshells for the rest of the cast to tiptoe on. In one particularly amusing sequence, Milt, a senior writer and staff quip-machine (played to perfection by Brian Hoffman), spends ten minutes stressing about the color of his suit, lest it aggravate Max’s neuroticism. But as annoying as their star can get, Max has a good reason for his defensiveness: they’re losing their fight with the network. He tries to reassure the staff in between self-righteous rants, but the proverbial writing is on the wall (next to a few holes he punched.) 

Laughter is set in a singular location: the staff writers’ room on the 23rd floor of a New York City office building. The set was designed by Director Moore and veteran supporting actor Eddy Herring, doing double duty as Val, the head writer and Soviet defector with particular wariness about the direction of his adopted country. Herring’s talent is not restricted to just performance, although he does pull off an outstanding Eastern European accent throughout the show. His and Moore’s set design threads the delicate needle of creating enough space for 9 actors while maintaining the lived-in, smoke-filled tomb our writers practically live in. Chairs centered around a conference table make up the primary set piece, with a small craft-services table offering bagels, coffee, and danishes further downstage (the breakfast choices shrink exponentially as the NBC tightens its reins on the group.) It’s easy to overlook the spaciousness of the set until Max’s unbridled engine reaches high gear. The stage seems to open up as he storms around with reckless abandon, punching holes in walls and almost knocking down the numerous celebrity photos decorating the office. It’s the perfect set for this story, and ACT’s designers portrayed it beautifully. The cast’s wardrobe is similarly fitting for the location and time period. Together, these stylistic choices build a striking world that merges a Mad Men-esque corporate office with the tangible stress and fatigue of the entertainment industry.

Laughter on the 23rd Floor is a delightfully entertaining production that makes wise use of the talent mined from the DFW theater community. Wrapped in the production’s hilarious turmoil is an examination of the intersection between artistic integrity and capitalistic motivations in the wake of a continually evolving society. It’s a tightrope we’re increasingly burdened with walking today, as evidenced by the faded handprint on Chris Rock’s face. But in a world where sanctimony is treated like a precious commodity, perhaps laughing is the most radical thing a person can do. Neil Simon’s Laughter on the 23rd Floor plays at Allen Contemporary Theater in Allen, TX through August 30, 2026.

Cheers, and I’ll see you at the next curtain!

Kyle