But a great deal of Guest's humor, in such classics of the form as "Best in Show," comes from the way he uses his medium, film, to satirize itself. Translating that idea to the stage robs it of half its deadpan fun: We're watching actors pretending to be on film, not actors being filmed, and the devices intended to evoke the camera - projections reading "Pause" and "Play," surtitles labeling the interviewees - only call attention to the staginess of the effort. It's not theatrical enough to work as a sly commentary on movies, and not cinematic enough to work as a smart extension of playwriting forms.
It's possible, of course, that Zacarías is trying to mess around with all this as a way of making some point about theater, film, and even books. But it's all a bit muddled - and the broad, lazy comedy of the story and characters argues against any kind of deeper analytical intent.
So we're stuck for two hours with the stereotypical members of this club. There's Ana, the domineering queen bee; Rob, her defeated husband with a wandering eye; Will, Rob's fastidiously prissy ex-roommate and, incredibly, Ana's ex-boyfriend (you'll never guess whom he turns out to fancy instead). And then we have Lily, the black co-worker whom Ana has invited to join the group as a way of demonstrating her multicultural sensitivities, and Jen, Ana's doormat friend who suddenly shakes things up by bringing in Alex, a guy she met in the laundry room of her apartment building.
Zacarías has some fairly amusing but overly familiar opinions about the shallowness and solipsism of young urban professionals. But she keeps her characters so busy embodying these ideas that they never become more than flat caricatures. That might be OK in a quick sketch; in a full-length play, it's too much of not enough. Meanwhile the plot twists and turns and spins out of control, in a way that's meant to be wildly silly - sudden declarations of love! crackpot bids for attention via life-threatening illness! competitive baking! - but mostly feels forced.
Director Nick Olcott keeps all this rattling along, but the actors are pushed into such cartoonish extremes that there's not much anyone can do to save them. Bhavesh Patel's manic energy and charm do brighten up the room every time his character, Alex, walks in, and Sarah Marshall has some fun with the wacky range of interview subjects she's asked to portray: a trendy New York literary agent, a Wal-Mart manager who says his store's employees are so happy with their in-house book clubs that they don't need unions, a frustrated author turned substitute teacher, and an immigrant who's learning to read after having been attacked by a shark.
Yeah, a shark. And we all know what sharks do for TV comedy.
Louise Kennedy can be reached at kennedy@globe.com.
