Pasta, Everyone?

By T. E. Kalem

SATURDAY, SUNDAY, MONDAY by EDUARDO DE FILIPPO

This is one of those high-calorie family comedies in which the. characters shout a lot, laugh uproariously, cry a little and ponder life's minor ironies over a full dinner plate. At a guess, the playgoer should arrive gorged, since the theatrical repast at Manhattan's Martin Beck Theater is just an amiable morsel.

Playwright Eduardo de Filippo is a deft entertainer who deals in stage Italians in the same way that others deal in stage Irishmen or Jews. Stage Italians are volatile, tempestuous, jealous, meltingly sentimental, arm-waving operatic hams. Right? Right.

As for the crux of the plot, Papa Peppino (Eli Wallach) is seething with suppressed virility because Mama Rosa (Sada Thompson) has denied him the full use of the matrimonial bed for some four months. Furthermore, she does not wave to him from the balcony or lay out his clean shirts and underwear in the morning. Peppino is gripped by the delusion that his wife is having an affair with a family friend, Luigi (Ron Holgate), but he is only a platonic admirer. The real culprit? Are you ready? A plate of macaroni alla siciliana. Three plates, to be exact. Peppino gobbled them down at his daughter-in-law's house and had the effrontery to praise her cooking effusively, to Rosa's mortification. After some mutual Neapolitan hysterics, the pair heals this terrible rift.

The eritire cast has a romp with this show, especially Walter Abel, 76, as a foxy, crusty grandpa. The various Italian accents are an unintentional joke, but no matter. Saturday, Sunday, Monday has the look and feel of a show that will elude critical quibbles and find a large, satisfied audience. T.E. Kalem

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.