And surely Doug Hughes has better plays to direct, including some by Greenberg. His production has a smooth, airy anonymity to it, like a Xerox of that old-style perfection. Except for Jill Clayburgh's warmth, Ann Guilbert's acerbity, and James Yaegashi's touching forlornness, nothing human really registers, and nobody except Clayburgh, always hovering near the kitchen area, actually seems to be living on Beatty's sumptuous Stairmaster of a set. I don't mean the evening isn't fun; I had fun. But then, I remember the '50s, when the middle class was thriving and the Republican Party was not an active threat to the future of the planet. Even a sentimentalist like me knows that life is very different now.