Barnes (Noah Weisberg) and Cellino (Eric William Morris) in a rousing rendition of “800-888-8888!”
If you’re of an age, you can’t forget it: That jingle, insistently catchy, as maddening as the one for the Mister Softee truck. “Cellino & Barnes! Injury attorneys! 800-888-8888!” It first appeared in 1998, haunted generations, and if Roy Cellino Jr. and Steve Barnes had not squabbled their empire into dissolution shortly before Barnes crashed his plane in 2020, we might be listening to it yet.
Cellino gains the upper hand in an argument, as usual.
There’s surprisingly little about the two lawyers—it’s a struggle to resist saying “shysters”—online, so how much of Cellino v. Barnes, Mike B. Breen and David Rafailedes’s little comedy at the Asylum Theater, has anything to do with reality is an open question. What’s irrefutable is that its Cellino, Eric William Morris, and Barnes, Noah Weisberg, appear to be having a blast. From the moment Aiden Bezark’s lighting—red, for nefariousness, no doubt—rises, the pair establish a merry rhythm. They bat each other’s lines back and forth at warp speed and invest what’s essentially a small office comedy (the set, by Riw Rakkulchon, is mostly stacked file boxes) with go-for-broke physical business. Morris’s Cellino jerks his limbs like a tortured marionette, poses like the male model he imagines himself to be, and is seldom not running, skipping, or fuming. Weisberg’s Barnes, who resembles the genuine article to a startling degree, is the saner and more composed of the two, but that’s a very low bar.
“The plotting travels to some odd places ... but there’s usually a good laugh down each alleyway.”
How they jabber! And curse! And come up with morally suspect schemes to wring millions of dollars out of defendants who may or may not be guilty of anything, then millions more out of exorbitant plaintiffs’ fees. Breen’s and Rafailedes’s writing is quirky from the start, with the two meeting for the first time and Cellino inquiring, “You’re Steve—Steve, am I saying that right?” Their personalities spill out: Cellino, an unloved son working at his father’s prestigious firm, has severe daddy issues. He’s always after scoring big, in the least effortful way possible. Barnes is a more conventional practitioner, but he admires Cellino’s unbridled chutzpah.
In a hilarious spoofing of theatrical telescoping, Cellino interviews Barnes, hires him, the pair launch their own firm, come up with the idea of advertising their new business aggressively (benches, billboards, that damned jingle), and win a spurious $2 million case—in one afternoon. They’re happy, rambunctious, quarrelsome kids. The dialogue, several stations removed from reality, has a lively sketch-comedy feel. Barnes: “We don’t know anything about advertising. We didn’t major in marketing. We’re not geniuses. We didn’t go to Syracuse.” Cellino: “If there’s anything I know for sure, it’s that when a 30-year-old white guy from corporate America dabbles in music, it’s always really good!” Deep the writing isn’t. But it’s pretty consistently smile-inducing.
Barnes uncovers some Cellino legal skulduggery. Photographs by Marc Franklin.
They argue and argue—over procedure, ethics, Cellino’s unfortunate loan-sharking habit—and Morris and Weisberg bring considerable variety to their delivery. Part of that’s probably the direction of Wesley Taylor and Alex Wyse, who encourage rampant physicality and never met a double take they didn’t like. It’s bro comedy, and the fervent pacing is right for it. The plotting travels to some odd places—a protracted discussion about pure white vs. alabaster toilets, Barnes’s wild expansion plans (Cellino & Barnes ambulances, a Cellino & Barnes hospital, Cellino & Barnes lawyers wielding the scalpels)—but there’s usually a good laugh down each alleyway.
There’s a needless coda about a Cellino & Barnes boxing match, too, and the occasional anachronism (a cell phone, in 1996?) or thudding punch line may give one pause. But Cellino v. Barnes comes off as an extended pretty-good SNL sketch, one that sustains itself with admirable vigor for its 75 minutes. And in Eric William Morris and Noah Weisberg, it has a Cellino and a Barnes that would leave the American Bar Association permanently traumatized.
Mix & Match Productions’ Cellino v. Barnes runs through Oct. 13 at the Asylum Theater (123 E. 24th St.). Evening performances are at 7 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday; matinees are at 3 p.m. Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday. For tickets and more information, visit cellino-v-barnes.com.
Playwrights: Mike B. Breen & David Rafailedes
Directors: Wesley Taylor & Alex Wyse
Scenic and prop design: Riw Rakkulchon
Costumes: Ricky Lurie
Lighting: Aiden Bezark
Sound: Chiara Pizzirusso
