James Corden, Neil Patrick Harris, and Bobby Cannavale in Art. Photo: TK

There is an art to producing Art, Yasmina Reza’s clever, complex play now being on Broadway, featuring a star cast directed by Scott Ellis. On the surface, it’s an amusing work about a man named Serge (Neil Patrick Harris) who buys a modern painting that is white—totally white. He invites his best friend, Marc (Bobby Cannavale), to his Paris apartment to see it, proudly revealing that it was painted by a fashionable contemporary artist and cost $300,000. Though Serge insists there are white diagonal stripes featured on the totally blank five-by-four-foot white canvas, we don’t see them at all. Nor does Marc, who calls it “a piece of shit.”

The painting clocks a lot of comedic mileage in this three-character, ninety-minute satire. “There are degrees of white,” Serge protests, stung by Marc’s disapproval. “It’s monochromatic.” (He boasts that there are three paintings by the same artist in the Pompidou.) A third friend, Yvan (James Corden), weighs in as well, trying to be helpful, saying he can see some color in it. An added laugh is provided when the scene changes from one spare apartment to another, where we see what is hanging in each of the friends’ separate living rooms (set design by David Rockwell). Marc’s has a painting of Carcassonne through an open window (looking like an inferior copy of a post-Impressionist work). Yvan’s has a painting of a dog.

But Art is not only a satire on the pretensions of contemporary painting and the social status of its ownership. It’s about an issue that is far more serious—namely, that of male friendship. As we journey back and forth between the three men’s apartments, we learn more about their relationships. Though Marc and Serge have known each other for over twenty-five years, the cracks in their friendship are revealed—like the “white lines” that Serge insists he sees in his painting. The self-assured, opinionated Marc has dominated the passive, easily led Serge. “I’ve had to mold you,” Marc says. So Marc feels offended, even hurt, by his friend’s independent purchase of a painting that Mark sees as worthless. “I loved the way you saw me,” Marc admits to Serge about his mentor role. Serge, on the other hand, can no longer tolerate Marc’s smug condescension. Indeed, the purchase of the painting comes off as a rebellion against Marc’s need to control.

Then there’s Yvan, the pleaser of the trio—who approves of the painting “if it makes Serge happy.” In an outburst totally irrelevant to the matter at hand (the painting), Yvan delivers an emotional monologue about his upcoming wedding and the family bullying to which he’s being subjected. His anguished speech lasts almost five minutes and is met with incomprehension by his friends—and torrents of laughter from the audience, thanks to Corden’s bravura delivery. Yvan collapses in tears at the end. Instead of offering compassion, however, his friends ridicule him for being “spineless” and Marc calls Yvan’s fiancée a “gorgon,” adding contemptuous remarks about Yvan’s psychiatrist, who is giving incomprehensible advice at $200 a session.

The production’s triumph lies in the superb performances and direction. Bobby Cannavale has a challenging role as the judgmental Marc, who ultimately (and painfully) admits his need for superiority and admiration. As Serge, Neil Patrick Harris is a perfect foil, and his desperate attempt to gain dignity and independence (at quite a price) turns out to be quite touching. As for James Corden, known for his prodigious comedic skills (One Man, Two Guvnors, “Carpool Karaoke”), Yvan’s five-minute monologue, both hilarious and heartbreaking, will undoubtedly be one of the memorable moments of this theatre season.

Scott Ellis directs with the utmost precision and clarity. At one point toward the play’s end, the trio collapses into silence, exhausted following a furious fight in Serge’s apartment over the painting. Serge produces a plate of olives.  Watching each character wordlessly eat these olives (and deal with the pits, of course) is an example of supreme comedic timing and direction, even at such a serious moment.

In addition, there are moments in the script when each character breaks the fourth wall and confides in us. Ellis magnifies those brief soliloquies, evoking the play’s serious message about friendship and loneliness, especially in the final moment, when the true meaning of the white painting is articulated.

As for the fate of that painting itself, the surprise is yours to discover. Suffice it to say, it’s priceless, like the painting, and like Art itself.