Peter Gallagher and Julianna Margulies (with Charlie) in Left on Tenth. Photo: Joan Marcus
In Left on Tenth, Delia Ephron contends with a series of tragic events. After losing her beloved husband to prostate cancer, she reconnects with a college boyfriend, embracing the promise of love the second time around. Just as she finds new happiness, though, she learns that she has leukemia—the same disease that killed her sister and frequent collaborator Nora Ephron. While still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, Delia and her new husband, Peter, find themselves dealing with hospital stays and stem cell transplants.
Did I mention the play, which opened recently at the James Earl Jones Theatre on Broadway, is a romantic comedy? Ephron—who adapted the piece from her 2022 memoir of the same name—is a master of the genre, having supplied screenplays for classics like You’ve Got Mail. Often working in tandem with Nora, she showed a skill for mining onscreen the delicate balance between neuroses and charm found in many New Yorkers. That talent is similarly on display here in her theatrical debut. Left on Tenth is often utterly charming and sneakily moving in the same breath.
The material frequently feels like a throwback to the star-driven comedic vehicles that once were a Broadway mainstay. The production also exudes an air of old-school glamor, particularly in Beowulf Borritt’s book-lined rendering of Delia’s Greenwich Village apartment. I could sense the spectators around me swooning with envy at the spacious digs, and I couldn’t blame them. Jeff Mahshie’s costumes are similarly elegant but understated, and the lighting (by Ken Billington and Itohan Edoloyi) toggles smartly between the high key of comedy and the low glow of romance. Susan Stroman’s direction effortlessly moves the proceedings along, mirroring the trajectory of a whirlwind courtship that faces an unexpected bump.
As Delia, Julianna Margulies returns to the stage after a nineteen-year absence. In her small-screen career, she excels at locating the brooding underbelly of her characters, and that talent manifests itself here, when Delia briefly resigns herself to the possibility of losing out on her next chapter before it even begins. But Margulies tempers the dark waters with a surprisingly genuine sparkle, and she immediately earns the audience’s affection with her warm presence. She generates a sweet, effortless chemistry with Peter Gallagher, who portrays Peter as the ultimate mensch. Peter Francis James and Kate MacCluggage round out the cast in a host of small roles, all of which they play to the hilt.
Ephron seems more comfortable lingering in the light here—she floats her potential illness from the play’s first moments, but she doesn’t formally introduce it until the last half hour. Some might view her rapid recovery and return to happiness as a fait accompli. Yet and still, Ephron remains alive and well as of this writing, and she and the real-life Peter have been happily married for nearly a decade. It takes little thought to wonder why she might wish to dwell on the positive.
I didn’t expect to enjoy Left on Tenth as much as I did. I review theater, so cynicism is practically my second language. Maybe it’s because I saw it immediately after McNeal, one of the emptiest and most bloviating plays I’ve ever encountered. Maybe it’s because I didn’t pay $200 for my ticket. Maybe it’s because, as I get older, I’m starting to identify more with characters who feel the compunction to make the most of the time they have left. Maybe it’s because I love dogs, and the production features two irresistible canine actors (Honey and Charlie) as Delia’s furry companions. Whatever the reason, I bought it hook, line, and sinker.
The events depicted in Left on Tenth changed Delia Ephron’s life. The play itself might not change yours, but it makes for a winning night on Broadway.