Theater review
860
Ninety minutes with no intermission. At the Imperial Theatre, 249 W. 45th Street.
There are very few comedians left who can do what Billy Crystal can do. Almost none. Stand-ups who talk about the news tend to pick finger-pointing, strident activism or irony, like they’re auditioning for a spot on “The Daily Show.”
But what the extraordinary Crystal manages in “860,” his latest one-man Broadway show that opened Wednesday night at the Imperial Theatre, is a feat. He takes the devastating 2025 Palisades fire in California, and the total destruction of his family’s cherished home that they lived in for 46 years, and makes it funny.
Not the blaze itself, of course. He rightly treats the disaster with solemnity, stress and disbelief. Based on the freshness of the performance I saw, I reckon he hasn’t fully moved on from those difficult January days. Crystal could have written this show as therapy as much as for our entertainment.
However, his memories contained on the photo-and-memorabilia-covered walls of his home office, which has been rebuilt onstage, are hysterical. And sometimes heartbreaking.
He takes the audience on a moving and breakneck tour — of his framed snapshots with celebrities, the door of his childhood bedroom in Long Beach, NY, he was given as a gift and of hilarious events like his fateful gig in upstate New York opening for the band “Blood, Sweat & Tears” when frontman David Clayton-Thomas refused to go on.
Those physical remnants of his life and long career are ash now, so what’s left are stories.
And the crowd is rapt for them all. At 78, Crystal is still a generational performer. A friend said to me after, “I felt like I was at dinner with him.” He and director Scott Ellis turn the same barn that just hosted the musical “Chess” into an intimate get-together. Between the appetizer and the main course, though, the situation gets painful.
For a while, I grappled with the structure of “860,” which begins with Crystal and his wife Janice racing to their daughter’s house in 2025 as their imperiled neighborhood is evacuated before segueing into fabulous showbiz tales. What does losing a home have to do with fond remembrances of Muhammad Ali, Robin Williams and Rob Reiner?
A lot, actually. In the 21 years since his last hit solo outing on Broadway, “700 Sundays,” those three dear friends have all died, two in truly horrible ways. Particularly when he begins to talk about Reiner, who was killed less than a year ago, and the off-camera fun of making “When Harry Met Sally,” we realize that not only does Crystal need to talk about these men publicly, but, like with 860 Chautauqua Blvd., he desperately needs to hold onto the good times. Not the bad.
That’s what the audience wants, too.
There are a few fleeting moments when Crystal goes off track. He makes easy jabs at Donald Trump, Joe Biden and Kash Patel that, wherever you feel about those guys, feel out of place in an otherwise lovely and gentle show about friends and family.
And in the end, that’s what “860” focuses on. The comedian recalls an early point in his career when a talent agent told him to talk more about himself to make his mark. So, he wrote material about being a stay-at-home dad, and it worked.
In that spirit, the final act of “860” is all about his last few years in the Pacific Palisades house. His 50th wedding anniversary was during COVID, so his kids and grandchildren turned his backyard into a restaurant and played waiters.
And, after the horrors of the abode burning down, there are tiny miracles. His World Series rings survived. And so did a rock from his office with a useful word carved into it: “Laughter.”
Against all odds, Crystal is again bringing a lot of that to Broadway.
