Marital Mayhem and
Matrimonial Mishaps:
My First Ex-Husband’s Second Cast
Delivers Divorce Tales with Bite
“Do you take this man — To have and to hold — from this day forward — for better, for worse — for richer, for poorer…?”
Half the time, after a while, a woman will take a moment to reconsider, put her marriage on hold, and ultimately decide not to move forward—because there’s been more “worse” than “better,” and divorce is the best course. To have and to hold onto the bad memories of irritations and lousy situations is human nature; they can’t be shed as easily as a wedding ring. But a survivor’s tales of troubles in paradise—the headaches and heartaches, badness and madness—can be both relatable and laughter-inducing when viewed with 20/20 hindsight and the right mix of wryness, rage, relief, and recovery. What might be mere ranting and raving in real life becomes ha!-ha!-hilarious when scripted, turning spouses into divorce-worthy duds and dopes, with anecdotes sharpened by the metaphorical knives of sharp comic timing. That’s what happens—often and effectively—in the series of monologues called My First Ex-Husband, based on interviews with actual ex-wives.
The interviewer/playwright is the acerbic Joy Behar, whose script-writing pencil benefits from her experience in three key categories: as a stand-up comic, as a commentator on human nature (logging years of expressing views on TV’s The View), and—last but not least—as someone who’s had and not held one husband before taking the marital plunge again. In a filmed introduction setting up the live show at MMAC Theater, she explains the project’s origins, noting the prevalence of divorce and her fruitless attempts to get balance by interviewing previously married men. They’d grouse a sentence or two and clam up. It was a different story when women spoke—they told all, in detail. How much artistic license Behar took—adding, padding, subtracting, replacing, embellishing with relish, or creating from whole cloth—is her prerogative and the audience’s pleasure. After all, who knows if truth is stranger than fiction when it comes to friction in fractious relationships?
Directed by Randal Myer, this is the second New York City cast for My First Ex-Husband. Designed for four actresses, each plays two contrasting characters, evenly dividing the eight monologues. There’s no interaction per se, but the other three women remain seated on the smallish stage—arguably an unnecessary obligation, perhaps even a distraction—as each character’s tale of woe and wit unfolds. The performer stands, script in hand, but makes ample eye contact, looking up while looking down on the males of the species. Across 90 intermissionless minutes, the volume of verbiage delivers zingers, pithy lines, and moments that might be thought-provoking or irritation-provoking. Just like the marriages these women put up with, some descriptions of them may seem to go on past their prudent shelf life. If the devil is in the details, the devil’s devilish humor often delivers.
Susan Lucci bookends the evening with the first and final monologue, performing both with aplomb. In the first, she adopts a thick accent that, in a good way, accentuates the impact of her character’s whining about years spent with an excessively frugal man—one who replaced his car’s hubcaps with aluminum pie plates and took in stray cats to share the marital bed, using feline body heat as a free substitute for turning up the thermostat. Later, she shifts to a very different tale, “Get Off of Me”, detailing a husband whose daily desire for lengthy bouts of sex was unquenchable, unreciprocated, and exhausting. Irreverent and not for the squeamish, Lucci’s frank and forthright lament launches some audience members into gales of laughter while leaving others gasping. (Some characters pepper their speeches with four-letter words that once were taboo but are now increasingly ubiquitous and casually tolerated.)
Judy Gold, known for her blunt comedic style and sharp observational humor, brings those skills to her monologues, portraying women determined to stand up to those who would keep them down. Her pieces include a domineering, disapproving mother and an Orthodox Jewish family pushing a naïve, nervous girl into an arranged marriage. One saga follows a character discovering that a relationship with another woman is more satisfying than her marriage to a man (“Another female doesn’t need to be a detective to find your G-spot”). These monologues seem tailor-made for Gold, whose past autobiographical material has explored her experiences as a member of the queer community and as a Jewish mother (and daughter). While she’s often known for brashness, the writing here allows her to show vulnerability, making her performances feel deeply resonant beyond the specifics of the situations.
Tonya Pinkins is a live wire, using varied vocal dynamics, mobile facial expressions, eye contact, and exasperated gestures—waving arms, impatient sighs—to heighten the humor and emotional shifts in her monologues. She expertly builds steam as her characters’ tolerance and trust are tested: one woman’s husband disappears for hours at odd times, claiming to be performing comedy improv. Another ruefully learns that there’s no real peace when living with a drummer.
At the March 7 performance, the fourth member of the cast, Cathy Moriarity, struggled a bit, losing her place in the script. Admirably, she pressed on, but she most likely was ailing, ultimately being replaced with understudy Lana Young—who covers all roles—calmly stepping in to finish the second monologue magnificently. Veanne Cox, slated to join the show in the next cast on March 26, has joined this current casting, which departs March 23.
The claustrophobic connubial conditions include husbands who ask for a wife’s blessing to be non-monogamous—or take that liberty without asking. One wife, an actress, finds the phone number of her husband’s mistress, who blurts out that she’s a big fan. Another woman’s husband takes to wearing women’s clothes more and more. Some men’s sources of income are apparently not legal. Most don’t win points for sharing or caring much. And for at least one wife, the marriage ends in death.
While My First Ex-Husband might be thought of as putting the “moan” in “matrimony,” and might leave audiences wondering why these women stayed with such men for so long, it ultimately delivers a good time—if you don’t take everything too seriously. That job is best left to a skilled therapist, or perhaps a marriage counselor with magical powers, including the ultimate last resort: waving a wand that makes a disappointing husband disappear.
MMAC Theater
248 West 60th Street
another cast takes over March 26, 2025
for tickets and info, visit Ex-Husband
