Of course, there are some undiscerning audience members who will find mirth in just about anything mining comedy from sex, as seemed to be the case on the night I caught this show. But for me—and I’m someone who enjoys well-done low comedy—it was a long 90 minutes.

The setting is an apartment in Sunnyside, Long Island, and co-author Cutell plays Charley Milhouse, a geezer whose birthday is celebrated with the visit of his geezer pal, Moe Crubbs, played by Bernie Kopell. Both Cutell and Kopell are known for their television work through the years, and that sets up a plus with the audience. Both characters are widowers and haven’t had sex for a long time. For Moe in particular the idea would be like waking the dead. But Charley presses him into reluctantly agreeing to call a hooker service for a why-not-live-a little evening. And with Viagra available disguised in an Aspirin bottle, things can be looking up. Meanwhile the scene is set with jokes about the indignities of growing old.

The waiting guys have fallen asleep on the sofa by the time the buzzer sounds. Instead of the two girls promised, only one arrives, explaining that her friend has been arrested, which scares Moe. But the hooker who does show up, Jacqueline Tempest, is some bundle as played by the excellent Teresa Ganzel. She is very tall, leggy, busty and perfectly attuned to the old burlesque stuff, like talking about her eyes as her shorter admirer faces her bosom.

Ganzel, who is a good comic actress, also amuses with facial twitches after she mistakenly takes Viagra. She is funny as she talks about Jacqueline’s quest for education and delivers the set-up for a wan political joke: “They might make me Secretary of Intercourse.” Charley says, “Why Not? We’re getting screwed every day.”

And so it goes. After retreating into the unseen bedroom with Jacqueline, Moe emerges later, pants around his ankles--a resurrected man. The bit is visually funny, thanks to Kopell’s acting prowess. But it only serves to illustrate how strained much of the other humor is. Even worse, there’s a stab at sentimentality and a dopy curtain call meant to be endearing.