“Art” was a mile marker in the last quarter-century’s march toward bad-faith argument as popular entertainment, which is another way of saying—I can’t laugh at it now. The setup, at least, is tidily comic. Serge (Harris), a shallow dermatologist with deep pockets, pays three hundred thousand dollars for a white-on-white minimalist painting. It’s by an artist, he says proudly, collected by the Centre Pompidou, but when he shows the canvas off to his longtime friend, the aeronautical engineer Marc (Cannavale), Marc says it’s “shit.” The two then badger their go-along-to-get-along friend Yvan (Corden) for his opinion, maybe because they’re tired of hearing him complain about his upcoming marriage. Yvan, who has recently landed in the stationery business, arrives onstage while delivering a bravura monologue about wedding-invitation drama, by far the funniest moment in this production. It also momentarily unites his bickering friends: “Why do you let yourself be fucked over by all these women?” Marc asks, as Serge nods. At least Serge and Marc will always have misogyny.journey-inline-newsletterinline-newsletter