What do you know about Cellino and Barnes? If you’ve spent time anywhere near Buffalo, New York, you might know of them as the law firm behind the insidiously catchy jingle that played for over 25 years across TV and radio: “Cellino and Barnes! Injury attorneys! 800-888-8888!”
But you don’t need to be a local to have heard this dastardly ditty; it’s spawned a celebrity-studded viral challenge, as well as a Saturday Night Live skit. Of course, their accidentally amusing billboards are a meme unto themselves. But even if you know nothing else about their sordid history, that’s more than enough to revel in every moment of the new off-Broadway comedy Cellino V. Barnes.
In the vein of contemporary off-Broadway hits like campy Celine Dion jukebox musical Titanique and Cole Escola’s Mary Todd Lincoln spoof Oh, Mary! (which has since made the leap to Broadway), Cellino V. Barnes is far less concerned with the truth behind their story, and far more focused on unleashing madcap humor upon its giddy audience. In fact, reading up on the real-life Ross Cellino and Steve A. Barnes only makes this show more remarkable. Played by Eric William Morris and Noah Weisberg, these regionally recognizable “ambulance chasers” are not the mercurial family man and the hard-nosed military vet depicted in the 2020 New York magazine exposé, which thoroughly detailed their break-up after decades together. Instead, playwrights Mike B. Breen and David Rafailedes reimagine them as an arrogant buffoon and his slyly sophisticated sidekick, determined to make big bucks through marketing… and ambulance chasing.
Over the course of just 74 minutes — with no intermission — Cellino V. Barnes spins a story that is outrageous, entertaining, and even a bit poignant.
Cellino V. Barnes reimagines its heroes in a buddy-cop comedy.
Credit: Marc Franklin
Swaggering on stage in a sharp plaid suit, suspenders, and clip-on tie, Eric William Morris instantly depicts Ross Cellino as Gordon Gecko wannabe, a “greed is good” businessman who refuses to play by the rules. By contrast, Noah Weisberg’s Steve Barnes — wearing a bright blue suit and a bald cap slicked with an unflattering ring of brown hair — is comically conciliatory, showering the hot-shot nepo baby with praise to get a job at Cellino’s dad’s firm. Where others see this slick slip-and-fall lawyer as a huckster, Barnes sees in Cellino’s shameless litigiousness — he’d even sue a dog! — a huge potential for fame and fortune.
Minutes into their meeting, they’ve not only bonded but are plotting their own law firm. And naturally, that means they need what every self-respecting attorney has: a jingle.
A pitch-perfect spoof of every bad musician biopic, Cellino V. Barnes presents the creation of the teeny tune as a moment of divine inspiration. A spotlight shines on Cellino, who has a bizarre affinity for the number eight. Then, like an angel — or “Cellino Dion” — he lets loose the unforgettable jingle, earning applause and giggles from the knowing audience. And that’s just the first half.
Eric William Morris and Noah Weisberg make a crackling comedy duo.
Credit: Marc Franklin
From the moment their characters connect over a ludicrous lawsuit, Morris and Weisberg click. With his chest out and his chin in the air, eyes wild, Morris has the gusto of a coked-up Foghorn Leghorn, whether he’s venting about his daddy issues or ranting about his deranged dedication to girls hockey. Weisberg balances this manic energy with a bouncy guilelessness, even as the pair talks loan-sharking or a particular case filing so juicy it’s basically orgasmic.
Together, the two create a fast-paced and fluid banter that ranges from bonkers bromance to brutal break-up. Playwrights Breen and Rafailedes give them the fuel with a screenplay that is relentlessly stuffed with jokes. Meanwhile, directors Wesley Taylor and Alex Wyse have created a simple staging of a few filing cabinets, a desk, and a handful of office supplies, with a near-breathless pacing. Whenever a bit runs the risk of growing stale, the play swiftly shifts, anticipating the audience’s flagging interest by presenting a new plot development or a fresh gag. And Morris and Weisberg make it all look easy as they leap across decades, from 1997 to 2007 to the 2010s, creating a compelling arc even amid the extreme silliness.
I didn’t expect Cellino V. Barnes to make my heart flutter.
Credit: Marc Franklin
Before seeing this play, I didn’t spend much time pondering the emotional weight of the break-up of Cellino & Barnes. I’d wager to say that I’m like a lot of New Yorkers, where I was mostly shocked and a bit bemused when their billboards took sides, either becoming Cellino Law or the Barnes Firm. But sitting in the Asylum theater, I found myself gasping in alarm when the two started throwing down “passive-aggressive memos” (which, yes, are based on real — and really petty — missives between the former law partners).
While Cellino V. Barnes is an unabashedly silly spoof of the injury attorneys’ story, it’s also empathetic. Amid the manic mugging of Morris and the comedic clucking of Weisberg, the two establish such a rich chemistry that it stings when their characters turn their fire on each other. Perhaps this is why the play ends more sweetly than the actual Cellino and Barnes story, in which they became estranged before the latter died in a plane crash in 2020. Like Furious 7, the Fast and Furious movie to which all plays dream to be compared, Cellino V. Barnes offers its audiences a sweeter resolution that invites us to celebrate the long-running partnership over its messy ending (or at least alongside it). Perhaps the fat payday is not the millions earned from personal injury lawsuits, but the friends we made along the way?
In the end, Cellino V. Barnes is sublimely stupid and a bit brilliant. Relishing in the tabloid elements of the true story, its playwrights spin a yarn that doesn’t lean so hard into the real attorneys that an unfamiliar audience might be left in the cold. Committed and kooky, Morris and Weisberg create characters whole cloth that are as hilarious as they are compelling. Combined with a snappy direction, this play’s humor hits so fast and hard, it’s not just thrilling. It might be exactly the kind of the shock to the system its crooked counselors would drool to litigate over.
Cellino V. Barnes is playing for 12 weeks at the Asylum in New York City.
