|
|
|
 |
The Man Who Came to Dinner |
|
Author: Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman
Reviewer: Carolyn Albert for Theatre Reviews Limited |
|
Imagine a banquet of all desserts and you get an idea of the frothy and
luscious pileup of moments in Roundabout's new production of "The Man Who
Came to Dinner."
The worst one can say about a celebrity is that he believes his own press
releases. Such a self-important, ego-bloated, pompous persona would be
demanding in the most imperious manner, making him totally obnoxious - were
he not also very funny. Playwrights Hart & Kaufman are said to have based
the character of Sheridan Whiteside on a real person, a theater critic no
less - Alexander Woolcott. He is a celebrated literary figure, but an
arrogant misery. To keep him safe from our irritation, the authors have
penned lines for Whiteside that are as wittily clever as any spoken on a
stage, even more piercingly delightful because most are wrapped in barbed
wire.
  
For example, when an overeager doctor pushes his magnum opus on the great man
for his opinion, Whiteside says, "I shall lose no time in reading it, if you
know what I mean." The audience knows exactly what the doctor does not.
Whiteside insults everyone mercilessly, and they take it because they either
want something from him or he's got something on them. He's not above
blackmail; after all, he's not a nice man. As the play opens, Whiteside
(Nathan Lane) has just slipped on a patch of ice while entering the
mansion-size home of Dorothy and Ernest Stanley (Linda Stephens and Terry
Beaver), Ohio aristocrats who had the good luck to persuade Whiteside to come
for a visit, and then the bad fortune to have him slip upon entering. Now
wheelchair bound, he threatens a multi-million dollar lawsuit while he takes
over their home and phone, and relegates their comings and goings to the back
stairs.
We soon see that he's unhurt and faking injury - but why? Calls from the FDR
White House and from world leaders everywhere to inquire about his health
suggest that he can freeload at much higher levels. Missing is the
motivation for the central character's decision to stay and make everyone
miserable. Yet, this play has been a huge success since its 1939 opening,
and it's easy to see why.
The role of Whiteside demands a star who can bellow like thunder, throw
lightning darts of insults, and then beam rays of warm sunshine that everyone
in his aura sops up gladly. Lane is very, very good. Even when he's a curmudgeon, he's just likeable enough for us to believe that his spinsterish
secretary, Maggie Cutler - a perfectly nice, intelligent woman - likes him
enough to have given up her own interests all these years to look after his.
When Maggie meets the small town reporter (Hank Stratton) who wants to do a
story on Whiteside, and falls in love with him - planning to leave Whiteside
at last, he cannot think of losing her and must plot a way to foil the love
affair.
He brings in a man-eater, a seductive vamp of an actress (Jean Smart) who
gloms onto the reporter because he has also written a very good play and she
wants to star in it. The rest of the play's action deals mainly with efforts
to undo the damage, with richly entertaining cameos from Byron Jennings,
portraying someone akin to John Barrymore, and from Lewis J. Stadlen as a
Groucho Marx prototype.
You can see how delicate the balance must be by the actors and the director,
award-winning Jerry Zaks. Maggie has no girlish crush on her boss. Nor does
Whiteside love Maggie; in fact, we're very clear he loves nobody but himself.
We want her to win, but we can't altogether despise Whiteside - or why would
Maggie have put up with him for so long? Making him a villain diminishes
her. Achieving that comic balance is no easy feat, but Zaks and his crew of
talented actors bring it off.
Designer Tony Walton has built a confection of a set. The posh parlor is the
center of the house, with doors that lead to the library, dining room, and
front hall, with the central staircase upstage - almost enough doors for a
farce. Through all these doors come a series of characters to enliven the
lightweight plot. There are socially aspiring neighbors (Julie Halston and
Kit Flanagan), a nurse (Mary Catherine Wright) who is the long-suffering
target of some of Whiteside's sharpest verbal harpoons, that doctor with
literary aspirations (William Duell), the two Stanley children who want to be
free of their parents' influence (Zach Shaffer and Mary Catherine Garrison),
a union-organizing boyfriend (Ryan Shively), a prison guard, prisoners, an
authority on insects, a seven-member boys choir, and more. There's even an
eccentric relative whose "deux ex machina" secret identity hastens the play's
giddy resolution.
William Ivey Long's costumes join in the fun. Paul Gallo's lighting keeps
the play sharp and bright. Peter Fitzgerald's clear sound lets us hear every
clever word.
The three acts move so quickly, the lines are so brightly polished, and the
whole production so spiffy, we never ask why Whiteside is going through all
this trouble. We don't miss the meat in this meal, for the dessert has such
variety of delicious textures and tastes, it's just a treat.
|
|
|
Produced by Roundabout Theatre Company: Todd Haimes, Artistic Director; Ellen
Richard, Managing Director; Julia C. Levy, Executive Director, External
Affairs.
CAST: Nathan Lane, Jean Smart, Terry Beaver, Stephen DeRosa, William Duell,
Harriet Harris, Byron Jennings, Lewis J. Stadlen, Linda Stephens, Hank
Stratton, Mary Catherine Wright, with Ian Blackman, Julie Boyd, Kit Flanagan,
Mary Catherine Garrison, Julie Halston, Jeffrey Hayenga, Ruby Holbrook, Zach
Shaffer, Ryan Shively, plus Michael Bakkensen, Hans Hoffman, and Andre Steve
Thompson.
Theater: American Airlines Theatre, 227 West 42nd Street (7th - 8th Aves.)
Schedule: Tuesday - Saturday at 8, Wednesday, Saturday, Sunday at 2.
Tickets: $50-65. At box office or call (212) 719-1300.
C&C (comfort & cleanliness): The theater is new and streamlined but the
greedy theater owners have (sigh!) put everyone into economy class seats with
no knee room and chairs that accommodate only the most svelte derriere. Side
box chairs might suit the long-of-leg or wide-of-girth; these appeared to
have decent sight lines.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|  |
|
