Welcome to a new Wildcard Wednesday! This week, I’m sharing the latest in my “potpourri” series on midcentury Broadway plays, specifically comedies, that I’m reading for (mostly) the first time. In this entry, I’m extending last month’s theme with three MORE plays notably performed during the run of What’s My Line? by regular panelist Arlene Francis.
DINNER AT EIGHT (1932)
Logline: The hosts and guests for a planned society dinner have intertwining dramas ahead of the big evening.
Author: George S. Kaufman & Edna Ferber | Original Director: George S. Kaufman
Original Broadway Cast: Constance Collier, Conway Tearle, Ann Andrews, Malcolm Duncan, Marguerite Churchill, Margaret Dale, Austin Fairman, Paul Harvey, Samuel Levene, Cesar Romero, Dorothy Walters, Judith Wood, Olive Wyndham, George Alison, and more
Thoughts: Having read this play over a decade ago when I first screened and discussed its star-studded 1933 film adaptation in my Pre-Code series, I went into this post with an established affinity for Dinner At Eight, a smart ensemble comedy with a handful of strong characters inside a complex narrative package of intertwining ideas. But when rereading the original Kaufman and Ferber text today, I was also reminded of just how talky and slow it is — there’s so much fat, and getting to the gist of some scenes is effortful. What’s more, I still chafe at how anachronistically dark some of its ideas are, specifically the Barrymore character’s third-act suicide and the pending mortality of the dinner hostess’ husband. Oh, I’d still say, as a genre, the play tilts more towards comedy than drama — the dialogue is crisp and written in the style of Kaufman’s great laffers, and the dovetailing story structure is inherently bright and amusing, with “aha!” reveals that mimic the planting/pay-off catharsis of comedic works. Additionally, most of the leads are decidedly comical — especially the three most memorable ladies from the film, Billie Burke’s self-involved hostess, Jean Harlow’s scheming businessman’s wife, and Marie Dressler’s wistful aging actress. That last part, originated on stage by Constance Collier, was essayed by Arlene Francis in the 1966 Broadway revival, which also featured June Havoc and Walter Pidgeon. It’s the kind of character one could imagine this charming TV personality handling with ease, and it’s indeed one of the lighter figures in the whole affair. But there are nearly a dozen opportunities for great actors to take on roles of varying heft, and Dinner At Eight’s sheer design of building to their eventual congregation is smart and crescendo-making. Of course, I do miss the best bit from the film — the final exchange between Dressler and Harlow — but even with that absent, there’s a lot of great stuff here. If you cast it well and direct it to play at a healthy clip, I think it could still delight.
Jackson’s Verdict: There’s so much here that’s great, even if not all of it is.
THE TIME OF THE CUCKOO (1952)
Logline: In Venice, a neurotic American secretary contemplates an affair with a married Italian shopkeeper.
Author: Arthur Laurents | Original Director: Harold Clurman
Original Broadway Cast: Shirley Booth, Dino DiLuca, Donald Murphy, Geraldine Brooks, Lydia St. Clair, Silva Gaselli, Jose Perez, Daniel Reed, Jane Rose, Ruggero Romor
Thoughts: I was already familiar with both this play’s 1955 film adaptation, Summertime starring Katharine Hepburn, and the 1965 musical version with a score by Richard Rodgers and Stephen Sondheim, Do I Hear A Waltz? So, after finally sitting down to read Arthur Laurents’ inspiring original text, I’m happy to say it’s my favorite. It’s a breathtaking character piece, with every major figure well-defined but nuanced, especially the central Leona, who has a terrific arc accentuated by motivated plot points that capably display both her change and struggle, leading to the bittersweet ending that all versions of this story share. The film, shot on location in Italy (in color), is easily the most romantic of the three, opening up the settings but simplifying the plot around the core drama of a middle-aged American secretary finding love with an Italian shopkeeper whose marriage to another makes her uncomfortable. This streamlines all the play’s subplots, and reduces the moral complexity of its themes, even in the A-story itself, which was initially more complicated by the leading lady’s own hangups and insecurities, evidenced by situations that trigger her neuroses. Indeed, Laurents’ original play is much better plotted, and much better conceived on macro terms to explore her character. The musical adheres more closely to the play, but as a musical, it’s forced to regularly carve out space for songs that alternate between romantically introspective reflections of character/plot and lighthearted distractions meant to leaven the romantic drama with some feel-good musical-comedy pizazz. The result is that Waltz? is uneven, with not all parts working together to create the same whole. Nevertheless, because it does forcibly inject comic centerpieces via musical numbers, I’d say it’s overall a sillier, lighter take on Laurents’ play, which has amusing moments, but mainly functions like a drama. And accordingly, it’s a tough one to adjudicate in this particular blog series, where I’m focusing on comedies and how their elements work to satisfy within that genre. As for Arlene Francis, who played Leona in Philadelphia for a week in 1966, I think she’s too elegant for this role, which was originally conceived for the quirkier Shirley Booth and on film for the prickly Katharine Hepburn. But it’s such a meaty role; I’m sure she had fun!
Jackson’s Verdict: A compelling character drama.
TCHIN-TCHIN (1962)
Logline: An uptight doctor’s wife and an Italian contractor spiral together over their spouses’ affair.
Author: Sidney Michaels, based on the play by François Billetdoux | Original Director: Peter Glenville
Original Broadway Cast: Margaret Leighton, Anthony Quinn, Charles Grodin, Jean Barker, Sandy Baron
Thoughts: This feels like a French play. It’s an absurdist sex comedy about two very different people — an uptight English lady and a blue-collar Italian — whose periodic confabs over how to handle the fact that their spouses are collaborating in an affair leads to their own mutual spiral into depression and alcoholism, as they attempt, or at least consider, consummating a relationship themselves. It’s a great logline with a difficult plot, for so much of the play — especially the first half — involves their repeated inaction, with changes in the story only arising because of decisions made by off-screen forces. This lack of inertia grates, until a climax near the end of the first act, where he attempts but fails to seduce her in a hotel room. It’s funny and sad. From there, the second act gets progressively less logical, as the two marital losers get progressively less tethered to their initial sanity. On the page, such abstractions don’t always feel intended, but I can imagine an actual production with strong performances may be clarifying, especially buoyed by an ability to mine the text for all its potential laughs. The original Broadway production got pretty good reviews, although its broad commercial appeal was always in doubt. Fortunately, it ran long enough for Arlene Francis and Jack Klugman to step into the lead roles, with the former, in particular, earning even higher marks than her predecessor. To that point, I could also see why Francis would be attracted to this material — it’s totally actor-dependent, with a lot of wild stuff to play, and a script that is simultaneously earnest and shockingly vulgar (infidelity! drunkenness! abortion!); this would have been comedically exciting, and surprising, for audiences most familiar with Francis’ TV persona, which winked instead of shouted. In general, though, this play’s ability to surprise must have been a large part of its appeal — and I’m torn over whether how much of that is gratuitous versus thematic. I still don’t really know what to make of it. It’s an oddity — hard to love, hard to hate. (For more, check out the 1991 film adaptation, A Fine Romance, with Julie Andrews and Marcello Mastroianni.)
Jackson’s Verdict: Bizarre but fascinating.
Come back next week for a new Wildcard! And stay tuned Monday for another musical gem!