Welcome to a new Wildcard Wednesday! This week, I’m sharing the latest in our “potpourri” series on classic Broadway plays, specifically comedies, that I’m studying for (mostly) the first time. For this entry, I selected shows that were all played regionally by Betty White, whose birthday anniversary is this week, alongside her husband Allen Ludden…
BELL, BOOK, AND CANDLE (1950)
Logline: A modern-day witch hexes her upstairs neighbor into falling in love with her.
Author: John Van Druten | Original Broadway Director: John Van Druten
Original Broadway Cast: Lilli Palmer, Rex Harrison, Jean Adair, Scott McKay, Larry Gates
Thoughts: Best remembered for its atmospheric 1958 film adaptation, which opened up the action and had fun using the outré beatnik culture of the late 1950s as a proximal aesthetic to indicate the eccentricity of the witches, Bell, Book, And Candle is interesting for this blog because it influenced the conception of Bewitched. Along with I Married A Witch, this is about the romance between a female witch and a male mortal — of course, with several key distinctions. Here, the romance only occurs when the witch puts a love spell on her desired paramour — before she confesses the truth, he has the spell removed, she loses her powers because (as in the rules of this universe) she’s fallen in love and can no longer practice magic, and they, naturally, reunite of their own volition. It’s a smart take on the post-war romantic comedy, and it comes from John Van Druten, whose best play we’ve already covered — The Voice Of The Turtle, which was about a woman reconciling her thoughts on premarital sex before ultimately finding something better: love. Candle is actually kin, but with flashy supernatural plot points. And, in that regard, it’s like Bewitched, which was, similarly, a human show with a high-concept hook. Bewitched’s high-concept hook — the witchcraft — could be viewed as a variety of different metaphorical markers of identity: race, religion, sexual orientation (which the Candle movie also implies), and even, as we discussed, wealth. For Van Druten, I think witchcraft represents the same subject matter that interested him in Turtle: sex. That is, the leading lady — Gillian — uses her “powers” to arouse a man’s affections. But that heightened attraction is artificial and makes her feel guilty. Her arc then is similar to the lead in Turtle, with her deciding that emotion — love — is indeed more powerful, first being devastated by it and then uplifted, when she lets herself be vulnerable and finally gets her man. Accordingly, while the witchcraft talk is flashy — and allows for flashy characters — it’s really the strong thematic foundation, as in Turtle, that renders Bell, Book, And Candle a fine romantic comedy, giving depth to the players and this plot. Now, compared to the film, the play may disappoint — so much important stuff happens off stage — but compelling performances will sell it. I’m sure White and Ludden were good.
Jackson’s Rating: 7/10
CRITIC’S CHOICE (1960)
Logline: A drama critic is afraid of compromising his integrity when his wife writes a play.
Author: Ira Levin | Original Broadway Director: Otto Preminger
Original Broadway Cast: Henry Fonda, Georgann Johnson, Mildred Natwick, Virginia Gilmore, Murray Hamilton, Eddie Hodges, Billie Allen
Thoughts: Having seen the 1963 film adaptation with Bob Hope and Lucille Ball — two hilarious performers who don’t get the chance to play at their best, given the material — I was braced for this stage version of Critic’s Choice to be as much of a disappointment as the movie, which largely fails by setting expectations too high. However, this obviously works better as a piece of theatre, for that’s what the show is thematically and narratively about — and, as with others we’ve read, like No Time For Comedy, this self-referentialism, while perhaps overused today, can be fun and funny in the context of an earlier era. And indeed, I think the best thing about Critic’s Choice is that it’s hyperaware of its critique of the stage, landing its biggest laughs when winking directly to the audience about known conventions — like starting off a scene with a housekeeper talking on the phone and revealing all the leads’ whereabouts. The problem is… those smarty-pants gags are not enough to predicate a whole comedy. For that, we need amusing characters in active story. Here, Critic’s Choice can’t help but be mediocre, for although it boldly takes on an apparently clichéd idea — the drama critic having to review his wife’s play — and intends to wring every possible tension it can out of it, there’s not a lot of dimension or nuance to the leads, who get caught in a love triangle, and then another retaliatory love triangle (with the critic’s ex-wife — who also wrote a play that he reviewed poorly: the amusing but illogical reason for their divorce). Those maneuverings feel like a trite, boring distraction from the basic conflict — which hinges on ego and honesty, two things that often make for drama between couples, especially when it’s a woman encroaching on a man’s ego and asking for more honesty than she wants. But that’s all stuff we’ve seen before as well — both before and after 1960, and because it feels so commonplace, I’m desperate for more character-based specifics to render it interesting. Now, some of the side players are well-drawn — like the critic’s son and the wife’s mother — but as for the leads, they’re unpleasant tropes, victim of a premise that can’t escape its own confinements, even in a better-than-average script. And if Lucy and Bob couldn’t turn this into a riot, I’m not sure Betty and Allen could have either.
Jackson’s Rating: 5/10
ANY WEDNESDAY (1964)
Logline: Complications arise when a businessman puts up his mistress in a company apartment.
Author: Muriel Resnik | Original Broadway Director: Henry Kaplan
Original Broadway Cast: Sandy Dennis, Don Porter, Gene Hackman, Rosemary Murphy (Barbara Cook, George Gaynes, and Kenneth Mars were notable replacements — Cynthia Harris and Loretta Swit were understudies)
Thoughts: Also adapted for the big screen, Any Wednesday is a tight four-person comedy that gives a lot of time to each of its leads, all of whom feel distinct and well-defined as a result of the attention. This is its primary calling card — its unique characters, and the opportunities they provide for actors. But its premise is also quintessentially of the 1960s — with echoes of Billy Wilder’s The Apartment (1960) — as its plot centers on a married exec who buys a place for his mistress to live, writing it off as an executive suite for his company. In this love nest, they meet once a week — every Wednesday — for an overnight dalliance. But double trouble arrives on a Thursday in the form of a small-town businessmen who’s been screwed by the bigwig and is out for justice, and then, said bigwig’s wife, who discovers the mistress and assumes she’s married to the visiting foe. This leads to an extended and awkward dinner date with the foursome that culminates in the lovers being discovered. Of course, everything is straightened out by the end, as the married pair reunites and the younger two realize they’re much more compatible. In terms of plotting, it’s somewhat predictable, and the whole attitude about infidelity is entrenched within its era and thus requires the right audience mindset. Fortunately, the structure gives precedence to the characters — particularly the women, both of whom are fleshed out, with both human and comedic traits that make it possible to earn laughs and propel story. The men are more narratively rigid — the out-of-towner gets to be the good guy love interest against the married heel, who, on paper, is hard to like. But there are so many opportunities over the course of this show to breathe life into all these roles, including the men, and with a clever cast, I think the text’s comedy would smooth out the premise’s rough edges. Naturally, the original production was gem-filled, with Don Porter (of Private Secretary and The Ann Sothern Show) taking on the most difficult part, but I can just imagine Betty White and Allen Ludden also working their magic as the married couple — he’d make the philanderer more inherently charming and therefore not detestable, and she’d give both warmth and ice to the complex society wife. This is probably the most performer-dependent of the pair’s selected plays.
Jackson’s Rating: 7/10
(Betty White fans, be sure to check out October’s Arlene Francis Edition of the Literary Society, as two of the three plays covered in that entry were also played at some point by both White and Ludden — Janus and Once More, With Feeling.)
Come back next week for another Wildcard! And stay tuned Tuesday for more sitcom fun!