Technically, drinking and carousing oneself from the nadir of an internationally acclaimed acting career, while a common situation, does not qualify itself as a tragedy at the level of an Oedipus or Othello. That doesn't mean spending an evening with a man like John Barrymore, one of the greatest actors of stage and screen in the first half of the 20th century, while he's preparing for one of his many failed returns to the stage, isn't tragic. It means that one can mourn for the loss of such a powerful orator, even as he slips into alcohol-induced whining before your eyes. Such is the evening written by William Luce, as offered by the team of actor Ken Love and director Gus Edwards. Mr. Love is stage presence personified, and though color-blind casting may initially seem an odd choice, it doesn't take long until his rendition of Barrymore moves beyond the man, and becomes an archetype of power, fame, and talent lost.
John Barrymore, of the famed Barrymore theatre family that included five generations of heralded actors, was an accomplished stage and silent film actor and matinee idol before he embarked on a legitimization of his career at age 34. He starred in a wildly successful production of Richard III, then went on to beat Booth's box office record in a New York run of Hamlet. By 40, he drank his legitimacy and star power away, and spent the next several years attempting to regain what he'd lost. It is at what may be his last attempted return to the stage that we encounter him. In between snippets of the Bard's greatest tragic speeches, we learn about Barrymore's squandered life.
The links between such tragic and historic figures as Hamlet, Richard III, and Othello and the sordid details of Barrymore's life are tenuous. While it's a great shame that he never got the chance to make a slew of talkies to remember him by, and his wandering eye led to four marriages and divorces, alcoholism and obsession with sex do not tragic flaws make. There's a reason Caligula and Nero were not subjects of Shakespearean tragedies. Under Mr. Edwards' direction, the piece is not quite as sharp as it feels it should be. While he is a very powerful actor himself, Mr. Love's transitions are not as crisp as required. When he launches into one of the many Shakespearean monologues that propel the show forward, Mr. Love shows his star quality, but when forced to kvetch about Barrymore's ups and downs, he becomes less caged lion than barfly. It seems that Mr. Edwards could have made the transitions sharper, while making more of a connection between the two subjects.
While rehearsing for his 1941 return to the stage, Barrymore is helped along by an offstage prompter. The device is even clunkier than the connectivity of the tragedies. Matthew A. Fennig does what he can with the thin character, but is too modern in his interpretation.
Technically, the show also lacks polish. The stage is fitting for the rundown theatre, though flaws in running Katie Domogala's lighting and the unbilled sound design are prevalent. The choice of a disco version of a 40s song is jarring, and the 70s preshow Muzak mystifying.
When given the right material, Mr. Love commands the stage. Unfortunately, the right material is not always readily available in this script, and the moments of whining are not terribly engaging. If you're willing to sit through some draggier moments, you'll enjoy the treasure of Mr. Love's interpretations of tragedy.
Production Details:
Barrymore by William Luce
The Ensemble Theatre
The Metro Theatre, Scottsdale
(480) 874-0406
November 3rd - 18th, 2000