The Royal Family

If it weren’t for the double extension, I might have missed THE ROYAL FAMILY and I’m so happy I caught it. Those reading this are too late, but I am here to report how superb it was. This classic Edna Ferber and George S. Kaufman collaboration based on the Barrymore family (names have been changed to protect the guilty) is as delicious and satisfying as it must have been in 1927 when it first opened. Outside of a City Center production in the ‘50s, the play has only been revived one other time in 1975. The 2009 edition produced by the Manhattan Theatre Club at the charming old Biltmore Theatre (they’ve changed the name, but I refuse to acknowledge this) was expertly directed by Doug Hughes with perfect pace. The three act play flew by in a wondrous three hours of joy.

Leading the cast was our own contemporary Helen Hayes, Rosemary Harris, who couldn’t be more perfect as the head of the family, Fanny Cavendish. In the role of Julie Cavendish (obviously young Ethel Barrymore) is the driving force of the play, having to serve as caretaker for the rest of this all-theatre-all-the-time family. She has a daughter Gwen (Kelli Barrett) who is an actress on the rise, but engaged to marry a “civilian” business man, Perry (Freddy Arsenault). One of the main themes of the play is best expressed through this couple. She has greasepaint in her blood, but wants marriage. He loves her, but her career is in conflict with a traditional idea of marriage. However, the problem is real as Perry will come home from work just as Gwen is going off to work. They will rarely see each other and how in the world will they raise a child? They elect to try to make it work, though we suspect this won’t last forever––the family’s obsession with the theatre is a force of nature. This force of nature is also something to be admired, for they are truly devoted to it. “The life” means something to them as a sense of history and tradition in the big sense and also in the family sense as each generation has been successful in it.

Tony Cavendish (obviously the John Barrymore character) has just escaped from “the coast,” breaking his movie contract and up to his neck in a host of other problems. He must flee to Europe for a while, perhaps get out of show business all together (fat chance). Reg Rogers is masterful, giving an exact replica impersonation of John Barrymore. Rogers must have studied every film Barrymore made, for the cadence and phrasing of speech is spot on. The gestures, double-takes, athleticism and line readings are all so precise. The average member of the audience probably had no idea how accurate Rogers’ performance was. They must have simply found him a flamboyantly entertaining character, but I was enjoying at how accurately Rogers nailed the impression of John Barrymore. THE TWENTIETH CENTURY, DINNER AT EIGHT and GRAND HOTEL are favorite films of mine, mainly for the fantastic and unique performances of John Barrymore. I can’t even imagine how this comic genius would fit into his famous portrayal of HAMLET, which took Broadway and London by storm in the ‘20s, but comics can surprise us and play tragedy better than anyone (not always the other way around).

John Glover and Ana Gasteyer played relations, Herbert and Kitty Dean. The Deans are an odd couple, each looking for a new play. They have each grown into the hard to cast category and the parts are not offered to them like they use to be. Tony Roberts played Oscar Wolfe, the family’s manager, who helps them out of scrapes and troubles and stands to lose a lot as each member of the family threatens to leave the biz. Roberts is a good stalwart theatre man, as much like a Barrymore in real life as a contemporary actor can be. He was perfectly good in the role, but didn’t bring anything unique to it.

Hysterical moments included just about everything Reg Rogers did on stage, but his expertly done sword fight through the two-story east side townhouse (sumptuously designed by John Lee Beatty) with the boxing instructor (Rufus Collins) was plenty of fun and Jan Maxwell’s third act breakdown––a sizable comic monologue––was a tour de force, receiving applause in the middle of it, only for her to pick up and continue on to the finish for another round of applause. After all the fun, the play turns on a dime with that great Edna Ferber way of making a final serious statement about the frailty of life and the preciousness of time. The play would work its magic in the final moments, even if it weren’t the great Rosemary Harris, alone in the room, privately rehearsing for a come back performance she will never give. I had been laughing all night and suddenly I wanted to sob. Shouldn’t we have plays like this on Broadway all the time? We rarely do.