233.
MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
Paddy
Chayefsky’s MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, which debuted on Broadway in 1956, originally starred
Edward G. Robinson as Jerry Kingsley, a successful, Jewish, 53-year-old garment
manufacturer who, after his wife dies, finds a new lease on life when he falls
in love with Betty, a pretty, 24-year-old, Gentile woman who works in his
office. Her husband has alienated her, and Jerry represents the warmth and
understanding no one else seems able to provide. The families are upset, of
course, each trying to talk its relative out of the arrangement, but nothing
can stop Jerry and Betty from fulfilling their respective destinies.
Betty
was first played by the great Gena Rowlands. Robinson was 63 at the time, and
Rowlands was 26, so it may have been necessary for Chayefsky to take 10 years
off Jerry’s age to make the disparity less controversial. The movie version of
1959 starred Fredric March, who was 62, and Kim Novak, 23. The Keen Company’s
revival, the play’s first in New York since its original production, stars
Jonathan Hadary, 65, and Nicole Lowrance, whose age I don’t know, although an
Internet article places her in high school in 1997, which would put her
somewhere in her 30s. I note this because the play is about the fuss everybody
in the play makes over the May-December romance. Ms. Lowrance can easily pass
for someone in her mid-20s, but Mr. Hadary looks every wrinkle his age, just as
did Mr. March, according to Bosley Crowther’s New York Times review of the movie. Mr. Robinson’s performance, on
the other hand, was so good that not much was made of his actual age when he
created the role.
Nicole Lowrance, Jonathan Hadary. Photo: Carol Rosegg.
A friend of mine suggests that in
today’s world, an actor in his early 50s, like Tom Cruise, is likely to look 10
years younger, so it may be necessary to cast an older actor to make the age
difference more visibly striking. Be that as it may, Mr. Hadary, one of New
York’s busiest and most respected character actors, lacks the special charisma
that would allow an Edward G. Robinson or a Fredric March to succeed in this
role. His bearing, nasal delivery, and other physical characteristics make it
hard to buy Betty’s falling in love with him, and, despite one or two effective
scenes, he’s rarely convincing. When he must hold a baby (played, of course, by
a doll), it appears to weigh practically nothing, and he even engages in a
shouting match while holding it (admittedly, director Jonathan Silverstein can
be faulted for this).
Even if the role were better cast,
however, it would be difficult to appreciate this misconceived production. From
the minute the lights go up there’s an air of phoniness to Mr. Silverstein’s
over-obvious attempt to replicate the aura of ordinary middle-class people in
mid-1950s Manhattan. None of the actors
is able to truthfully embody their roles, although Denise Lute as Evelyn, Jerry’s
sister, who may be objecting to Jerry’s affair because it means her possible
replacement in the household, is one who gradually improves as the play
proceeds.
For
what must be budgetary reasons, the set, by Steven C. Kemp, remains the same
for both the upper West Side apartment of the prosperous Jerry and his family,
and for the lower middle-class family of Betty. No attempt is made, other than
the use of a chandelier for Jerry’s apartment, to differentiate one space from
the other, despite the importance for the audience of understanding how unalike
are the circumstances in which each family lives. Moreover, among other strange
ideas, the upstage door in Jerry’s apartment leads directly to the street,
where—with the help of a wall made of scrim that allows us to see
through it—mounds of extremely artificial snow are heaped.
Making the production even more
confusing is the casting of a number of actors in double roles. While several are
able to make clear enough distinctions between one role and the other, there
are those, like Amelia Campbell and Melissa Miller, who look so much alike in
each of their characters that seeing them in both apartments is a jolt.
Chayefsky was a naturalistic playwright. You have to believe in the reality of
his world, made palpable by environment and individual personalities.
Distractions created by scenic and casting choices are bound to drive a
plausibility wedge between audience and performance that make watching the play
mentally akin to sitting on a burr.
Almost as exasperating are some of
the other choices. The play takes place in the dead of winter (the presence of all
that fake snow on stage is not a welcome sight) but when characters dress to go
out into the bitter cold they put on light spring jackets; Betty wears one of
bolero length. At the end of the play, Jerry walks through his door into the freezing
street wearing only a wool cardigan, without so much as a scarf or gloves. And
what man didn’t wear a hat outside in a 1956 winter? Couldn’t costume designer
Jennifer Paar have found period winter clothing that was more acceptable?
MIDDLE
OF THE NIGHT is still worthy of production. Its dialogue sounds true to the characters,
and Chayefsky gives us several richly drawn characters who embody values
associated with the period. However, if a company is too strapped to provide this
play with the kind of design and casting values it requires, it would simply be
better to choose something else. Chintziness has its place, but MIDDLE OF THE
NIGHT doesn’t deserve it.
