The Stage: Old Play, New Women

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"A naughty play . . ." "Bitter tirade against women, bitter tirade against men . . ." "Great theater, great truth . . ." "Best play on Broadway." So critics first hailed Clare Boothe Luce's The Women, a play that made the reputation of every actress who played in it, from Ilka Chase to Marjorie Main, who had only a walk-on part, and, in the movie version, Rosalind Russell ("It changed my life completely"). Now 30 years and $50 million in box-office receipts later, The Women is one of the few Broadway hits to become a staple in repertory around the world.

What has made it endure? A black-tie benefit audience in Phoenix's new Theater Center last week got an answer from the playwright herself. "It seems," she said in a curtain speech, "that women haven't changed. The wise women in the audience will know that is so. If they don't tell you why on the way home, I'll tell you now: it's because—alas—men haven't changed."

But for the Phoenix benefit. The Women had changed, if ever so subtly. To bring the text up to date for the performance of the 44-girl cast—all played by Phoenician socialite amateurs —Playwright Luce had used her author's prerogative to pencil in changes. "Look, Schiaparelli!" became "Look, Balenciaga!" "No one has mistaken you for Mrs. Harrison Williams yet" was changed to "for Princess Radziwill"; "I wish I could make up my mind whether or not I like Shirley Temple" was updated to "whether I like the Beatles." Originally, when the cigarette girl asked, "Wh'd'ya say if I was to tell you I'm a commyanist?", Sadie replied, "Fd say ya was bats. I was a Townsendite. Where'd it get me?" Today Sadie says, "I was a Bircher."

The timely rewriting made the punch lines only more telling. Not that the audience was unaware that up there on stage "Miriam" was being played by Barry Goldwater's sister Carolyn (Mrs. Bernard Erskine), and the bitchy "Sylvia" by Barry's sister-in-law Sally (Mrs. Robert Goldwater). All of which did not dim the drama of the Act II hair-pulling scene between the two. And when Miriam looked at her arm, into which Sylvia had just sunk her teeth, and cried out, "My God! I need a rabies shot," it brought down the house. As for Sally Goldwater, the Phoenix Gazette thought she was the best in the cast: "A polished actress who scores heavily with a bold and brassy interpretation. She's a knockout!"