The Theater: Sudsy Whiff of Humanity

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THE COUNTRY GIRL by CLIFFORD ODETS

A successful revival of a play from a former era often says more about the audience than it does about the playwright. Nine playgoers out of ten would much prefer to have their hearts warmed and their curiosities aroused than to have their minds challenged. Clifford Odets knew that. He knew that the public roots for a fallen hero to make a comeback. He knew that playgoers would wonder if an alcoholic could stay sober at a crucial moment in his career. He intuited that every woman in the audience would ask herself if she would suffer and support such a husband or accept an offer of love from a younger man with pile-driving ambition. In every soap opera there is a sudsy whiff of humanity.

This production of The Country Girl is a first-class revival that is likely to attract rapt audiences. If that happens, it will not prove that in 20 years Odets has grown in stature, but only that people tend to remain, somewhat endearingly, the same. Jason Robards is the alcoholic ex-matinee idol trying to make a comeback, Maureen Stapleton is the wife to whom he clings, and George Grizzard is the young director with a shark-toothed hunger for fame.

In two of three instances the casting is perfect. Robards gives a performance for the theatrical memory book: vain, vulnerable, self-pitying, playful, hung over, a deposed Richard II of the Great White Way who wins back his crown. Grizzard is the perfect foil, an edgy Broadway Bolingbroke with a rapier for a tongue. Unfortunately, Maureen Stapleton still seems to be playing The Gingerbread Lady. She is a jittery bundle of nerves rather than the tough stoic she ought to be, and her matronly appearance short-circuits what should be an electrically charged love interest between her and Grizzard. Nonetheless she is all theater, and—bless it—so is The Country Girl.