News
HMS Is Facing a Deficit. Under Trump, Some Fear It May Get Worse.
News
Cambridge Police Respond to Three Armed Robberies Over Holiday Weekend
News
What’s Next for Harvard’s Legacy of Slavery Initiative?
News
MassDOT Adds Unpopular Train Layover to Allston I-90 Project in Sudden Reversal
News
Denied Winter Campus Housing, International Students Scramble to Find Alternative Options
"Fast-paced" is usually a compliment to a play. In the Case of Gigi, however, it's a kind understatement. There are many Gallicisms in Gigi, but the most apparent is its ten-day-bicycle-race quality. After barely two frenetic hours of rushed dialogue, countless entrances and exits, and six scene shifts, the audience is breathing hard.
Adapting Gigi from Colette's novel, Anita Loos has weighted a delicate story a bit too heavily with farce, and the cast scurries through the lines as though intent on catching the 10:35 out of town. Due perhaps to an over-familiarity with the script after a year on Broadway and on tour, the pace is regrettable because the delightful characters of Gigi warrant a longer acquaintanceship.
The plot is slight and charming. The ingenuous offspring of a proud line of cocottes, Gigi shocks here family by holding out for a proposal rather than a proposition. From the irony of conventional immorality, the play draws its humour, most appealing in the less hurried scene in which Gigi learns that a carat is mineral, not vegetable. With cluttered parlor and gilt boudoir, hour-glass corsets and knowing looks, the play elegantly recreates Paris, 1990.
Despite its gallop, the case is excellent. Audrey Hepburn justifies her notices, playing Gigi with a vibrant warmth. With remarkable beauty and a purr in her voice, she is completely captivating as a spirited hoyden or a demure young lady.
As Gigi's grandmother, Josephine Brown dominates the rest of the cast, but Margaret Bannerman is properly imperious as a retired mistress of kings. To the role of Gigi's mother, a frustrated Lakme in whom champagne brings out the Bell Song, Doris Patston contributes a giddy charm and a hefty coloratura. Michael Evans is too flamboyant as the roue snared by innocence, but Bertha Belmore's comic maid is the most accomplished scene stealer on the current stage.
With Miss Hepburn, a Gallic air, and rather determined effervescence, Gigi is an engaging play. But don't glance at your program; one of the scenes might dash by in the meantime.
Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.