Too Late the Phalarope

Too Late the Phalarope, Robert Yale Libott's stage adaptation of the novel by Alan Paton, is a good play with a few interesting faults. In the original, Paton used a haunting, pseudo-biblical style and a rather melodramatic story about a white police lieutenant's seduction of a native girl to explore the poisonous influence of racism on the "European" population of South Africa. Libott clearly tried to stick closely to the structure of the novel, but in doing so missed some of its spirit. Paton's book carried a strong aura of urgency, of events sweeping toward inexorable doom, but in the play the same events often seem merely episodic.

Libott used five or six different sets and a large number of short scenes in his adaptation, and the choppy effect created by the frequent changes is particularly obtrusive in the first of the three acts, which contains several unnecessary scenes and many characters who do not contribute materially to the progress of events. Even the incidental music by Josef Marais, while attractive in itself, cannot bridge all the gaps.

These reservations, however, should not obscure the fact that the play as a whole is both pertinent and effective. Toward the end, and particularly in the last scene, Libott displays an impressive sense of the theatrical. All the adaptation really needs is some tightening in the first act.

It might also be possible to argue that the play could use a different leading man. Barry Sullivan, in the role of the police lieutenant, blurs some of the finer tones of a complex and potentially almost tragic character. A paradoxical mixture of physical strength, heroism, and of nearly morbid sensitivity, the lieutenant is driven to break South Africa's iron law by the frigidity of his wife and a lack of understanding on the part of his father. Sullivan's portrayal of the man's strength is clear and impressive, but his weaknesses appear as if they were brought on by nothing more serious than a hangover.

The role of the father is less complex than that of the policeman, but Finlay Currie makes his portrayal something of an acting achievement. A proud descendant of the original Dutch settlers whose beliefs are based on the Bible and the sanctity of the white race, he is filled with a narrow-minded sort of grandeur. Currie succeeds, nevertheless, in making him human.

The minor performers--and all the technical aspects of the production--are on the whole excellent. Paul Mann, in the comic part of a social worker, deserves special mention for his performance of a role which is somewhat too long. And the director, John Stin, earns much credit for his intelligent use of George Jenkin's complex sets, even if he, together with the playwright, is responsible for the shapeless aspects of the early parts of the play.

During the trial run of a play the question of whether it will become a hit on Broadway always arises. In the case of Too Late the Phalarope, the answer can--and ought--to be, yes.