Middle of the Night

Paddy Chayefsky's strengths and weaknesses were displayed very simply in an unscheduled part of Tuesday evening's performance. During an emotional scene, the aging hero of the play is talking sadly of the young girl he loves; he faces away from the stage and, in a disillusioned tone of voice, says, "I thought she liked me--you know what I mean" A woman in the tenth row Tuesday evening replied in perfect rhythm, exactly as loudly as the hero's line, in exactly the same living room tone, in exactly the same New York middle class voice, "Yeah."

The spontaneity of the line made most of the audience either laugh or applaud. And with good reason. The triumph of Chayefsky realism lives in her response. The author's lines and scenes are so full of recognizable truths, of familiar details, of realism, that the audience has no trouble at all entering his play. This is an impressive skill. I wonder, though, whether the realism and the truths are not mostly too small to make powerful theater.

Middle of the Night, for example, is full of baby-sitter, telephone, shoes-off-in-the-living-room, talk-frankly-about sex realism. Nearly every little detail is honest and well observed, but some seem at the same time to be examples of unselective realism, of cliches and trivia.

Firmly anchored in these details, the plot is sensitive, but again somewhat small. A fifty-three year old manufacturer, whose wife is dead, falls in love with an attractive receptionist, who is younger than his daughter. Plausible problems arise, and are plausibly resolved. A love story emerges that is, if not profound or passionate, commendably candid.

Fortunately the acting often injects dramatic stature into the story. Especially Edward G. Robinson, as the manufacturer, adds an element of power. Tormented by growing old, he evokes considerable interest and even compassion in his fight for a relationship and a life that even he himself is not sure will work out. Robinson can also stalk in and out of an overcoat with a gusto that dwarfs almost any action that anyone else performs on stage, partly because his better supporting actors have rather inactive roles.

As the girl, Mona Freeman is competent, but somewhat weak. She is never out of key, but rarely displays either force or originality. This may simply show a conflict between the author, who leads to underplaying, and the director, Joshua Logan, who usually does not.

Such a conflict is not visible in the effective supporting cast, however. Norman Field could not be better in a character part as the gray flannel son-in-law. He does a limited job perfectly. June Walker whines and hobbles skillfully as the girl's mother, and Nancy Pollock puts the right possessive touches into her acting of the hero's sister. Sylvia Davis and Ethel Britton handle comic roles well, even if the exaggeration is not always useful. One of them, as a cowlike neighbor, seems to emit, "I mean, what the hell" every minute or two of her life. It's funny at first.

Middle of the Night unfolds within two excellent complex sets by Jo Mielziner, but the action occasionally suffers from Lehman Engel's sometimes melodramatic incidental music.

With few changes, the piece might have been remembered as an outstanding TV play; it is extremely skillful and real. On the stage it seems a bit small.