A Hole in the Head

Arnold Schulman's A Hole in the Head is a rather good addition to the corpus of laughter-and-tears drama. It has plenty of yocks and a goodly share of heart-throbs. One cannot figure out exactly what kind of play Schulman intended to write, but the final result is on the whole satisfying.

Schulman took on a difficult task here, but managed to avoid most of the pitfalls that would have doomed a lesser writer. This is not a thesis play; nor is it a deep one. And it is not a comedy about sophisticated, upper-crust society--which is much easier to write. The author chose the just-plain-folks, people-in-the-house-next-door, it-could-happen-to-you genre, set within the framework of a specific middle-class cultural milieu--the sort that has tempted many American writers, with varying success, ever since Abie's Irish Rose.

In this instance, the milieu is Jewish. But Schulman, though a Jew, has presented it with restraint: he was under no illusions of producing a "social drama," and he avoided the easy temptation of exaggerating the Jewish elements. Yet he shows a keen ear for Jewish speech; and has, without falling into mawkishness, captured just the right amount of protective close-knittedness so characteristic of Jewish family life.

The play runs somewhat shorter than most Broadway shows; but Schulman wisely refrained from padding it out unduly. If one were to find fault, it would be in the curtain lines that close the several scenes; more thought would have yielded better ones.

Little Change in Character

Now it is true of most plays that some, if not all, of the characters undergo a big change by the time the final curtain is rung down. Here, curiously, every character is just the same at the end of the play as at the start. Yet this does not yield a vacuum. Events do transpire; and the essential elements of conflict and suspense are not lacking.

The story centers about Sidney, a fortyish widowered proprietor of a second-rate Miami Beach hotel, and his rather precocious 12-year-old son, Ally. Sid, who thinks Easy Street is just around the corner, needs $5300 to pay off debts and retain the hotel. So he phones his stupid but well-heeled brother Max in New York and drops a half-truth about Ally's poor health. Whereupon Max and wife Sophie fly down and want to take Ally home with them or marry Sid off to a wealthy young widow; but Sid prefers women's company without responsibility, particularly that of a nympho who has a room upstairs and is out to get "what I want, when I want, where I want, and how I want."

The Sid in this production is Hal March, who is making his legitimate stage debut. Tackling the role in which Paul Douglas scored on Broadway, he proves that he can do more than fire questions at TV contestants in isolation booths. In fact, he gives a smooth, consistent and convincing performance. His only serious lapse is near the close of the first act, where he has a heart-to-heart talk with his son and reminisces about his dead wife. This is hard to pull off, but the writing is so fine that it still emerges as one of the two most memorable scenes in the play. The other scene occurs later when Max, splendidly played by Bill Tierney, blusters on and on with incredible outspokenness and tactlessness until he causes the unspeakable embarrassment of all present.

Ronnie Gates joins the list of talented juveniles that have cropped up in the past couple of years. His portrayal of Ally is remarkable; and the part is unusually long and demanding. Teena Starr is appealing as the young, lonely widow. Avril Gentles holds Sophie under control much of the time, but has a tendency to push her acting into burlesque. Donna Person and Edward Finnegan provide outstanding support.

Though the play is unpretentious, its genuineness had led Maurice Schwartz, our foremost Yiddish actor-producer, to turn it into a Yiddish musical for the coming season. One cannot help but recognize the blazing warmth and honesty of Schulman's writing.