Goldilocks

Once upon a time there were two Kerrs, Mama Kerr and Papa Kerr. (There were a lot of baby Kerrs too, but you can read all about them in Mama's best-seller.) One day, Mama Kerr said to Papa Kerr, "Walter, let us write a musical. A musical with lots of sentiment and lots of laughs and lots and lots of old-fashioned goodness."

"Yes, Jean," said Papa Kerr, "let us."

"What shall we use for a plot?" said Mama Kerr.

"Oh, that is easy," said Papa Kerr.

"We can have a boy, and he can meet girl, lose girl, and get girl."

"Why Walter," said Mama Kerr.

"What a wonderful idea! Let us go to work."

And so they did.

Then Mama Kerr said to Papa Kerr, or maybe it was Papa Kerr who said to Mama Kerr, "What shall we do about character development, consistency, originality, and a believable denouement?"

"The hell with them," said Papa Kerr, or perhaps it was Mama Kerr. "We can have the period costumes instead, and lots of local color about the silent movie days. Now let's get back to work."

And so they did, chortling merrily all the while.

Maybe that's not the way it happened, but the fact remains that Goldilocks is now very much among us. And for a second-rate musical it isn't bad, its first flush of banality being somewhat sicklied o'er by the pale cast of good taste, funny lines, and money.

The silent movie bit is good for some wonderful parody sequences and some elegant, expensive Peter Larkin sets. Unfortunately, it also provides the Kerrs with an opening for an improving lecture on the cultural mission of the nickelodeon, by way of proving that a movie-director hero is not "a common, on-the-make hustler," but an idealist and an artist. For my money, he's still a common, on-the-make hustler, loaded with moral earnestness in an attempt to season a piece of high-quality hackwork with maladroit and dubious "social comment." (This pseudo-moralism is the second-worst vice of the commercial theatre, right after the sleazy sentimentality in which Goldilocks also abounds.)

The hero, by the way, is now being played by Barry Sullivan. Don Ameche will take over the role soon, and this may be just as well because Mr. Sullivan can't sing. His co-star, Elaine Stritch, has quite a reputation as a belter-out of songs, but she was not impressive on Wednesday night. Neither were Russell Nype or Pat Stanley, though all four of them are skilled professionals.

Except for the ballet music (arranged by Laurence Rosenthal), Leroy Anderson's score is of a piece with the book. Thus the low quality of the singing does not matter as much as it might. Those of the lyrics (by the Kerrs and Joan Ford) which were audible in the second balcony proved unexpectedly graceful. And the whole business is made worthwhile by Agnes de Mille's exhilarating dances, which make you realize that you have not, in fact, seen the whole thing before. Goldilocks would be a delight if only somebody in authority would put the entire evening in the hands of Miss de Mille, and send Mama and Papa Kerr back to the woods.