Poets' Theatre Workshops

Saturday's review of The Great God Brown dealt with a play that O'Neill drafted at the age of twenty-four and released when he was thirty-seven. The image of the playwright struggling over his work for years and ripping up manuscripts in dissatisfaction should be borne in mind by every writer who might toy with the illusion of easy success.

Poets' Theatre in particular ought to consider more thoroughly their policy of staging plays which admittedly are unfinished. While the "workshop" arrangement of showing new plays to limited audiences is ostensibly designed to aid the playwright, it can produce an opposite effect if the term "workshop" becomes a partial excuse for incomplete work.

Granted, calling a piece finished is the hardest step for an author to take; but it is a necessary step. No one appreciates the house manager's offering a prologue that says in effect: this production isn't "official." Firman Houghton's new play, The Portable Tiger, is an entertaining one that could have amused far more people than the fortunate few who saw it this weekend. And the playwright would have learned a great deal more from a wider crowd; limited audiences are limiting.

The Portable Tiger certainly fared better than the New Jersey version last Saturday. Its plot seems to have been transplanted, intentionally or not, from two comic movies, Phfffs and Captain's Paradise. Bill Rudd (William Hillier) and Peter Strickland (Jerry Vermilye) share an apartment which Bill uses for purposes of seduction, decorating it with big-game trophies, while Peter pretends he's a philanthropist and has suitable trappings. In due time Bill seduces Peter's all-American girl friend (Lucy Stone). This event, plus an example of self-remunerating charity, turns Bill into a Good Man who gives groceries to poor people. Peter, meanwhile, realizes that Goodness doesn't pay; so they switch roles.

Except for the lead, the Poets' actors did well by Houghton. Lucy Stone is a magnificent comedienne. While she's no Giulietta Masina, she was the only member of the cast (this may reflect on director Maurice Breslow) who fully appreciated the slapstick possibilities of the play. Jerry Vermilye's competence as Peter was unfailing, and Raye Bush as Mrs. Mallow, the old lady who repays Peter's charity, handled a fairly banal character interestingly. But William Hillier's portrayal of Bill detracted greatly from the whole production. It would be impossible to say he didn't develop his part, because he didn't really know it. He stumbled over his lines (and everyone else's) with all the expressiveness and variety of Howdy Doody.

Houghton's play, despite a by-passed chance for an uproarious finale and Hillier's shoddiness, was funny and well performed. Thus, in inagurating its new home, an attractive room directly opposite Widener, the Poets' Theatre has broken a spiral of esotericism which had over-exploited the academic nature of this community. Now Poets' owes a wider showing to both its author and its potential audience. Let's assume that all theater is experimental, rather than a few designated performances.