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Executive producer Tom Musca; producer Robert Westwood.
What's in a name? Plenty. And a Commie by any other name had reason to fear during the era of Mutual Assured Destruction, with the Cold War at its height.
Names have power to destroy careers, threaten friendships, rip lives apart, as we see in this exciting new play by Mark Kemble. And Names packs a theatrical punch that should make it a wallop-sized hit, especially in this community so attuned to its theme. The Matrix, a theatre above all dedicated to the nurture and well-being of actors, is the right venue for its world premiere.
A crucial meeting of suspects is taking place in an Algonquin Hotel room, 1952. The program describes it as "a meeting that never happened." (Until now!) Playwright/director Kemble presents convincing evidence, fictionalized but fact-based, that it's a meeting that could, perhaps should, have happened among legendary members of the historic old Group Theatre, all products of Lee Strasberg's Studio. The House Un-American Activities Committee is hot on their heels, out for their blood. All are accused of being, or having been, and for the most part were, members of the Communist Party.
Rara avis present include, in addition to Greg Mullavey as their mentor, the great grey eminence Strasberg himself, John C. Mooney as a cocky, dark, doomed, sexy and essentially heart-breakingly tragic John Garfield; Charles Lanyer as solid, substantial New Republic drama critic Harold Clurman, who's also a doting, worried husband; Joel Polis, a scared, rabbity Clifford Odets; Clayton Landey, amusing and jauntily preening as peacock Luther Adler; Paul Lieber, calm, cool and collected as "Gadge," the amazingly pragmatic Elia Kazan who's making the best of lying in the bed he has made for himself. And Dixie Carter, stunning and smashing as nonpareil ex-actress Stella Adler putting a glamorous face on a plight she sums up for her husband, the (rather hen-pecked) Clurman: "[Now] I'm a teacher, and you're a critic. What a terrible turn of events!" A diva forever, her every entrance -- and exit -- is an occasion. Gil Cates, Jr. as Manny, an awe-struck star-struck "hop," boyish and ingratiating, offers quotidian relief from all this talent and temperament.
With their Group Theatre colleagues Joe Bromberg, Morry Carnovsky, Phoebe Brand and others, they all "made a mistake back then," and they know better now, probably. Elia Kazan sums it up: "I stopped being a Communist when I left the party, and that was 16 years ago." He sees the Party now as "morally disgusting and reprehensible;" he's an American and "wants to stay that way." He will name names for the Committee and urges the others to do the same. "Cooperate and they'll leave you alone. It's no disgrace."
Odets especially objects. In the throes of paranoia, he describes himself as "an over-the-hill ex-Commie agitprop playwright." The Committee is a threat to "freedom of thought and the survival of the Jews." And he's going to pieces. Strasberg admits being "suspicious of every new face that comes into the Studio," but he washes his hands of politics: "Put your politics into the work!" Mullavey, in his sterling performance as Lee, gets off one of the play's best lines: "I don't like Communism. It's like Christianity. Nice on paper but too many people get killed." Lee proves
himself a prophet with his prediction that his Studio "will remain long after we're gone." (Less accurate though about the Dodgers "playing exactly where they'll be playing forever -- in Brooklyn.")
Kemble directs his play like an expert, a rarity and risk for a playwright. His play is constantly exciting, replete with fascinating tidbits of theatrical history. Its dialogue is wittily humorous and trenchant. Its characters are well-drawn and compellingly acted, and its action escalates to the point of explosion.
Chris Bouchinsky is responsible for the set design, Doc Ballard for the lighting, Theresa Inman for the period costumes, Ruth Judkowitz for the sound, and all are excellent.
Remarkably, even-handed, intelligent, well-reasoned and dramatically effective, Names is a premiere worthy of celebration.
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