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It is tantalizing to wonder what success the play
might have had given a full production with a star who was
excited about the play. Following the two productions the Lunts never
performed in O’Neill again. The Theatre Guild, however, was
to continue with other successful productions of his plays in the
future. A major result of the productions was to cause Lunt and Fontanne, or the
Lunts, as they were nearly always called, to
demand that the Theatre Guild give them contracts in which it was
clear that they would always costar and never perform
separately. This continued throughout their career as they performed
in Idiot’s Delight and other great successes. They never again performed
apart on the stage and only in 1966 did she appear
separately on television in Anastasia. Earle Larimore performed with Fontanne in Strange
Interlude and was praised for his interpretation of Sam Evans.
Like so many actors who never became big stars, his name is nearly
forgotten now. He was an actor O’Neill liked very much and who performed
in many of his plays. The Lunts liked him, too, and he had performed with
success in their production of The
Doctor’s Dilemma. He made his acting debut in 1925. He soon
began acting in the prestigious productions of the Theatre Guild,
appearing in Behrman’s The
Second Man, Howard’s The
Silver Cord and Mourning
Becomes Electra, Behrman’s Biography with the charming Ina Claire, and in O’Neill’s Days
Without End. Carl Van Vechten is quoted by the Gelbs as saying
that Larimore was one of the few actors O’Neill liked
“because he wasn’t a star.” 60 Actually,
O’Neill may have liked him because he didn’t behave like a star. They
became acquainted and got on well during the rehearsals for Strange
Interlude. Critics and O’Neill liked Larimore’s work in that play. Brooks Atkinson paired him with Fontanne in having the technique appropriate for the play, saying that they showed “admirable distinction and resourcefulness. More than any of the others they have mastered the technique of this strange play; without upsetting the flow of drama they contrive to give their ‘asides’a true value. Meanwhile they describe two characters completely. One cannot speak too highly of their skill.” Larimore continued to please the critics, especially in Mourning Becomes Electra in 1931. Noting that he was an established actor, Robert Garland said that he was “at his skillful best.” He was regarded as a modern actor who approached a role, as Brooks Atkinson noted, “from the inside with great resource, elasticity, and understanding.” Arthur Pollock wrote, “Earle Larimore is the tortured son, bringing all his fine feeling to the role.” Writing about the Theatre Guild years later, Lawrence Langner wrote, “Earle Larimore’s Orin was so flawless that you felt Orin in person was appearing on the stage.”61 The Gelbs quote Selena Royle, the actor’s wife, saying of O’Neill, “I never remember his saying anything about Larry to me, but I believe that Larry was his favorite actor. I know he realized that Larry had much the same problem about alcohol that he himself had conquered, but it was not his way to advise or caution. Gene gave Larry several books and bound proofs of his plays, some of which had his corrections written down in longhand, and all of which had affectionate dedications.” Because of the affection both Carlotta and Eugene O’Neill had for Larimore, they were very welcoming and gracious when all four met for tea.62 These occasions occurred with frequency because Selena Royle was cast opposite her husband in O’Neill’s play Days Without End. In his clever, topical comedy Accent on Youth, Samson Raphaelson portrays a playwright who writes and presents a play that turns out to be a nice success. He remarks, “You know, I never thought that play would be just an ordinary success. I thought it would be a great hit—like an O’Neill play. Or else a terrible disaster—like an O’Neill play.”63 In 1934, Days Without End was an example of the latter. Despite fine acting by Larimore (whose wife was less successful), direction by Philip Moeller, and handsome settings by Lee Simonson, the play was a critical failure and only ran as long as necessary for the Theatre Guild subscribers to see it. Larimore’s work with Moeller and the Theatre Guild continued, and in the 1940s he toured with Eva Le Gallienne’s company. However, he suffered bad health and turned to playing in soap operas on the radio. His marriage had collapsed, possibly because of his drinking problems. His last work with and for O’Neill came when he was an understudy for The Iceman Cometh and performed in it on the road. He later performed in A Moon for the Misbegotten, which the Theatre Guild toured but did not bring in to New York. He died at the early age of forty-eight in 1947. His career was filled with successes in important plays, but many critics felt he reached his height in Mourning Becomes Electra. An unidentified critic wrote, “Earle Larimore reaches the highest point in his career in the acting of Orin, a constantly emotional role in which he is entirely free from the falsity of average theatrical neuroticism and alert in conveying the tortured relationships which swirl around him.” |
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Brady was born in 1892 and made her stage debut in 1909, having studied voice at the Boston Conservatory of Music. Her father was an important Broadway producer who had been a friend of O’Neill’s father. O’Neill wrote to Agnes that “She is a good scout but rather a rough neck, a real daughter of her eminent father, Bill.”65 Because of the connection and because of the fact that he admired her acting and that they both shared an enthusiasm for dogs, O’Neill was very friendly toward Brady during rehearsals. He may have also been moved by the circumstances of her career to date. She had looks, talent, and the connections of her famous father, but she didn’t seem to have much luck. Many supporters predicted that she would be a star in her next role, but she was in at least a dozen failures. She acted in silent films and by 1923 had been in thirty-two. Her father tried to assist her in becoming a stage success, although he had earlier tried to stop her from becoming an actress by sending her to a convent. In addition to the troubles provided by the weak plays she was in, she had brittle bones and often broke a finger or an arm. After she played Lavinia, Wilella Waldorf wrote a long article surveying her career, beginning by saying, “After a staggering series of negative roles in negative plays, Alice Brady finally found her way into a part.” Waldorf said that the announcement that Brady would play the role caused little excitement, but that the opening caused all the critics to praise her, one saying she was “like the young Siddons rising to her opportunity.” Although the rehearsals went smoothly, the role was very difficult for Brady. O’Neill and his wife Carlotta attended all seven weeks of rehearsals. He was constantly working with Philip Moeller to cut and strengthen the script. Therefore, Brady, who had the longest role, was particularly challenged just by learning the words. She was terribly nervous before the opening because she was afraid she might say some of the old lines or leave out some of the new ones. Not surprisingly, she and Nazimova (such different types) did not like each other. That didn’t seem to cause problems, but rather to enhance the hatred between their characters in performance. The play opened on October 27,1931, at four o’clock so the critics would be able to make their deadlines. Later, the play opened at five o’clock, allowed a dinner break, resumed and played until nearly midnight. Brady was praised for many qualities, but particularly for her voice. Brooks Atkinson wrote, “Miss Brady as Lavinia has one of the longest parts ever written. None of her neurotic dramatics in the past has prepared us for the demoniac splendour of her Lavinia. She speaks in an ominous full voice. Lavinia has recreated Miss Brady into a majestic actress.” Percy Hammond spoke of her as “brooding and majestic ...stark, glacial, vengeful and dominating, even when she displays the mannerisms of a spinster schoolmarm.” Arthur Pollock described her as playing with “austere beauty.” John Mason Brown said that she gave the kind of performance her admirers had been waiting for so long. “It is controlled. It has the force of the true Electra and it is sustained throughout as a long and severe an actor’s test as any player has been called upon to meet. The moments when she stands dressed in black before the black depths of Mr. (Robert Edmond) Jones’ doorways are moments that no one can forget who has felt their thrill.” In fact, the reviews were the sort that few actresses ever receive in a lifetime, and that Brady had been waiting for through many years and many plays. Arthur Ruhl gave a long description that gives details of the performance, particularly the dominating quality of the actress. He remembered “the stony mask of implacable hatred, the coldly passionate driving force of an unconquerable will. But what a will! What an air of defying gods and men, yielding to no restraining force, earthly or unearthly, whatsoever that would balk her purposes.” Again, he noted the importance of her well-trained, beautiful voice, which enabled her to move through the long role with no strain: “Above all, what a voice!—the voice, the cold relentlessness of that pallid mask, the air of clutching all those about her in the steely fingers of her purpose, had that just-rightness which comes only at the rarest intervals in the theatre.” That “just-rightness”characterized the whole performance. O’Neill’s play, directed by Philip Moeller, with stunning scene designs by Jones, and with the marvelous cast, created an effect that people would remember years later. As an unidentified critic wrote, “In the moment when Lavinia, in black, stands framed between the white pillars of the House of Mannon, the sunset dying at her feet, the course of passion run—in that moment, playwright, performer, and artist (Jones) came together in a superb conclusion that belongs as completely and solely to the theatre as Mr. O’Neill himself.” Brooks Atkinson related the powerful impact of the whole play, but especially the performance of Brady on the mind—the unforgettable quality of it all. He and other critics moved Brady from that position of actress-trying-to-make-it to top-rank star. In his second review of the play he wrote that Brady was the “spearhead of the whole,” playing with a force difficult to describe. “To say that it is the best performance she has given is no faint praise, but it is too faint. It is one of the finest performances any contemporary actress has given in any role. At times it is breath taking, at times frightening. I shall never forget one appearance of hers, in black against the blackness of an empty room, white hands, white implacable face.” Unforgettable, indeed. Although Brady went on to other roles on the stage, when she died, she was chiefly remembered for Lavinia. She achieved another great peak in her film career in 1938 when she won the Academy Award for best supporting actress for the film In Old Chicago. She was also an excellent comedienne as is clear in her delightful performance as the giddy mother in My Man Godfrey. When she was in Go West Young Man (1936) with Mae West, the sultry actress found her too much competition, so she cut down Brady’s role. Brady did not have long to enjoy her triumphs. She died in 1939 at the age of 46, after thirty years in show business. Alla Nazimova had an entirely different sort of career. She was born in Yalta, Russia, in 1879. She had extensive training on the violin, studied in Switzerland, and was trained for theatre by Nemerovich-Danchenko and Stanislavsky. After acting in stock companies in Russia, she acted the lead in Ibsen’s Ghosts in St. Petersburg. She toured to England and Germany and then came to the United States in 1906, performing in Russian. She was such a sensational success that Lee Shubert offered her a weekly salary of $100, English lessons, and twenty percent of the profits for her forthcoming performances in English. She worked with a tutor for three hours a day, six days a week. She captivated audiences with her Hedda Gabler in 1906 and later revived the role. She was obviously capable of playing many different types of characters, but both onstage and in films she was often cast as a vamp. She made a fortune, which she spent on lavish homes and a luxurious lifestyle. Her biographer, Gavin Lambert, quotes her as saying, “When one is a star, one lives like a star.”66 In 1918 she performed in one of the great highlights of the American theatre, an Ibsen season directed by Arthur Hopkins. She played Hedda Gabler, Nora, and, surprisingly, fourteen-year-old Hedwig in The Wild Duck. Pauline Lord greatly admired Nazimova in these roles and Nazimova praised Lord for her performance in Spellbound. Theatre Magazine chose Nazimova for the prestigious Actress of the Year Award for the Ibsen season. She played in more films, some of which Shaw saw, prompting him to suggest that the Theatre Guild cast her as his Saint Joan. But Lawrence Langner was doubtful about the bad habits she had picked up in film acting. He changed his mind after seeing her perform in Chekhov with Eva Le Gallienne’s Civic Repertory Company and hired her to act in the Theatre Guild’s production of A Month in the Country. Lambert says that she was initially disappointed with Mourning Becomes Electra, but reread it and decided to accept the role of Christine.67 As a young man, O’Neill had been enchanted by Nazimova when he saw her as Hedda Gabler in 1907. He often told people that he had seen it ten times and that this performance of Ibsen had opened his eyes to the possibilities of modern drama. For him, Nazimova had both the qualities he admired in the old school of actors (represented by his father) and the newer actors like Larimore who “acted from the inside,” playing the psychological subtleties of the character. Lambert quotes her views about acting: “The theatre is bigger than life. Reality, yes! But real reality is dull—it has no technique. It belongs in the kitchen, in the laundry. We must give (the) illusion of reality by good acting. Otherwise, stay in the kitchen, stay in the laundry. But tell me, why are so many young actors afraid to act?” 68 Lunching
with her before rehearsals began, O’Neill told her how much he had
enjoyed her as Hedda. He did not mention the concerns he had expressed in
a telegram to Theresa Helburn: “WOULD BE
GRAND IF CAN BE DIRECTED TO ACT AS SHE DID IN FIRST IBSEN PRODUCTIONS AND CUT OUT HAM MANNERISMS ACQUIRED
LATER.” This is
often interpreted as another snide crack at actors, but, in fact, as early as 1914 Nazimova was
criticized for grimacing and posturing, which disqualified her “for any sort
of play in which realism was an important element.” By 1920 she was
widely criticized for self-parody and overacting.69 Under Moeller’s direction Nazimova was at her best, which reassured the playwright. During rehearsals he was very cordial and, in fact, acceded to her wishes on many occasions. According to Lambert, after O’Neill had made many cuts during the rehearsals, Nazimova suggested further changes, which he made for the performance (not for the published text). For example, she was jealous of Brady because her role continued after she, as Christine, had killed herself. She managed to upstage Brady at the end of Part Two by persuading O’Neill that she should not be in a dead faint on the floor, but should rise “on one arm, not yet fully conscious, staring before her dazedly,” and then call on her lover for help, saying, “Adam! I’m afraid! Adam!...” 70 Nazimova was a very well-educated woman with intelligence as well as charm and beauty. Her performance as Christine was not something that surprised critics, but that reinforced their opinion that she was a great actress capable of performing the great roles. She was famous for her supple and theatrical movement and critics used the term “plastic,” making a comparison to a beautiful piece of sculpture. Brooks Atkinson wrote in his first review, “she gives a performance of haunting beauty, rich in variety, plastic, eloquent, and imaginatively transcendent.” Arthur Pollock captured the essence of what impressed O’Neill: “Alla Nazimova plays the mother with that plastic intelligence which, mistress of a personality as plastic, makes her a precious actress these days.” Robert Garland noted that “Madame Nazimova’s accent gets thicker the longer she is in America.” Nevertheless, he found her “plastic and glamorous, a theatrical thing to see.” John Hutchens wrote, “Alla Nazimova’s Christine is a sinister and deeply realized creation, all her fine technical resourcefulness responding flawlessly to the role.” Several critics pointed to the challenge of the variety of moods and motivations O’Neill created in Christine, his modern counterpart of Clytemnestra. In his second review, Atkinson wrote that her performance was more varied than Brady’s “as the part necessitates (and is) one of high artistry. Hers is a moving, subtle, marvelously complete portrait of the mother-murderess, lover, tortured victim of hatred and remorse, mother who schemes even while she caresses her son.” Arthur Ruhl, too, compared the challenges each of the actresses faced with their contrasting roles. He said that Nazimova played a possessive mistress, a reluctant wife, a loving mother to the “more than normal filial quality of her son,” and that she did it all with “the virtuosity, the flexible magnetism and persuasiveness of the accomplished artist.” Percy Hammond described one of the great theatrical moments of which Nazimova was capable: “Caught in the complicated trap of her destiny she shoots herself after a moment or two of irresistible histrionics. I shall not forget what she did to my emotions last evening as she walked up the steps ...defeated, desperate, and planning to blow her brains out: the theatre’s most subtly effective climax as far as I know.” Greta Garbo was so impressed by Nazimova’s performance that she came to see it several times. According to Lambert, she “sneaked in and out of the theatre through a side door opened by someone from the Guild’s publicity office.”71 The reviews excited audiences and they poured in to see the lengthy play, willing to pay $6.60, which was $2.20 higher than the next highest ticket price, for the Ziegfeld Follies. O’Neill, the play, the performers—all were the talk of the town. Nazimova was asked to write comments about the play for The Modern Thinker and Author’s Review. She said that O’Neill’s trilogy was hard on the actors, but fascinating because the characters are “mysterious! They are half mask, half character.” 72 Lambert suggests that there was a great deal that was mysterious about Nazimova, perhaps even to herself. As a lesbian, for the latter part of her life, Nazimova was forced to wear a mask, especially in 1930 when “people began to speculate” about her long relationship with a young woman.73 Her relationships with men and women and her professional choices were often incomprehensible. Although she played some successful stage roles after Christine, notably in The Good Earth and Ghosts, in the late 1930s she returned to Hollywood where she was no longer the star in the films she made. She was forced to sell her Long Island home and lived in an apartment in the Garden of Alla, her former mansion that was now operated as a hotel. Her fame was almost totally eclipsed. Her goddaughter was Nancy Davis (later Reagan). Seeing Nazimova in the small apartment writing her memoirs, she thought, “How terrible it must be for her after all that fame and glamour.” An interview shortly before her death quotes her as saying, “I’ve reached the heights but it’s been a puny success. I could have done so much more.” 74 Although she wasted much of her great talent on inferior plays and films, she will always be remembered for her performances in Ibsen and in Mourning Becomes Electra. For O’Neill the play brought the pleasure of a successful production, particularly as far as Larimore’s acting was concerned. He wrote to Dudley Nichols that that second cast for the tour was quite good, though of course not up to Nazimova and Larimore, “whom I think has done the finest work of them all.” 75 However, after the production was over O’Neill gave the impression that he had not liked the performances of the two women. The Gelbs quote an interview in which he said, “Alice Brady and Alla Nazimova gave wonderful performances in Mourning Becomes Electra, but they did not carry out my conception at all. I saw a different play from the one I thought I had written.” Carlotta explained his statement to the Gelbs. She said that as the rehearsals progressed, he became “fascinated by the characterizations of the two women.” But she noted that they were not what he had imagined when he created the French and Dutch Christine and the New England Lavinia.76 Actually, it isn’t unusual for a playwright (or a director) to admire an actor’s performance without thinking the actor fulfills his/her conception of the role.
An actor who fulfilled O’Neill’s idea of a role
was, rather surprisingly, George M. Cohan. The announcement that Cohan was
to perform for the Theatre Guild was a big shock; that he was to perform
in a play by Eugene O’Neill was an even bigger shock. In fact, the whole
idea seemed somewhat preposterous. How would the grave and earnest tragic
writer put up with the shenanigans and ego of the old actor with
old-fashioned outlooks, seemingly wedded to the melodramas and slight
farces of the past? As techniques in theatre had changed, Cohan had not.
When the lighting designer Abe Feder introduced a new method of stage
lighting into rehearsals, Cohan famously declared, “My mother had a
spotlight, my father had a spotlight, and I will have a spotlight.”
(This was as often quoted as
his curtain speech of thanks using the same phrasing.) An unidentified
clipping observed with wonder that Cohan had come into the kingdom of the
Emperor Jones, that it would be his first appearance in something he had
not at least partially written, and, since he would not sing or dance, it
would be a Strange Interlude in his career. |
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