Heather J. Violanti, March 18, 2010
In reviving The Return of Peter Grimm by David Belasco,
Metropolitan Playhouse has once again resurrected an important piece of
American theatre history. Artistic director Alex Roe, who directed and
designed the set, has crafted a meticulous, respectful production that
breathes new life into Belasco's 1911 play (out of copyright, the full
text can be found here). Every element—cast, design, direction—works
in harmony to create an agreeable whole. It's not quite enough to shake
the dust off Belasco's dated moralizing (there are many syrupy
monologues about eternal reward and the virtues of motherhood), but the
production miraculously keeps sentiment at bay, respecting the text
without capitulating to its traps. What emerges is a poignant tale of a
man who tries to set things right with his family, a tribute to the
power of second chances.
The Return of Peter Grimm tells the story of just
that—Peter Grimm's return from the dead, compelled by the need to stop
the impending marriage between his adopted daughter, Catherine, and his
ne'er-do-well nephew, Frederick. Grimm set the marriage in motion as
his dying wish, but once he "knows better" (as he calls dying), he
realizes how wrong he was. Frederick is not the trustworthy heir he
imagined, but a mercenary cad. Poor Catherine (who wouldn't dream of
going back on her last promise to Grimm) is really in love with James,
Grimm's earnest assistant and secretary. The suspense lies in Grimm's
struggle to be heard among the living and overturn the marriage he once
demanded—but not even the good Doctor Macpherson, who delivers many a
long discourse on the then fashionable fad of spiritualism—can hear
him. It's up to Willem, the wide-eyed grandchild of Grimm's
housekeeper, to receive Grimm's message.
Roe's detailed set—a credible, multi-leveled version of a
much-loved, much-lived-in upstate cottage—well serves a play by
Belasco, a notorious stickler for detail. (Belasco allegedly threw a
tantrum when, in one production, a pitcher of syrup was brought on
stage when the script called for molasses). The lighting, designed by
Christopher Weston, pays careful attention to Belasco's deliberate
contrast of light and dark. (Belasco was a pioneer of lighting design
to create mood and image as well as a director and playwright). Sidney
Fortner (who also plays the role of busybody Rose Batholommey) has
fashioned period-accurate costumes that also reflect the eccentricities
of each character, particularly the determined old-fashioned-ness of
family patriarch Peter Grimm.
Broadway veteran Frank Anderson brings complexity to the title
role, making Peter Grimm avuncular yet rueful, jolly but thoughtful.
Helen Highfield makes ingenue Catherine endearing but not saccharine,
while Brad Fraizer brings poignancy to her would-be suitor, James. Ken
Ferrigni seethes with understated indignation as the villainous nephew
Frederick, giving him a smidgen of welcome humanity. Richard Vernon
epitomizes wisdom as Doctor Andrew Macpherson, even if he can't quite
overcome the fusty sales pitch of all the speeches endorsing the
wonders of spiritualism. Linda Blackstock makes a compassionate
housekeeper, Marta, while Sidney Fortner is suitably fussy as gossipy
neighbor Rose Batholommey. George C. Hosmer is appropriately reverent
as the Reverend, Rose's husband, and George Taylor creates both an
eerie Clown and a memorably petulant friend who wishes he had more
money from Grimm's will. Matthew Hughes brings a quiet gravity to the
pivotal role of Willem, the little boy on whom everyone's happiness
suddenly depends.
Under Roe's direction, the actors coalesce into an intimate
ensemble. The pacing was still a bit slow in the preview I saw, but it
should improve over time. Belasco's dramaturgy may seem predictable to
modern audiences (characters tend to take an awfully long time
explaining things we've already figured out ten minutes ago), but to
Roe and his cast's credit, the production demonstrates how nevertheless
affecting the play is. The quiet final scene is a masterfully
understated ending.
Reviewed by Erik Haagensen March 20, 2010
As I left the Metropolitan Playhouse after seeing David Belasco's
99-year-old melodrama "The Return of Peter Grimm," a slight riff on a
Shakespeare line popped into my head: Who would have thought the old
form to have had so much blood in it? Director Alex Roe has brought
this 1911 Broadway hit to vivid life by treating it with scrupulous
sincerity, restoring it with the same loving care one hopes is
currently being given by the Shubert Organization to the Belasco
Theatre, in which it debuted. The Bishop of Broadway's passion,
sentiment, and humor blaze anew in this canny vest-pocket production.
The prosperous owner of botanical gardens in upstate New York,
childless bachelor Peter Grimm looks to honor his Dutch ancestors by
securing the future of the family business through the marriage of his
ward, Catherine, to his nephew Frederik. What he doesn't know is that
Catherine prefers James, Grimm's secretary and son of one of his
gardeners. He also doesn't know that due to an untreatable heart valve
problem, he's soon to depart this world after 60 years. That's because
the good Dr. Macpherson has kept it from him. Just as Grimm maneuvers
Catherine into accepting Frederik's hand in marriage, he dies. Her
unhappiness calls her guardian's spirit back, and he soon learns that
the supposedly dutiful and loving Frederik is a manipulating fraud who
intends to sell the business and spend the fortune. As no one can see
or hear him, Grimm's ghost struggles to find a way to prevent the
marriage. His savior may be 8-year-old Willem, his housekeeper's
grandson, a frail lad with whom Grimm has always been close. Will Grimm
reach Willem? And if he does, will anyone believe the boy? It's a fine
kettle of pickled herring.
Without a Grimm, that's exactly what the evening would be. Fortunately,
Roe has the terrific Frank Anderson, whose commanding performance as
the merchant effortlessly mixes stubbornness, charm, eccentricity,
willfulness, longing, and sentimentality. Anderson is grandly effective
in an accusatory scene with Frederik, in which Grimm's ghost thunders
to be heard. Ken Ferrigni humanizes the villainous nephew just enough
to avoid mustache twirling, doing very well by his outburst at the
hypocrisies he has had to endure to gain his inheritance. Brad
Fraizer's simple, plainspoken James is wisely and attractively
understated.
As the object of their affections, Helen Highfield focuses on
Catherine's love for her guardian, making her sacrifice of her future
happiness completely believable, then is equally convincing with her
character's near-feminist awakening. Richard Vernon's prickly,
self-assured doctor delivers Belasco's paeans to spiritualism with
iconoclastic flair. Matthew Hughes is a fine Willem, if perhaps just a
bit too robust for the sickly boy, sidestepping the trap of turning him
into a saintly Tiny Tim–like stereotype. As his stoic grandmother,
Linda Blackstock makes a big impression in a small part. As the
ineffectual local reverend and his prim wife, George C. Hosmer and
Sidney Fortner are, alas, rather bland, while George Taylor does what
he can with the one-scene and one-dimensional role of a grasping friend
of Peter's (Taylor is more successful in a brief appearance as a circus
clown).
After seeing the play, I reacquainted myself with RKO's 1935 film
version, starring the brilliant Lionel Barrymore. At a brief 83 minutes
(the stage production runs two hours and 40 minutes), it not only plays
like a "greatest hits" rendition; it is also notable for all the
censoring and softening. Gone entirely are Belasco's salvos at
organized religion. Downplayed are his support for women's rights,
scientific inquiry, and questioning of tradition. It seems that 24
years later, he was a bit too hot to handle. The king of melodrama
dangerous: Who knew?
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