“For me to think I would be nominated for a Tony when the nominations came on my 25th day on Broadway would have been totally unrealistic. “
P. Diddy
Reading a quote like this in Entertainment Weekly, one can only sigh, or in my case, go into apoplexy. While Mr. Diddy was as gracious as the situation demanded, perhaps it’s never occurred to him that maybe he wasn’t delivering a noteworthy performance. Or that the well-publicized incident (when he had trouble relating to his character's financial problems) might have tipped his hand. Co-stars, media, friends, even some critics were deferential, I suppose, because they didn’t want to seem arrogant or deprecating. Why would young people need Diddy’s inclusion to see a play written by Lorraine Hansberry, an African American who was a genius, a prodigy, and years ahead of her time?
In an attempt to bring a new generation of theater-goers to the play, P. Diddy was given a starring role in A Raisin in the Sun. Assuming Diddy believes RITS's message, why did he deprive a capable, talented actor who could have used the break? Why didn’t he donate tickets so kids could see it for free? Isn’t success and distinction in his chosen field enough? And if serious, why didn’t he get the training and pay his dues first, instead of walking into a role he clearly didn’t deserve? Even in a time when Broadway has become a candy factory with empty whiz-bang special effects and canned music, this is a new low. It no longer matters if they are creating memorable theatre, they just want to recoup their investment.
At the beginning of Broadway: The Golden Age, Ann Miller observes that they never thought of those days (1940’s-70’s) as a golden age, but looking back, she supposed it was. And like a savvy attorney, Director Rick McKay makes his case almost exclusively on the basis of testimony. You can tell the actors he asks the crucial question are trying to be polite, which makes the sad conclusion just seem all the more unmistakable. An institution that used to be a Mecca for the most brilliant creative minds of its time is fast becoming just another investment opportunity for moguls to exploit. Philistines who would produce a *** fight if they thought it would net them some serious bucks.
You’d have to be naive to think any documentary doesn’t have a viewpoint to sell, but I was leery because this one already sounds like a valentine to yesteryear: Broadway: The Golden Age By The Legends Who Were There. I should explain that I have been a devoted drama queen since attending a local production of Carousel at the age of ten. And McKay’s Broadway is indeed a valentine to a time when Broadway thrived on talent, zeal, dedication and boundless energy.
A time when directors, producers, actors, choreographers, wardrobe, lighting and set designers, cared about creating dramas and musicals that were challenging, intelligent, witty, controversial and stirring. As one of the actors interviewed explained the difference between Theatre and Film, in a play, “you’re all breathing the same air.” One of the glories of attending a live performance is sharing a spontaneous, unrepeatable moment in time. When the actor makes the character real for you then and there.
The structure of Broadway is not unique. McKay intersperses anecdotes with stills and footage to illustrate the narrative. What’s intriguing is how captivating and affecting the film is, considering the apparent sum of its parts. Its strength comes from the passion and avid interest of the “witnesses” McKay has lined up: Carol Channing, Ben Gazzara, Uta Hagen, Julie Harris, Elaine Stritch, Stephen Sondheim, Elizabeth Ashley, Harold Prince, Martin Landau, Jerry Orbach, and countless others. There is something about the actors. Something in their voices and eyes, as if seized upon by some urgent truth when describing a performance by Laurette Taylor as the quintessential Amanda Wingfield, or Gazzara remembers Tennessee Williams in the front row, opening night of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.
Forty, fifty years later you can still feel their primal joy in performing. How they loved the hard work and precision and raw electricity of theatre at its most remarkable. These were the days when actors forged careers every night in the crucible of New York Theatre. When they struggled and drank and lived and cadged meals together. When four actresses bought one dress to use for auditions. When you might take a musical on the road till you hammered out all the problems. When, as McKay explains, Hollywood came to New York for material instead of the other way around.