In Clifford Odets' last play, "The Big Knife," his hero says, "If you've got a message, call Western Union." Surprising as these words might be from the Odets pen, his latest play follows this advice; gone is the revolt against society which marked "Awake and Sing," "Waiting for lefty," and the rest; gone are the bitter characters who would shout out, "Life is written on a dollar bill." In their places we have conflict between individuals and other individuals, between an individual and himself.
"The Country Girl" is the story of a once-great actor who is given the opportunity to star again. Paul Kelly, remembered for his excellent performance in "Command Decision," returns in this role to give another fine portrayal.
After showing great promise in two plays, Frank Elgin left the legitimate stage for the movies. While in Hollywood he lost confidence in himself. Unwilling to admit this failure, he passes the blame on to his wife through the bitter, shadowy years of obscurity. It is at this the play takes up his story. A young director who remembered Elgin's early success needs a leading man when his contracted star leaves a new play. He calls on Elgin and the drama follows through the early rehearsals to the Broadway opening.
"The Country Girl" involves three characters; Elgin; his wife, played by Uta Hagen; and the director, played by Stephen Hill. As the inner play is prepared for New York, conflict develops between Elgin's wife and the director and Elgin's ability to return to stardom is doubted. Thus, tension rises and the three characters are in constant friction.
Odets dialogue is terse and vicious. Individual speeches are at once stirring and realistic. But it is not the speeches that make the play. He has woven them into a powerful action which completely absorbs the spectator.
The performers are uniformly excellent. Miss Hagen plays her role with all the sympathy that Odets intended. Hill too, is at ease in his demanding part, giving credibility to a difficult script. It is Kelly, however, who is most outstanding. He simple honesty, giving full evidence of his great acting ability.
Boris Aronson's sets are wonderfully faithful to the Odetsian scene. The squalor of a one-room flat is accented by a flowering red plant, an empty stage by a dramatic shadow. In a Broadway dressing room there is a feeling of glitter. Mr. Odets has directed the play himself, and except for a slow paced first act, his staging is effective.
The reopening of the Majestic as a legitimate theatre house has been marked by the return of Odets to his most brilliant form.