January 2003 Archives

Jim Dale is jumping for joy. Literally. He rushes from the single digit temperatures and Artic winds of the New 42nd Street into the warmth of West Bank CafÈ and shakes himself down. It may be downright frigid outside [January 2003], but Dale is filled with the warmth of the accolades he and his cast in Trevor Griffiths' Comedians are receiving. The New Group's revival, directed by Scott Elliott, has many critics touting the ensemble as the best so far this season. Ticket sales have warranted a move, not to the large Off Broadway or Broadway theatre the producers were hoping for, but from the 99-seat Samuel Beckett to the 199-seat Acorn in the same Theatre Row complex.

"I don't know how I'll feel about that," says Dale. "It's my first 99-seater. Being in them, I always loved the intimacy; being onstage in one of them, I love it even more. The audience is right there in front of you. You don't have to do anything, you just have to be. It's not acting, you're just doing it. Of course, neither we or the producers can make any money in a 99-seater, but none of us [the cast] are doing it for the money. When I asked how much I would be paid, they asked, 'How much is your taxi fare?' Still," he smiles slyly as he pushes back his salt and pepper hair, "it would be nice if audience response keeps moving us into larger and larger theatres - until maybe we're on Broadway!"

Dale plays a retired British comic who teaches a Manchester class of working class wannabes looking to better their lives. Opposite him, in the other showy role is Ra˙l Esparza, playing the sensitive, "bad boy" role Dale originated in the 1977 West Coast production. Originally done on the West End two years earlier, Comedians opened on Broadway in November 1976 starring Milo O'Shea and Jonathan Pryce. It played for four months. Though critics have been enthusiastic about Dale, Esparza and company as a fine acting ensemble, some found Griffiths' play dated.

"I have an inkling why," Dale says. "One example is when my character Eddie Waters says to one of the fledgling comedians, 'That's a joke that hates women.' Trevor wrote it when he was in his late 30s. These days, it's more difficult to shock people. How can you possibly say that in 2003, when everyone has been inundated with Eminem and the outrageous people who call themselves comics do the most extreme jokes about women?"

However, he feels this "old horse" is being treated quite well. "Like anything old, you treat it with respect. You don't kick an antique table. You carefully dust it, preserve it." Comedians, says Dale, focuses on the death of the great tradition of the English music halls, similar to our vaudeville, which was eclipsed by television and bingo halls.

The time is the mid-70s and Eddie Waters, like so many other specialty acts, has no place to go. "He's been done in by the music hall policy of keeping the humor clean," notes Dale. "The comics moved on at week's end, but you had to get the audiences back again and again. If they were offended, they wouldn't return. And, especially in small towns, the music hall was, other than listening to the radio, the entertainment."

In the play, Waters, once a brilliant comic, when faced with the new reality refuses to lower his standards. Rather than retire, he decides to teach the art of comedy and tries to convince his students to go against the odds -- that "clean" is the way to go ["Comedy is medicine, not colored sweeties to rot their teeth"]. Part of the tension derives from the humor and hostility of who'll tow his line and who'll betray his philosophy. As they step into the spotlight for the first time and, right before your eyes, die, it's more like these rookies have gone into battle instead of onstage.

"Nothing is worse than a comic who can't get laughs," claims Dale. "It was a rare one, indeed, who could play those huge clubs seating two thousand people -- eating scampi, French fries and screaming their heads off and playing the slot machines. That poor bloke trying to attract their attention better be good. The agents scouting new acts and many of the comics felt the only way to do that was with crude humor. Give the public what they want."

Having played Gethin Price in Los Angeles, Dale knew what a powerful piece of theater Comedians is. "The actor I played opposite (in the role of Waters) wasn't strong. I couldn't bounce anything off him. He wasn't give me anything. He was a good actor, but he didn't have a clue what it was like to be a stand-up or an old-timer from the music halls. I did it from the time I was 17 [becoming the youngest comedian in that arena]. When Scott approached me and I read the script again, with 25 years of hindsight, it dawned on me that Eddie was a wonderful role."

Not only did he want to work with Elliott, but, he adds frankly, "I hadn't worked in over three years. I wanted to get back onstage. The idea of doing it in a 99-seat theatre fascinated me. Scott didn't expect me to say yes so quickly and, when I did, he said, 'Now, I've got to cast the play!"

He did, and with excellent results: William Duell, Max Baker, David Lansbury, Allan Corduner, James Beecherle, Jamie Harris, Ismail Bashey, David McCallum, Gordon Connell and Marcus Powell. "We're truly blessed to have so many remarkable actors," boasts Dale.

[Trivia: for the bingo hall pianist, Dale suggested the "marvelous" actor/musician who played the part in Los Angeles: Gordon Connell, the veteran actor who's been on Broadway since 1962 and who's the husband of actress Jane Connell, who played opposite Dale in Me and My Girl and Crazy for You. "Gordon's one of the best pianists," brags Dale, "and in Comedians he's playing the very same songs he played in 1977. He had them stashed in his filing cabinet."]

Dale explains that Comedians tests the cast's mettle. "They're being seen doing something very difficult. They're playing comics who aren't funny. It's hard for a good actor to be bad, but even harder for one to play a bad comic - because he doesn't understand what it's like to be a good comic."

But when there's a payoff, adds Dale, it's big. "In the music halls and, later [in his 20s], when I played the clubs and heard two thousand people roaring in laughter, it was the most incredible feeling! When you go into that spotlight and get that first laugh and that grows into roars of laughter, the hairs on the back of your neck shoot up. Hey, I've made somebody laugh. They're coming toward me, but they're not after me! It's an incredible feeling. And you're off and soaring into space."

Though he wasn't working onstage, don't think Dale hadn't been busy. For the last several years, he's provided the voices of several hundred characters on the Harry Potter audio books. He also portrayed Fagin in Cameron Mackintosh's lavish London revival of Oliver! There was a big, exciting role on the horizon. He was set to headline a stage adaptation of the 1953 fantasy film musical based on Dr. Seuss' The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. "I signed the contract on September 10, 2001, and, well, the rest is, as they say, history." He reports, "I haven't heard from the producers since."

Dale began training for his orbit at age nine, studying tap, ballet, acrobatics and martial arts. In his early teens, he was already a veteran of amateur shows. After service in the Royal Air Force, where he entertained troops, he became a successful pop singer. In his 20s, he was hosting the top British TV rock 'n roll show. The legendary George Martin of Beatles fame took him on to produce his records. In 1966, Dale was "quite taken by surprise" when he was invited to do Shakespeare at the Edinburgh Festival. Four years later, at the personal request of Laurence Olivier, he joined the British National Theatre and played leads in a host of classics. From there, he went to the Young Vic, where he first played the title role in Scapino, which he co-adapted with Frank Dunlop. That led to movies and the West End and, in 1974, to Broadway where Scapino became one of the season's biggest hits.

It's been non-stop movies, TV and stage roles here and over there since. Dale's something of a cult film figure here and in the U.K. for his antics in the popular Carry OnÖ series [now on DVD, with loads of his hilarious commentary]. He's received his share of theatrical accolades: 1975 Tony and Drama Desk Award nominations and the Outer Critics Circle Award for Best Actor for Scapino; 1989 Tony and Drama Desk Awards for Best Actor in a Musical, Barnum; 1985 Tony nomination for Best Actor and the Outer Critics Circle Award for Best Actor, A Day in the Death of Joe Egg; and 1995 Drama Desk and Outer Critics Circle Awards, Best Actor, Travels with My Aunt;

And did you know that Dale won an Academy Award Nomination for his lyrics to Georgy Girl, which became a monster hit? He's written songs for numerous films, but he's a bit embarrassed to run down the titles of some of them.

Just like Eddie Waters, Dale's been through it all. "I've always said I'd rather stay out of work than do crap. Unfortunately, that's often been the case. I've been sent up for a lot of much crap and I won't touch it with a ten foot pole. It won't bring me any good. I'd like those kind folks who've followed me for years and years wherever I've gone to always be proud."

Even though he received a 1997 Tony nomination for Best Actor, Musical, the Hal Prince-directed Candide revival was one job he was less than pleased with. "Basically, I wasn't being me but being asked to fill someone else's shoes. That was frustrating."

He says he can't look back on anything he's done and say it wasn't quality. "That's why I chose what I did and surrounded myself with the best people. And it couldn't get any better than it is in Comedians. It's a good crowd and we get on with each other. You create a little family and everyone's happy."

Star-on-the-rise Esparza, with recent acclaim for his work in the Kennedy Center Sondheim fest, Jonathan Larson's tick, tick...BOOM!, sexy Riff Raff in the Rocky Horror Show revival and a later emcee in Cabaret, could pretty well pick his roles. Dale is beyond delighted that he came aboard. Some of the best moments in Comedians are between Dale and Esparza, especially their intense exchanges late in Act Two. Esparza plays a forerunner to what we'd call a performance artist. He's a young man ahead of his time, and what he does onstage doesn't have audience appeal.

"Ra˙l is a daring actor," enthuses Dale. "Very few actors go to the extreme. He will. I admire his work ethic. I'm reminded of that lovely Christopher Logue poem : 'Come to the edge / We might fall / Come to the edge / It's too high! / Come to the edge / And they came / and we pushed / And they flew.' He goes to the edge. And he flies. And he doesn't crash."

Then it's different at every performance? "Absolutely. The lines are the same, but you never know what to expect from either of us. That's the challenge. It's lovely. Whatever mood Ra˙l's in, or whatever mood I'm in, is what's taken onstage. Sometimes it can backfire!" Dale breaks up laughing. "One night he looked at this man in the audience and swore at him. He said, 'Come up here. Come on!" And the guy climbed up onstage. Afterward, Ra˙l said, 'I have no idea what I was doing. I realized, I've got him on the stage and now I have to get him off. He went a little too far. He got carried away. But, why not? It was exciting. That's what acting is all about. That's what makes acting fun!"

--------

His "show" has been Broadway's longest extended run, pleasing audiences from New York to Des Moines and beyond for 82 years. His works have had the largest "draw" in theatrical history. The artist is no ordinary song and dance man, but Al Hirschfeld, whose witty, slightly caustic, warmly celebratory, right-on-the-mark caricatures have been pleasing audiences since 1925.

From the pages of The New York Times, he has gone on to grace Playbill covers, show logos and book covers. His caricatures are highly sought by Broadway insiders and gallery prices for his originals soar into the high five figures. Hirschfeld bound collections have been featured in such books as Hirschfeld By Hirschfeld (Dodd, Mead & Company), Hirschfeld's World (Abrams) and Show Business Is Not Business (reissued by DaCapo Press).

Mr. Hirschfeld was born June 22, 1903 in St. Louis. He passed away Monday [January 20, 2003] at age 99.

At age 12, his family relocated to New York. Recalled the artist, "I studied art until my instructor told my parents, 'There's nothing more we can teach him.' I loved drawing and pursued it starting in my early teens. My first real jobs were in movie studio art departments when New York had the first film colony." He said he never had the urge to be a "real artist" until he was 21. "But, when I got it, I went to Paris and, like any good American Bohemian, settled on the Left Bank. Those were Halcyon years. I grew a beard (that evolved into his now-famous Shavian look), wore wooden sabots, corduroy pants and lumberjack shirts."

Mr. Hirschfeld explained that his work "suffered from a serious lack of talent. But I was experimenting, and enjoying myself. And I was in Paris!" Eventually, he found watercolors more amenable, "but that phase never went beyond flirtation." He says that his real satisfaction as an artist "was drawing images in pure line form. I constantly challenged my control over it - how I could draw one line juxtaposed against another to cause such moods as anxiety, frustration, joy - with the addition of a meaningful line to cause happiness."

While doing a program drawing of French actor Sacha Guitry, Mr. Hirschfeld said he became "thunderstruck" at his theatrics and began doing things he hadn't planned. The caricature founds its way into The New York World. Not long after, he began receiving commissions from the Times, becoming the longest-running contract employee in the paper's history. And a theatrical legend.

In 1943, Mr. Hirschfeld married his second and late wife, Dolly Hass, one of Europe's most famous and beautiful actresses who also made Hollywood and Broadway appearances before retiring. Two years later, while he was in Philadelphia on an assignment, Dolly went into labor. He rushed back to New York, "where, after viewing our dog-tagged daughter, I returned to my studio to draw her as best I could under such nervous circumstances." The show he had been requested to sketch by New York Times drama columnist Sam Zolotow had a circus theme, "so on an imagined poster I drew an infant reading from a book and I printed her billing as Nina the Wonder Child.'"

And that's how another theatrical legend and an engaging game began. Mr. Hirschfeld "engaged in the harmless insanity of hiding Nina's name at least once in each caricature." Finding the Ninas in his Times sketches became as popular a pasttime as doing the crossword puzzle. "Though I began putting only one Nina in each, people kept saying they were finding more," said Hirschfeld sheepishly. "One reader asked if I could make his weekly task easier by putting the correct number of Ninas in a corner. So I obliged, right next to my signature."

Hirschfeld's thousands of caricatures cover all aspects of the arts: theater, film, TV, music, even politics. The artist said he does not intentionally present his subjects in unflattering portraits. "Except twice!" he noted with glee. Those are: the anti-Communist crusader and U.S. senator Joseph McCarthy (whom he showed extinguishing the Statue of Liberty flame) and legendary Broadway impresario David Merrick as a satanic Santa Claus. "Ironically," he laughed, "Mr. Merrick nevertheless purchased it and used it on his Christmas cards." In another swipe at Merrick, he drew him shooting ducks with the names of theater critics on them. "Merrick loved that one!"

Mr. Hirschfeld said, "I'm not sure whether my drawings are caricatures, a term these days which seems to imply a putdown or a malicious distortion. This is never my intention. 'Caricaturist' is a description of what I do, but I think of myself as a 'characterist.' Is a painting a drawing or a caricature? There is no language for aesthetics. I'm happy to say that no one thinks they are being made fun of in my drawings. Some of my subjects have told me they tried to imitate my interpretation of them. My goal is to convey a message of what the subject is thinking for doing."

The artist was presented with a special Tony Award in 1975 and in 1984 was the first recipient presented with the Brooks Atkinson Award, named in honor of the late and respected Times drama critic.

Mr. Hirschfeld worked from the back rows of theatres during rehearsals and previews, but alwasy maintained a daily routine in his studio from daybreak to often late at night creating work from his antique barber chair. Working in the dark confines of theatres led him to develop a system of hieroglyphics. "I jot down that so-and-so's eyes are like fried eggs," he explained, "or that so-and-so has hair like spaghetti [Bernadette Peters]. Once I get back to the studio, this helps brings back the image."

Theater has changed, Mr. Hirschfeld observed. "Performers used to be bigger than life. Now they don't look any more theatrical than people on the street. The Carol Channings, Ed Wynns, Eddie Cantors and Ethel Mermans used to invent themselves onstage. They were remarkable. Dietrich's eyebrows, [Mary] Pickford's curls and Streisand's nose and mouth could establish instant recognition."
He added that he gets less enjoyment from theater now. "The bravura in acting is gone for the most part. Actors try to imitate life rather than interpret it. And the way plays and musicals have been faring lately, the drawing has often lasted longer than the show."

Are some faces more difficult to draw than others? "No. What takes time is getting the drawing of the subject down to the very simple."
The greatest advantage of his work, extolled Mr. Hirschfield, "is that it's not work! I am fortunate. I do what most people aspire to do: have fun and get paid for it."

The artist learned on Friday that he had been elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters. He will also be one of the 2003 recipients of the National Medal of Arts. When he learned of that honor, he told Mrs. Hirschfeld, "It just goes to show that if you live long enough, everything happens."

This June the Martin Beck Theatre on West 45th Street will be renamed the Al Hirschfeld. Mr. Hirschfeld is survived by his daughter Nina and his long-time friend and third wife, Louise Kerz, whom he married in 1996.

--------