Jack -- A Night on the Town with John Barrymore
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Cast: Nicol Williamson (John Barrymore). Boasting that he never assaulted a fellow actor in his life -- except for that one little incident when he swatted a co-star with a sword -- Nicol Williamson sprints (often literally) into "Jack -- A Night on the Town With John Barrymore." The in-joke -- theatergoers will be more familiar with Williamson's stage-fight-gone-awry than Barrymore's -- isn't only accepted by the audience, it's practically demanded: Williamson's reputation precedes him, and the actor doesn't shy away from it or anything else during his energetic two-hours-plus onstage. That the actor outshines the character in this one-man show says as much about Williamson's commanding theatrical control as it does about the serviceable but unexceptional play he's co-written with Leslie Megahey.
Broken by drink, Hollywood and a string of failed marriages -- Barrymore calls his unions "bus accidents"-- the legendary Shakespearean actor, silent film idol and famous profile virtually invented the modern stereotype of the self-destructive movie star. He probably would have been terrific in "A Star is Born."
"Sometimes silence is the only noble response," Barrymore says as he quiets himself after ranting about his replacement in the movie. Unable to contain himself for more than a beat, he explodes: "Fredric fucking March?"
The line is a good one, Williamson's reading even better, in its virtual definition of the character: The imperial, haughty self-control always losing battle to the angry, insecure demons.
Just what made Barrymore so angry and insecure goes unexplained. Which came first, Hollywood? Alcohol? A lousy attitude toward women? Ego? The latter, probably, but "Jack" doesn't delve.
While the writers (Megahey also directed) deserve kudos for avoiding easy pop-psych Rosebuds, the approach limits the show's dramatic depth. Audiences aren't likely to learn more about Barrymore than they could from a Who's Who summary, even if they'll be more entertained by the presentation.
Bearing more than a passing resemblance in episodic structure and theatrical subject matter to Lynn Redgrave's "Shakespeare for My Father,""Jack" hits all the highs and lows of Barrymore's resume. This gives Williamson the chance to strut his stuff as he performs snippets of vaudeville buffoonery, "Richard III, ""Hamlet" and, finally, an alcohol-impaired Barrymore's futile attempts at remembering lines on a Hollywood soundstage.
The ultimate humiliation comes when the once-great (or near-great, at least) thespian is reduced to performing a cruel self-parody on a radio comedy program. Williamson mines the brief re-enactment for all the drunken self-pity it's worth.
Recalling happier times, Barrymore's love of acting, not to mention Williamson's re-creation of it, comes bursting through, most entertainingly in anecdotes about Barrymore's acting and voice lessons with the famed, fear-inducing coach Margaret Carrington. (As he does throughout the play, Williamson plays all the roles in the stories).
One exercise -- and a comic highlight of the play -- has Barrymore/Williamson in black tights running onstage, backstage and through the aisles as he huffs and puffs a word-perfect recitation from the Shakespeare canon.
The play also leads us through the failed battles with wives, studio moguls and, ultimately and fatally, booze.
Under Megahey's fast-paced direction, Williamson seems never to stop moving, barely pausing for breath as he ransacks the play for more humor and, less so, pathos than any other actor could find.
So naturally does he take to this role that his mind seems to race several seconds faster than his mouth, as if Barrymore were improvising an off-the-cuff tour through his life. At one point during the reviewed performance, Williamson tripped over a step, shouting an obscenity entirely in character with the bawdy Barrymore.
Near play's end, Williamson takes a sip from the ever-present whiskey bottle and, winking at the audience, slyly confides, "It's real." Maybe, maybe not, but even if the play offers nothing more than brown tea, Williamson leaves us wondering if he's drunk. And that's a compliment worthy of Barrymore.
Set, Bethia Jane Green; lights, Richard Winkler; sound, Christopher Bond. Opened April 24, 1996; reviewed April 23. Running time: 2 hours, 15 min.
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