Keir Dullea, Matt Savitto and Marsha Mason
by Sam Juliano
When the film version of Robert Anderson’s stage play I Never Sang For My Father opened in the first year of the seventies, the response was muted but respectful. The Broadway show’s director Gilbert Cates, was on board to helm the screen version, and he was seen by many as an unimaginative and cautious director who would do little to open up the claustrophobic confines of the material. As it turned out Cates didn’t demonstrate any particular cinematic propensity, despite the advantage of film in utilizing exteriors and drmatic flashbacks, but his two lead actors were so electrifying, that today this film has built a rather impassioned and deserved cult reputation, despite studio indifference that has blocked a legitimate American DVD release. An excellent widescreen German print, however, with the title Kein Lied Fur Meinen Vater, has been mastered in region 2 and is presently available. But what Melvyn Douglas and Gene Hackman did (Pauline Kael said at the time they fueled ‘bargain basement dramatury to suprisingly powerful effect) to peel away the surfaces of their troubled characters was setting the bar too high for subsequent stage productions, where that level of artistry could never be even approached, much less equaled.
While Anderson, who admits I Never Sang For My Father is largely autobiographical, had managed to secure releases for about a half dozen plays on Broadway through the fifties and sixties, only the first one, Tea and Sympathy was a major hit on stage and on screen, with Vincente Minnelli directing the movie. Yet, years later (Anderson just passed away recently) I believe I Never Sang For My Father has retained it’s universality in a way that his other work hasn’t quite managed. True, it lacks the lyricism of the work of Tennessee Williams or Arthur Miller, but it’s so true to life and jolting, that many will find some parallels in their own lives while registering the pain of loneliness, ostracization and familial dominance that was the core of this deeply-moving work. The plot is rather simple: Gene Garrison (Matt Servitto) looks on with mounting anxiety as his septuagenarian parents (Keir Dullea and Marsha Mason) slide inexorably toward decrepitude and death. Gene adores his mother, but has never been able to accept the severe ‘limitations’ of his father, a self-made Babbitt and former Board of Education president and Rotary member, who talks about ten times more than he listens. When Gene’s mother dies unexpectantly he tries one last time to penetrate the thick vaneer of his father’s vanity and forge a tie of true intimacy. Gene’s sister (Rose Courtenay) who was disowned by the father after she married a Jewish man, returns to afford her dear brother some sage suggestions.
The strength of I Never Sang For My Father is that it never segues into sentimentality (no easy task in light of the melodramatic material being played out here) and apart from some high-minded bloviations, it’s conflict and resolutions ring true. Even the catch phrase “Death ends a life. But it does not end a relationship” has a poignant underpinning, and the stage delivery by Mr. Servitto (Gene Hackman on screen) is compellingly elegiac. With the recent outbreak of many more cases of Alzheimer’s and the coming to terms with aging by children at a period where many are living longer, the relevance of Anderson’s remembrance takes on a far more meaningful aspect, if not a pointed study of a relationship that never clicked. Gene’s character is perhaps the most fascinating in that it’s always a tense acceleration to his eventual explosion in a bedroom scene that ranks among the most extradinary dramatic segments in American theatre, one that includes revelations of familial hatred (the elder Tom for his own father, who was a drunk, and who died alone of consumption) love (by Tom for his own petit mother), and the obstinant failure to compromise. This eventually turns a potentially ‘connecting’ moment to one of rejection and final separation. But Anderson, subsequently, in some powerful asides reveals that there’s a deep and unsettling wound that won’t allow the son to ever find the ellusive peace he was sure would inform advancing age. (“When I here the word father…it matters…)
As Tom, Keir Dullea never quite goes beyond the surface cantankerous and male bravado of the character, that Melvyn Douglas did on-screen, and some others have managed in other stage productions. Dullea, is really all attitude here, never suggesting the real obstacles for familial compatibility, and his performances is cold and distancing, which is really a fatal flaw for this work. As Gene, Matt Servitto is rather posturing, but he is firm and deliberate (again no Gene Hackman by a country mile) but still able to effectively navigate the stormy waters of a relationship where for most of the time he’s evincing agreement. Marsha Mason, though she doesn’t look old and frail enough to play the beloved family matriarch Margaret, is an intelligent actress that peels aways the emotional layers to realize a selfless character, who admits they is lucky to have her son living nearby as long as they have. Unfortunately, Mason doesn’t have all that much stage time to work with, and dies off mid-way through. As Alice, Rose Courtenay is way too mannered and superficial, showing none of the deeply felt hurt and sincerity that Estelle Parson managed on screen, but it’s rather a thankless role.
The director Jonathan Silverstein, wisely sticks here with a skeletally simple set, with modest furniture and props, and effective use by the actors of vigorous ad-libbing. The Clurman Theatre is an intimate place, where basic lighting works in highlighting the narration (not onrunning) and the inactive darkened characters in the backround. It’s a servicable production, but with the acting a mixed-bag, one can never be on Anderson’s wave-length both intellectually and emotionally. I Never Sang For My Father deserves a high-octane treatment, which sadly isn’t delivered with this relatively tepid production.
Note: Lucille, Broadway Bob and I attended this stage play on Wednesday evening, April 14th at the Clurman Theatre on 42nd Street. It ran two hours, including one ten-minute intermission. We dined befor the show at Ollie’s Noodles across the street.
I’ve long known of your strong feelings for Anderson’s work, so I can imagine how disappointed you were with this stage production. But I think it’s tough to compare any new show that Douglas-Hackman film, which was directed by the original stage director. And those actors were the best for the roles. This is really an outstanding review.
I’m curious, is the Clurman Theatre part of Theatre Row on 42nd Street?
Thanks very much Frank. The Clurman is indeed situated in that Theatre Row. it’s a cozy little intimate theatre that is perfect for minimalist dramatic plays.
I am surprised that a small off-Broadway production would land names like Dullea, Servitto and Mason. This tells you that Anderson’s work is highly respected in dramatic circles.
Joe, this play is very well regarded, and it provides actors with some dynamic dramatic material.
I must say I am surprised that Dullea didn’t excel with this role. Still, Melvyn Douglas is in a class by himself, and he played the role at the right age.. Douglas had two great performances in his later years, this one and as Ben in Being There. I think it’s difficult to compare small-scale stagings with a film that tackles a work full-throttle, with the best actors out there. But I’d be looking over my shoulder so to speak, as well.
Beautifully-written theatre review, Sam.
Thanks so much Peter. To be honest, I really couldn’t see Dullea in this role. But he was OK, jut not as ‘beneath the surface’ as Douglas and I’m sure some other stage actors have managed. What you say there about always using the film version as a model is so true.
Hi! Sam Juliano,
I most definitely, have to second Peter’s notion…your review of Robert Anderson’s ‘I Never Sang For My Father’ at the Clurman Theatre is very well written (Especially, your feeling(s) about the play…) and is very descriptive too!(With your description of the surroundings…For instance, The stage setting, etc, etc, etc…)
Thanks, for sharing!
DeeDee 😉 🙂
Dee Dee: Thanks so much for the very kind words and the attentiveness to the essence of a theatre review. I do have the film on a very fine bootleg DVD, so I will definitely make sure you see it!
I loved the movie, and couldn’t imagine anyone replacing Douglas and Hackman. But if a work is to endure (as this one seems destined to) it needs fresh interpretations. Maybe you were a bit too hard on Mr. Dullea.
Your theatre reviews are wonderful.
Karen: I know well and long appreciate you love for Anderson’s work. Yeah, don’t go by my harsh assessment of Dullea, especially as a good share of the theatre critics are praising him here. Thanks for the exceedingly kind words.
Although I am not familiar with the play, your description makes it worth viewing, although, considering the date of the Hackman/Douglas film, that sounds like the one to see.
Very nice review, and there’s nothing like being in a small theater.
I once saw a friend in SF, in the Mission District and it was below street level, with pipes over our head.
Obviously, never forgot the theater…….
Ah Michael, a theatre like that can never be forgotten for sure. And I think we are always more fond of those backdrops that the boring, conventional ones. And seeing a friend even makes it more unforgettable. I am sure you will love the film, as the acting is truly electrifying. Standard cinematically, but greatly elevated because of the performances. Your attendance at this thread is deeply appreciated my very good friend.
And I got something very interesting in the mail today! Thanks so much.
I see you are still writing great theatre reviews. I know how dear you hold this play to your heart, so I would expect no less than serious scrutiny. I can’t see Keir Dullea in the Douglas role. He really isn’t an actor with a wide range anyway. Still, it is great to have the opportunity to see Marsha Mason. I’m honestly not familiar with Servitto’s work.