Kate’s World: Tea at Five at New Milford’s TheatreWorks
2008-01-31
There are several reasons why Tea at Five, a two act monologue about Katherine Hepburn, is such a resounding success: the skilled co-direction of Joe Russo and Jane Farnol, the beautifully crafted script by playwright Matthew Lombardo, and the spectacular performance by Noel Desiato as one of America’s most famous actresses.
Mr. Lombardo’s play premiered originally at Hartford Stage in Connecticut before moving to an off-Broadway venue. Mounting it at the New Milford playhouse was apt in the wake of the recent success of its production The Philadelphia Story, a romantic comedy that was a stage and film triumph for Katherine Hepburn. The playwright’s monologue is hardly spun out of whole cloth; much of it depends upon snippets of what we already know about the actress. Even the red sweater draped around Ms. Desiato’s shoulders was mentioned in A. Scott Berg’s devotional biography Kate Remembered, while Mr. Lombardo’s dialogue about Hepburn’s strategic use of high-heeled shoes—to intimidate costars by towering over them—was underscored in the 1971 memoir by Garson Kanin, Tracy and Hepburn.
There are not enough adjectives to describe Katherine Hepburn’s lasting appeal. A slew might be: feisty, indomitable, hilariously funny, devoted, wily, brilliant, individualistic, and—lest the star-struck chance to forget it, vulnerable in ways that were almost never advertised for self-serving purposes. Mr. Lombardo has highlighted all these facets skillfully, as if he were polishing a gem—and a jewel of a script it is.
Katherine Hepburn’s spirit holds an indelible charm for audiences. It carried the day through all the tribulations of a career that is by now legendary. What was so remarkable about the woman was the plucky way she chartered her course through life while assailed by box office failures (she mentions seven flops in a row, and Bringing Up Baby almost finished her film career); keen disappointments (David O. Selznick bypassed her, handing over the role of Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With the Wind to a foreigner, Vivian Leigh); poor reviews (Louella Parsons likened her to Boris Karloff in a jump-suit, while Dorothy Parker panned one of her stage performances as “representing all the emotions, from A to B”); being fired by the Schubert because “Your performance is excruciating;” working with impossible directors like Jed Harris (whom Arthur Miller in a snit once heaved into an orchestra pit); the tragic suicide of her brother Tom (suicide was a constant theme in the extended Hepburn family); a near fatal car crash (Kate’s leg is in a cast in the second act of the play); catastrophes (she sees her homestead floating down the Connecticut River in the midst of a hurricane); paternal admonitions about her becoming an actress (“It’s more despicable to be an actress than a prostitute, because at least the latter is continuingly employed”); her bitter-sweet and decades long romance with Spencer Tracy; and, to top it all, Parkinson’s Disease.
Spence, the love of her life, was a Catholic who refused to divorce his wife Louise while maintaining his long relationship with the actress. He also had a problem of alcoholism. Yet the relationship between Spence and Kate was a committed one and, in a moralistic era, curiously respected by their fans. A celebrity like Ingrid Bergman was virtually crucified for having an extra-marital affair with Roberto Rossellini.
Mr. Lombardo’s marvelous technique of using the actress’s quips to punctuate the monologue at precisely the right points is the delightful highlight of his script. Examples: On the set of Bill of Divorcement, the actress calls on John Barrymore, only to find him nude in his trailer, whereupon he attempts to grope her. She slaps his face, exclaiming: “If you ever do that again, I’ll stop acting altogether!” The drunken ham replies: “My dear, I never knew you started.” Irritated by Warren Beatty’s incessant overtures to her (accompanied by regularly delivered bouquets), Kate remonstrates with him: “I’d take you over my knee if you didn’t enjoy it so much!” About her much admired rival, Bette Davis, who was taking on a new role: “There isn’t a camera in Hollywood that would make her look 25 again!”
I doubt there is an area actress who could have done a better job with the role than Noel Desiato, a veteran of such stints as Medea, Love Letters, and Laramie Project. Her dramatic range couldn’t be more varied. She was also a student at the Stella Adler Conservatory. Ms. Adler was Marlon Brando’s acting teacher, and a guru who had a somewhat different spin on the Stanislavsky Method than did Lee Strasberg.
Kate’s growth as a film actress, despite the early discouragements, is apparent when we go from Bringing Up Baby (“Baby” is a leopard, although a jaguar was slipped in occasionally, deceptively representing the same feline) through Holiday (in which Lew Ayres plays the indispensable drunkard Barry Fitzgerald enacted in the former flick), to The Philadelphia Story, a polished work more than compensating for the farcical and contrived narrative of the first film. It was a true work of art, principally because of the talent involved (Cary Grant, James Stewart, and Kate were an unbeatable triumvirate), a sophisticated script, and George Cukor’s skillful direction. Which brings us to some low visibility features of celebrity status.
Acting celebrities represent tinctures of elements that are often hard to tease apart. There is the sheer talent or technical expertise (best exemplified in yesteryear by Spencer Tracy, Cary Grant, and James Stewart—all of them Kate’s costars). A rough measure of the capacity is the ability of an actor to impressively adapt to many roles, as if he or she were different persons, depending upon the characterization involved. And then there is a celebrity status that depends upon the attractiveness of a personality alone, something Stanislavsky called charm. Tom Cruise, Sylvester Stallone, and Arnold Schwartznegger have “charm;” Ed Harris, Vigo Mortensen, Daniel Day-Lewis, and Robert Duvall have technique also. These four possess serious acting talent, as do Meryl Streep, Cate Blanchett, and Toni Colette on the female side. The question is: on what side of things does Katherine Hepburn fall?
There are critics who feel that despite her fame, Kate tended to be a mannered actress, one who seemed the “same” in all the roles she portrayed. Others feel the opposite, that she had native talent and a highly developed technique eminently crafted for the roles she undertook. Whatever the verdict, there is no denying the importance of Kate in film history. She was the only Hollywood star to sustain a movie career over fifty years, and one of the very few to perform regularly on stage (Rosalind in Shakespeare’s As You Like It was one of her gigs).
Should the reader ever doubt her ability to have the magic rub off on others, loosen up. Jimmy Stewart won an Oscar for The Philadelphia Story; Henry Fonda won his only Oscar for On Golden Pond; and Humphrey Bogart won his only Oscar for The African Queen. All of them played opposite—guess who? The actress about whom much more can be said—providing we had an eternity in which to say it.