Metro Pulse/Backstage/The Philadelphia Story

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What:
The Philadelphia Story by Philip Barry

When:
Nov. 13-15, 8 p.m. and Nov. 16, 2 p.m.

Where:
Black Box Theatre

Cost:
$12 general admission, $10 students & seniors. Reservations recommended. Call 546-4280.

TSC takes on a timeless classic

by Paige M. Travis

"You look like a queen, a goddess," says Seth Lord to his daughter Tracy just moments before she embarks on her second marriage. "I feel like a human being," she responds happily.

Such is the moral conclusion of The Philadelphia Story, the Tennessee Stage Company's choice for their Timeless Works series. Although its dated approach to womanly virtue and gender roles places the play firmly in 1939, Philadelphia is timeless—and worthy—because of its dialogue. The clever writing by Philip Barry was made even punchier by screenwriter Donald Ogden Stewart, who won an Academy Award for adapting the play by his friend and fellow Yale grad into the 1940 film version starring Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart. TSC's challenge in translating this timeless work is to live up to the film and the voices, faces and personalities burned into viewers', and even the play's actors, minds.

Jenny Ballard is an obvious choice to play Tracy Lord. Trim, feisty, and blessed with good bone structure, Ballard is perfect for the role of the high society Philadelphia bride-to-be who men place on a pedestal despite her emotional chilliness. Her homage to Hepburn is in her ability to switch gears from ferocious lioness to coy kitten on a moment's notice. Ballard's take on the character's harder traits is more suited to the 21st century; she is businesslike, almost sharp. But when she breaks (as women in plays and movies like this frequently do) she breaks just like a woman—melting like butter into a spineless version of her previous, independent self. (Romantic comedies are rarely progressive enough to include a smart and sexy woman free from the shackles of patriarchal influence, but, hey, we forgive them.)

On the verge of her second marriage, this time to a coal mine manager named George Kittredge (Bob Mansfield), Tracy is exhilarated by her perceived ability to repair the past. Her first marriage to C.K. Dexter Haven (Tom Parkhill) didn't work out so well, probably because of his drinking. But, as we find out when Haven shows up before the wedding, his love for Tracy hasn't abated since their split.

The day before the wedding, already complicated by Haven's appearance, is further disrupted by the presence of Mike Connor (Craig Smith) and Liz Imbrie (Amy Hembree), a reporter and photographer from a tabloid magazine, sent to get the scoop on Tracy's nuptials. Mike is a cynical reporter who would rather write short stories; Liz is his smart-mouthed sidekick. They have a combined contempt and curiosity about the Lords and their monied way of life. Tracy and her family—mother Margaret (Ginny Thurston) and kid sister Dinah (Hannah Willson)—refused to be shamed by father Seth's (Art Stair) rumored philandering, so they put on their best faces—however strained—for the reporters.

Tracy is presented as the perfect woman: graceful, stylish, smart, beyond reproach. She is worshipped for these traits, but Tracy suspects there's something more to love and being loved. She believes that by marrying someone who entered her social class from below by hard work and sacrifice, she will earn her merit badge and start to feel deserving of her wealth and status. But Kittredge worships her like an unattainable trophy that he's somehow come to possess. Even Mike, previously critical of her privileged class, falls for her after she admires his short stories and they drink too much champagne at the rehearsal dinner.

This play is a comedy, of course, so it doesn't all have to make sense; it just needs to be amusing, which it is. At times, Craig Smith seems to be doing his best golly-gosh Jimmy Stewart impersonation, but even if he is, it works. His skepticism turned to infatuation is one of the play's more realistic transformations.

As the ex, Haven gets the best lines, and Parkhill delivers them like the pro he is. Parkhill would've nailed any of the male roles—Mike's semi-communist rantings, Uncle Willie's fondness for drink or even Seth Lord's patriarchal authority. Parkhill plays a kinder, gentler Haven than Cary Grant did. Where Grant was rakish, Parkhill is almost fatherly in his admiration of Tracy. But the approach suits her character's needs: she wants someone who will love her for herself, not place her on a pedestal as a cold, marble statue. And even her father criticizes her lack of human compassion and tries to blame her failings as a loving daughter for his cheating ways. That faulty logic aside, The Philadelphia Story comes up with a happy ending and some sort of closure. Tracy chooses the man whom she believes loves her for her, not because of her untouchable mystery.

The actors do a passable job of keeping up with the play's quick dialogue and pacing. Mostly their job is to swirl around Tracy, the first-born star of the show.

Transforming a well-known film into its original stage form is the biggest challenge TSC faced by choosing The Philadelphia Story. Screenwriter Stewart improved on Barry's work for the film version, but the play allows us to look at the work in its original state. The cast (who donated their efforts in this yearly fundraiser for TSC) meets the unenviable task of recreating some unforgettable roles with a level of aplomb that befits their talent and the company's tradition.