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Review by David Munro |
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JOHN Drew Barrymore was the fallen angel of Broadway. Born into a theatrical
dynasty, he surpassed his brother, Lionel, and his sister, Ethel, as both
an actor and a personality.
Yet his talent and charisma could not save him from plunging out of the theatrical
heaven of Broadway and Hollywood into a hell dominated by his demon - drink.
Today, he is best remembered - if at all - by the fact that he is the grandfather
of another tormented, yet talented actor - Drew Barrymore.
That is, until Tom Conti decided to portray him in the twilight of his life
in this unflinching, but heart-warming, vignette. In an evening of a couple
or so hours, he brings to life a tormented genius, ruined by his desire for
women and alcohol, yet still painfully aware of the talent he had squandered
on them. But is he John Barrymore?
John Barrymore's 'Hamlet', seen in London in February 1925 at the Theatre
Royal Haymarket, was reckoned by many as the greatest portrayal of the role
of the century, surpassing Gielgud and all the other great actors who portrayed
it subsequently. Who can say? All one has left is gramophone records which,
while capturing the voice and delivery, can give no real indication of the
effect he had when on stage.
Known as the 'great Profile' - a tribute to his physical beauty, which he
shamelessly exploited, both on stage and off, as the 'great lover' - he also
excelled in stronger and more dramatic roles and even took parts where his
handsome features could be distorted into fearsome ugliness, as in 'Richard
III', which is what this play is concerned with - an attempt by Barrymore
to return to the stage in that role even when he and everyone else, here personified
by the stage manager, knows it is now beyond his power.
Tom Conti is, in his own right, a great actor and nothing he attempts can
be a failure. He portrays to a 'T' the shoddy and dissolute actor reliving
his past triumphs and unable to really accept his failure or the reason for
it. As a performance it is riveting but I question whether it bears any relationship
to John Barrymore.
Apart from the physical dissimilarities, one did not get the impression that
his actor had ever been an eagle who soared over the profession, as did Barrymore,
but merely a very talented crow. All through the piece I kept getting a nagging
feeling of deja vu - perhaps to 'The Dresser' and to Wolfit, not Olivier.
Cavilling aside, though, this is a performance not to be ignored. Barrymore
it may not be but as a portrayal of an actor at the end of his tether and
career, living in a welter of drink and desperation, it is magnificent, as
one would expect from Tom Conti.
You can believe that, at one time, he had bestrode the stage as a colossus,
even if the stage was a provincial one, and feel pity for the state in which
he now finds himself, so who cares if the author has decided to hang his premise
on a not very secure hook.
The play's the thing and Conti is the Actor to play it, so be grateful and
go to Richmond for a star performance of One Helluva Life, even
if its lustre is diminished by its setting.
One Helluva Life, Written by William Luce, directed by Bryan Forbes and
Lighting by Leonard Tucker. WITH: Tom Conti, Rupert Farley. Richmond Theatre,
The Green, Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1QJ. Box Office: 020 8940 0088. From Monday,
December 2 until Saturday, December 7, 2002.
