With such props as table and throne, swords, a rack of costumes and a full length mirror, scattered in disarray, the stage is aptly set for rehearsal of a revival of Richard III -- one that will never take place. Ed Dennehy as John Barrymore, a month before his 1942 death, lopes through the house in a raincoat, with raffishly tilted hat, cane in one hand, "medicinal" black bag in the other. Off-color limericks roll off his tongue, as do snatches of memories of his career and relationships with his illustrious theatrical family and four wives. What he can't remember are his lines, unless they're out of order, so he needs prompter Frank (Jay Strauss, flat-toned and stone-faced). Frank reminds Barrymore he's a has-been, while bringing out how great an actor he had been.
How very fine an actor Ed Dennehy is comes through as he wins some sympathy while fleshing out a monochromatic portrait. Not the kind of painting John Barrymore himself originally hoped to do; more like the cartoonist he was briefly. From crown prince in a line of royal actors, he descended to clown prince. "Acting isn't an art," he insists.
Ironically, Dennehy gets to disprove this when his Barrymore sneaks in soliloquies spoken not only by evil Richard but also by Hamlet. Mostly, however, the script simply flits between Barrymore getting drunker and less able to perform while he describes little encounters with people as diverse as writer Gene Sheldon, gossip Louella Parsons, his grandmother Drew, and a strict Frau attendant in a German sanitarium. Dennehy meets the challenge of making each one's accent individual but can't do much about the largely mundane descriptions of them.
A basic problem in the script is why Barrymore is talking to us, the audience, at all, or who -- if we're not the audience -- we're supposed to be, as Frank doesn't acknowledge our presence. Barrymore hints Frank is a death figure, but that's unsubstantiated. Like the prie dieu among the stage furnishings, which would not be needed in the play Barrymore is rehearsing, his actions and stories are for surface effect. "I've nowhere to go," he says, "but I can't stop running." Same as the play, though not Dennehy or his director.
