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Shocked that the script reader for the
Theatre Guild had rejected Behrman’s
The
Second Man, agent Harold Freedman
appealed directly to producer Lawrence Langner. Fortunately
Langner agreed with Freedman’s evaluation, and in the spring
of 1927, production plans for
The
Second Man went forward. "Those
few hours [of the performance] in the Guild Theatre on April
11 changed all my circumstances for the rest of my life,"
Behrman wrote of the premiere of
The
Second Man. This comedy of manners
had been transformed from a short story Behrman had sold to
The
Smart Set in 1919. It presents
Clark Storey in the classic mold as worldly, intelligent,
and largely undeceiving, following the ideal of
self-knowledge. Regarded by most as elegant, witty, and
sophisticated, the play had its detractors who found it
shallow, flippant, and cynical. Clark, however, would ask in
his own defense: "Why is a story about unhappy, dirty people
better than one about gay and comfortable ones?" An
acknowledged dilettante novelist, Clark is inclined toward a
luxury denied him by inheritance, genius, or education, but
not necessarily by circumstance. Although physically
attracted to young Monica Grey, Clark exploits his
association with the ultra-wealthy Mrs. Kendall Frayne.
Disdaining romantic love, he recognizes that his comfortable
survival depends upon the Mrs. Fraynes-of-the-moment. From
this beginning, it is apparent that Behrman follows George
Meredith in an unconcern for a formalized, conventional
plot, although
The
Second Man is more tightly
structured than most of his plays. Behrman’s interest and
real concern lay always with the interior movement of his
leading characters, their awareness and their growing
self-knowledge. Such concerns are discernible in Behrman’s
typically strong second-act curtains. His most often-quoted
second-act curtain line, for example, is Lady Lael Wyngate’s
in
Rain From Heaven (1934): "Hobart,
please remember – Herr Willens is not only my lover; he is
also my guest." Behrman’s clever equation brings down the
curtain with the laughter of surprise, not with the more
typical, cliff-hanging suspense. In
The
Second Man, no quip, no epigram
brings down the second-act curtain; rather an almost
painful, sadomasochistic image prevails as Clark pounds the
keyboard of the piano and Monica "huddles in the chair to
escape the flagellation of sound." To the very end of his
theatrical career Behrman seems never to lack the facility
of a technician; he could as easily have brought down
The
Second Man’s second-act curtain
with a laugh had the latest encounter between Clark and
Monica called for it at that moment. It did not. Therein
lies one of the major differences and riches between
Berhman’s texts and those of other commercially successful
writers of comedy. Behrman does not stoop to the wise-crack,
the put-down, the one-liner joke. Conversely, this may also
offer some explanation why Behrman never achieved
overwhelming popular success accorded many of his peers.
Behrman’s comedy, for all its acknowledged out-and-out
laughter, largely induces a continuing smile of the mind. In
a comparison to Behrman’s peer, Philip Barry,
critic-director-historian Harold Clurman notes: "One doesn’t
have to make a choice, but I think Behrman is superior to
Barry. With all deference to Barry, his plays are more
agreeable to the audience, more superficial. With Behrman
there is always a note – even as early as
The
Second Man – a note of
psychological ambiguity and complexity which Barry never
had. You have to be somewhat astute for a Behrman play.
The
Philadelphia Story,
Holiday,
Paris Bound – anyone can
understand them – they’re the real bedlevel of the
prosperous middle-class. It was easier for Barry to plot
better because his material was so simple. But the minute
you get into real complexity of character and thought, you
have difficulty with plotting. The instance that taught me
very sharply was with Odets.
Golden Boy is better plotted, but
Paradise Lost is richer." When
The
Second Man script reached Lawrence
Langner of the Theatre Guild, it had achieved a readiness
that made the typical out-of-town tryout unnecessary.
Although Alfred Lunt and his wife, Lynn Fontanne, had
scheduled a vacation, the character of Clark Storey so
fascinated and challenged Lunt that he persuaded his wife to
take on the less satisfying role of Kendall Frayne for a
limited engagement. The couple played in about one-third of
The
Second Man’s 178 Broadway
performances, indicating that the play, even without the
famed acting team and in the intense heat of a New York
summer, could sustain attraction by itself. It has never
been out of the Samuel French catalogue and continues to
delight audiences attending summer-stock and repertory
theatres. Theatregoers of the London production, starring
Noel Coward, were convinced that Coward himself had written
the piece under the nom de plume of S.N. Behrman. Nearly a
quarter of a century later, Behrman returned the compliment
in a letter to Alfred Lunt: "I think that
Blithe Spirit is one of the most
dazzling comedies in the English language: marvelously
constructed and witty all along the way. It is really a
prodigious tour de force of wit. Willie Maugham once said to
me that he envied Noel for his apartment on the Place
Vendome. I envy him for having written
Blithe Spirit." |
