Les feux du théâtre

Susan Strasburg was method acting guru Lee Strasburg's daughter.The film is peppered with acting luminaries such as Henry Fonda, Christopher Plummer and Herbert Marshall. I was however strongly reminded of a film on a rather similar theme "All about Eve" where again an ambitious young novice actress seeks to advance her career - at the expense of ageing actress played by Bette Davis. The screenplay by Joseph L. Mankiewicz has become immortal as in "Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night! ".

Not one line of Stage Struck is memorable. My attention was only briefly attracted by something surely unintended around 30 minutes in. Strasburg, Fonda and Herbert Marshal perform part of a Shakespeare play. Henry Fonda was OK but Susan Strasburg quacked and gave no indication of promise even. But Herbert Marshall spoke his lines wonderfully. Marshal, I suddenly realised had wasted and misdirected his talents, not least here.

Interesting Herbert Marshall trivia: During the First World War, Marshall served ... with fellow actors Basil Rathbone, Ronald Colman, Cedric Hardwicke and Claude Rains. (Wikipedia) Coincidentally perhaps the greatest and most distinctive vocal talents in cinema history.

Before this film, I had seen Susan Strasberg in two late 1960s AIP low-budget films 'The Trip' and 'Psych-Out' and enjoyed her performances in both so was quite interested in seeing her in the starring role here.

Alas, not only is she not up to the task, but she takes down the film with her. Her performance in the first 30 minutes or so is truly wretched; she's so strained and overwrought that it makes one cringe.

To be fair, from the time she does a reading from 'Romeo & Juliet' (which is quite charming) her performance settles down somewhat but the damage is done. After all, it's in the opening scenes where we're supposed to believe that she wins over Herbert Marshall as a close friend and enchants Plummer and Fonda but her performance kills any chance of that being convincing and the film never recovers.

However, the film is still fairly entertaining. While Fonda seems rather too genial to convince as a Broadway producer he's always entertaining to watch and helps hold the film together. And Joan Greenwood does a nice balancing act as she gives a melodramatic performance yet still lined with depth.

And, as other reviewers have mentioned, director Sidney Lumet puts in some nice touches with the detail he displays in the preparation that goes behind the scenes for opening night.

Also of interest is that it was released as an RKO picture and was probably close to the very last film released by that studio.

There is a strange artificiality to Susan Strasberg's performance which really throws this movie off kilter. Obviously she's playing a very theatrical young woman who lives for the stage, and in certain scenes (particularly the party scene where she is not only intoxicated from champagne but the dreamy proximity to so many Broadway celebrities) this technique is effective, but she never turns it off. In tender, heartfelt moments with Henry Fonda's seasoned producer and Christopher Plummer's blossoming playwright, both of whom are supposed to be madly in love with her, she's frightfully unresponsive. She's like a pretty little China Doll whose eyes can blink.

Nevertheless, there is much to like about this film. Fonda, Plummer and Herbert Marshall are superb as various incarnations of success who all become enchanted with Strasberg and her bewildering determination to be a star. They are all caught up in the complicated and decidedly unromantic machinery of the theatre world, and she represents the innocence they've either forgotten (Marshall), lost (Fonda), or are in jeopardy of losing (Plummer). (Although again, as Strasberg plays her, the innocence seems like a put-on, a florid, elaborate joke.) Part of the pleasure of the film is seeing Plummer in one of his very first, pre-"Sound of Music" roles. A darkly compelling leading man during this time with brooding traces of the new method acting style, he and the old school Fonda work well together - there's an interesting "passing the torch" dynamic there.

But the real reason to see this film is the stunning location photography of New York City. The director, Sidney Lumet, has always loved the city just as much as Woody Allen, and here it is practically the star. There is an exquisite scene in a snow blanketed park (Central?) that is as vivid as being there.

There is an added poignancy to this picture as Strasberg's part as an actress on the verge of "making it" was, I believe, intended to neatly dovetail with her own emerging stardom. A stardom that was, alas, to be short-lived.

Poor Susan Strasberg. She had not an easy life. She was so lovely. But her delivery in this movie - a remake of a Katharine Hepburn 30s vehicle called "Morning Glory" - is simply not good. It doesn't help that the script is a cliché of a cliché of a cliché, if there is such a thing. Henry Fonda does the best he can with the bad, hoary lines. The supporting cast of Joan Greenwood and Christopher Plummer are excellent and fascinating as usual, but they're stuck with bad lines. In Greenwood's case, bad lines complaining about bad lines!!! And even though Fonda is good, you can't believe Susan would really go for him.

The best thing about the movie is the scene backstage towards the end when the show that might make Strasberg a star, is just about to start. The movie's director shows the stagehands being called their cues by the stage manager, and you get the suspense of what it's like to be backstage just before the curtain goes up.

The stage manager by the way is played by Jack Weston, who played a stage manager the next year in Douglas Sirk's "Imitation of Life," which is also about "the theatuh," and in its complex phoniness and artificiality it rings truer than "Stage Struck." Beloved Herbert Marshall is also in this movie and you can see very easily that he is really walking on a wooden leg.

The street scenes of New York are interesting in this movie. Also interesting is the name of a Greenwich Village nightclub where Strasberg cringingly reads poetry and verse: The Village Voice!

Along with "All About Eve" this is one of the finest films dealing with the American theatre. I don't understand why it is a lost film and would urge anybody who enjoys great acting to hunt this film down any way they can. It is also about time it was released on video. Susan Strasberg was clearly one of Hollywood's casualties and it's tragic that the films she made after this were perhaps determined by the mediocre reaction at the time to this film.