The late Nikos Psacharopoulos, artistic director of the Williamstown Theatre Festival through its burgeoning years, liked nothing better than to direct productions that had prides of actors, coveys of actresses, herds of interns and gaggles of townspeople. Next to that came the Russian playwrights, notably Chekhov, where the prop department could bring out their tremendous inventory of white birches.
When I served as entertainment editor of this paper (they also serve who only stand and wait), each summer I would have as an assistant, a college student, with writing aspirations. The one named David had never seen a Chekhov play so I sent him up to Williamstown where Blythe Danner and Frank Langella were playing their accustomed star-crossed lovers.
The next morning he didn't initiate a discussion so I asked him how he liked the play.
"It lasted forever," he blurted out. "Even the servants had three names." This remark flashed back to me last week when Frank Langella won his second Tony as best supporting actor for his role in the newly adapted version of Ivan Turgenev's "Fortune's Fool." The critics, except for the New York Post's Clive Barnes who loved everything from soup to nuts, were lukewarm about the quality of the play itself and respectful of director Arthur Penn's return to Broadway after 25 years, but the whole pack raved about the acting of Langella and Alan Bates.
Langella plays Flegont Alexandrovitch Tropatchov (count the number of names), described by Barnes as "a wealthy landowner and foppish snob. Tropatchov is an overbearing, semicultivated lout with a clever and infinite gift for making trouble." The New York Times' Ben Brantley had this to say about Langella's performance: "A man of wry politesse and rococo mannerisms, Tropatchov is a part Mr. Langella could play with his eyes closed. Fortunately he keeps his eyes open, revealing in them a glinting, manipulative malevolence that comes from being clever and bored in a stagnant society. While Mr. Langella is nearly always funny, he is ultimately as cuddly as a cobra. His Tropatchov may be a cartoon, but it is of the sort drawn by Goya and Daumier." And this is why Frank Langella has another Tony for his mantel.
It was fascinating over my career to watch Langella and Danner spread their wings to become two of the best actors working in this country. Neither achieved the super stardom they so rightfully deserved but that is as much a matter of luck as talent. Langella made something over 40 movies since the first one, "The Twelve Chairs," in 1970, but he had no scripts that matched his capabilities.
Blythe Danner has also appeared in scores of films but in like manner she has never appeared in one that brought out her luminescent beauty and the voice that can raise shivers in people who smoke too much. In contrast, her daughter Gwyneth caught that moment in the sun and has been throwing off reflections ever since.
The Tony Awards this year were almost a Williamstown reunion with Danner presenting the Best Regional Theater trophy to Williamstown producer Michael Ritchie, who has kept the tradition alive since 1996, and Langella receiving his award with a most gracious speech that reflected his love of theater. Both Langella and Danner are still stalwarts of the theater and she is also to appear next season as a regular on a new television series.
And as a footnote to Langella's Tony is the fact that George Morfogen, a linchpin at the WTF for so many years and a member of the trio that kept it alive during its uncertain years after the death of Psacharopoulos, is a member of the cast of "Fortune's Fool," playing a poor man who has only one name. I vividly remember his evil Moriarty in the WTF production of "Sherlock Holmes" in 1981 with Langella in the title role. The other Langella production that was brilliant in so many ways was "Cyrano de Bergerac" in 1980. Stephen Collins was also outstanding in that production because he made the character of Christian, whose brain was not quite sword length, into a real human being.
I haven't encountered Danner or Langella in many years, but that has a positive side to it. Langella is a big man, something like 6 feet, four inches, and every time we would encounter he would put a huge bear hug on me and lift me off my feet, my legs writhing in the air. Quite a few pounds have been added but I would just as soon not put him to the test.
Blythe kissed me on the cheek the last time we met and that would be okay again.
