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March 9, 2007
Five days stuck in insanity
Moonlight and Magnolias takes inside look at classic film.
BAILA LAZARUS
Silly. Preposterous. Predictable and unpredictable. And totally
entertaining. If that sounds like how you'd like to describe an
evening out, then head down to the Playhouse Theatre for Ron Hutchinson's
Moonlight and Magnolias. But make sure you see Gone With
the Wind first.
It's not that you won't enjoy the play if you haven't seen the movie,
but there are many references that will get by you. After all, the
play Moonlight and Magnolias, titled after a line in the
opening of the book, takes place during the making of the movie.
It's 1938, and producer David O. Selznick (Jay Brazeau) is flailing
as he tries to salvage his work. He's stopped production, unhappy
with the script and direction, and hires alternate director Victor
Fleming (Stephen E. Miller) and screenwriter Ben Hecht (Richard
Newman). (Interestingly, Hecht did work on the script, but was uncredited
in the film.)
Selznick is in danger of losing his house, his car, his company
and his children's college tuition if he can't save the movie. The
only problem is, Fleming is already working on a movie (The Wizard
of Oz) and is irritated at being pulled off his shoot before
he's finished; and Hecht hasn't even read the book. On top of that,
the two don't particularly like each other. "I'm here to butcher
the book," Hecht says to Fleming. "It's up to you to butcher
the script."
Selznick manages to convince them, anyway, to join him in his desperate,
passionate risk, putting it all on the line for something he knows
has to be done. "Scarlett grabbed me by the nuts and never
let go," he says, clutching Margaret Mitchell's Pulitzer Prize-winning
novel to his breast.
Once they agree, he gets his secretary, Miss Poppenghul (Dawn Petten)
to lock them in Selznick's office with nothing but peanuts and bananas
for five days in order to write a new script. To aid Hecht in this
absurdly monumental task, Selznick and Fleming act out scenes from
the movie; and this is where the laughs move into high gear.
Watching Brazeau run around playing all the characters in a one-minute
summary of the book to Hecht and then, later, when he's outfitted
in a lampshade to play Scarlett fretting over Melanie (Miller) lying
on the floor in labor, is totally worth the ticket price alone.
Add to that three tremendous performances and a stunning set and
you can forgive the expected slapstick and groaner jokes:
"Scarlett finds out that Ashley is going to marry his cousin,"
Selznick explains to Hecht.
"Is that legal?" Hecht asks.
"Well, it is the South," Selznick follows. Badaboom.
High-energy antics give way to tragicomedy soon enough, however,
when the time the three spend together, without bathing or eating
properly, begins to gnaw at them. At one point, while expressing
a point passionately, Selznick actually goes into a state of apoplectic
shock, and the two prisoners have the opportunity to steal his key
and go home. They're halfway out the door when their conscience
kicks in and they take their places back in the office.
Pretty soon, the three are at each others' throats, and Hecht's
deeper resentment of Selznick starts to seep out. He complains that
Selznick "won't even give a dollar" to help the Jews get
out of Europe and that he is misguided into thinking that Hollywood
accepts him as an American first and a Jew second.
Hecht even calls some people around town and asks them if they think
Selznick is American or Jewish. They all respond, "Jewish."
"A handful of Jews gave the world the movies, but deep down,
you're afraid you'll be run out of town," Hecht tells Selznick,
adding that no matter how successful or famous or powerful Jews
get, "They won't let me in their country clubs."
As the days progress, the characters begin to resemble animals,
crawling around on the floor and hoarding food, but a strange phenomenon
occurs as they complete the writing: an appreciation for each other's
work grows out of the tight quarters. Each one of them acknowledges
how they need the other, even though there are times when they become
bitter creative rivals.
Ultimately, Selznick reminds them that their responsibility is not
to satisfy each other, but to cater to the audience.
"We are down on our knees, sucking the collective d**k of the
great unwashed," Selznick says of the ticket buyers.
And Hecht replies, "Well, that's democracy."
Moonlight and Magnolias plays at the Vancouver Playhouse
until March 17. Call 604-873-3311 or visit www.vancouverplayhouse.com
for tickets. Coarse language.
Baila Lazarus is a freelance writer, photographer and
illustrator living in Vancouver. Her work can be seen at www.orchiddesigns.net.
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