Christopher Plummer is the pinnacle of Canadian acting. Forget Hayden Christiansen as Anakin Skywalker or Kristen Kreuk as Lana Lang, Captain Georg Von Trapp is far more widely recognized on a global scale, no matter how many people love Star Wars and Smallville. In spite of the fact that this role was one he disliked, it was one that caused the entire world to know his name...and probably attributed to the number of people that came to see him in William Luce’s Barrymore at the Elgin and Winter Garden Theatre in downtown Toronto.
Barrymore is a two-man show, with one man, Frank, off-stage at all times. We only hear his voice. But the face of the whole performance is centered on the man playing the late John Barrymore (who was, indeed, grandfather to current actress, Drew Barrymore - it really is a "family business"...seriously, if my family's business had been in acting or show-biz, I think I might have had a less-sheltered upbringing...). Since I was so far from the stage, the features were not quite as distinct as I would have liked, but that didn't deter me from making out the austere, yet cheerful face of the charismatic Christopher Plummer.
Dressed in a black and white suit, he paced around the stage, regaling the audience and Frank (the unseen stage manager) with stories of his life while trying to rehearse for a production of Shakespeare’s Richard III. There’s quite a bit of vulgar language used, which is not something that people might expect when they realize that it’s Captain Von Trapp uttering them. People sometimes forget that such an iconic figure in our childhoods is actually an actor, and must become the roles given to him. In this case, John Barrymore, who was a raging alcoholic. Plummer kept pouring himself drinks and asking for more alcohol, something that reminded me of the parties we sometimes (read: A LOT of times) have on campus, complete with a profusion of vulgar words and the enjoyment at using them.
As Plummer traveled around the slightly “decaying” (seen through the broken piece of backdrop on stage right and a rack of faded costumes in centre stage) stage during the first act, he used dramatic lines from Richard III and other Shakespearean plays such as Hamlet and juxtaposed them with blunt comments and impeccable timing to create comedy that surprised and delighted the audience.
Stories about John Barrymore’s father, siblings and grandmother flow eloquently, taking us back to the late 19th century, when silent films were being made. John, or “Jackie”, was part of the generation of film actors that were featured in both silent films and the first motion pictures that included sound. His father was apparently an alcoholic himself, because Plummer quoted “Staggering is a sign of strength, Jackie. Only the weak have to be carried home.” Every time Plummer delivered those well-timed one-liners, I expected a cymbal crash straight afterwards – he proved himself to be a comedian of the ranks of Colin Mochrie, Stephen Fry and Chris Rock.
Indeed, he even discussed similar topics of those comedians – childhood and life with his family, marriage (or in his case, his four marriages that all ended in divorce) and his work as an actor. When discussing his marriages, Barrymore forgot the names of one of his wives and got their circumstances confused regarding how and why he met, married and divorced them. He also states that because of them, there will not be a 5th Mrs Barrymore – “I’d rather set fire to myself,” Barrymore quipped wryly to our amusement. Then, after expounding on his divorces, he stated, “I don’t have to tell you that divorces cost more than marriages,” At this, we chuckled appreciatively…and burst into full belly-laughs and applause when he roared, “BUT GODDAMN, THEY’RE WORTH IT!”
We got a chance to hear Christopher Plummer’s lovely singing voice as he trilled through various songs that were popular in his lifetime. (Why yes, I did flash back to The Sound of Music!) As he leaps around the stage, singing and dancing and laughing, we see that Plummer’s aging frame belies the youthful energy he still has…at least, until Barrymore winds down and curls up in his chair, looking tired. After a few more exchanges with Frank, Plummer was talking about Barrymore’s life as a theatre performer. When Barrymore mentioned “The Dowager Story,” Frank objected to it with his then-familiar tone of long-suffering. I didn’t understand why, after hearing it -: A woman of noble birth asked Barrymore if he believed that Ophelia and Hamlet had had sexual relations. Barrymore answered, “No, I don’t. I believe that Hamlet had fellatio with Horatio.” I burst into laughter once again.
And this was just the first act! Between his sarcastic remarks about his lines and forgetting his lines, puns about how frank “Frank” is and testing Frank’s saint-like (in my opinion) patience, the only time we can really stop laughing and smiling is during the intermission. After Barrymore returned to talking about marriage and remarked, “Wagner had the decency to write his wedding march in the tempo of a dirge,” (something I’m in agreement with, being bitterly single on this Single’s Awareness Day, not that that’s really any change from normal) Frank finally snapped and announced that he was leaving. Barrymore was furious and screams out curses and insults after Frank, but then grew sad and fearful – Frank was the only one who would work with him and his tempestuous nature. Desperation was etched on Plummer’s face – even as far as I was from the stage, his expression and posture radiated that horrible feeling of emptiness and hopelessness.
Frank returned to a man recovering from a mental breakdown (as evidenced from his rage, and his quoting of several Shakespearean passages) trying to control his emotions. He did, and discarded his costume, talking about how he related to Richard III and Hamlet as old friends of his, since he was so used to playing them. But when he dropped the costume and began dressing in his street clothes again, he commented, “I’m free from you now.” It is evident that Barrymore had been so caught up in the hubris of his characters when he had become them, that it influenced his own life as John Barrymore. When Barrymore insisted (against Frank's protests) that they shut the lights and go home, Frank asked, “Sir? Do you want some apples?” “Oh, no apples for me, thank you, Frank.” I was confused for a split second, since the motif of apples is common enough in Snow White and the Bible, but not in Shakespeare, so what did it have to do with Barrymore? This became evident when Barrymore ended on his best one-liner yet, “If Eve had offered Adam a daiquiri instead of an apple, we’d still be in paradise!”
As you might imagine, Plummer got a standing ovation. Not because of who he was, but because for those 90 minutes, John Barrymore was back from the dead. John Barrymore had made us forget about Christopher Plummer and regaled us about the true nature of his life, and of his “wonderful power” that Barrymore’s grandmother claimed he had so that he would not be afraid of the dark as a child. In adulthood, this wonderful power supposedly saved Barrymore from the darkness of stagnation, as his massive ego seemed to tell him, but by the end of the play, we see that this is not the case. He did have a wonderful power that entertained people on a global scale, but it did not save himself from the vice of alcoholism and his own unfortunately over-sized ego.
Christopher Plummer promised, and delivered, a wonderful performance to the audience. Whether Plummer plays the impassioned storyteller or the vibrant King Richard or even the staggering drunk, all of which encapsulate the late John Barrymore, it was easy for me to be drawn into the performance and believe that I really was in the presence of such a legend. As it turns out, we all were – no less legendary and sharing more similarities with John Barrymore than he’d probably admit.
That's all. Thanks for listening.
