MICHAEL MOORE WITH A TWIST
IDIOT’S DELIGHT
Directed by Sally Wood; written by Robert E. Sherwood
With: Mark S. Cartier, Tommy Schoffler, Dennis Price, Tanya Wineland, Dustin
Tucker, Bill Van Horn, Andrew Towler, Daniel Noel, Janis Stevens
In repertory at The Theater At Monmouth in Monmouth, Maine
From July 23 to August 21, 2004
Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves
In the documentary Fahrenheit 9/11, Michael Moore, in his unsubtle
but powerful way, chronicles the events leading to 9/11 and the war in Iraq,
and he suggests that both events were plots to keep power and money in the
hands of the privileged few. It’s a paranoid but plausible worldview, and I
can’t help but wonder if Michael Moore took his cue from Robert E. Sherwood
and his play Idiot’s Delight, currently in production at The Theater
at Monmouth in Monmouth, Maine. According to the Theater’s program, Robert
Sherwood wrote, “[People] fight and die, to be sure but that is because they
have been deluded by their exploiters, who are members of the indecent
minority.” However, in Idiot’s Delight, Sherwood proceeded to do
something that even the inimitable Michael Moore has not yet done; that is,
predict an actual event—World War II—brought on by the “indecent minority.”
Idiot’s Delight was written in 1936, three years before Hitler
invaded Poland, and the play is about a group of people caught in a hotel in
Italy on the eve of World War II. While Sherwood did not correctly guess
every detail of that war—it did not start with Italy bombing Paris— he did
an amazingly good job of predicting the destruction and scope of what was to
come as well as the passions and motivations. If only world leaders at the
time had been as prescient as Sherwood!
Set at the Hotel Monte Gabriele in the Italian Alps, Idiot’s Delight
opens with the staff in the doldrums. The threat of war has driven away all
the tourists, and, to make matters worse, the hotel overlooks an airfield
from which warplanes take off and land. However, it is not long before
customers suddenly converge on the hotel. Because of the pending war, their
train to Switzerland has been detained, and they all must wait until the
Italian authorities permit the train to leave. The guests include Dr. Waldersee (Dennis Price), a German scientist looking for a cure for cancer;
English newlyweds Mrs. and Mr. Cherry (respectively Tanya Wineland and
Dustin Tucker); a mysterious Russian countess (Janis Stevens) and her
“escort” Achille Weber, an arms merchant; Quillery (Andrew Towler), a French
communist; and finally the American Harry Van (Bill Van Horn) with his
troupe of dancing blondes.
Not every country is accounted for, but there is enough of a mix between the
staff and the guests so that there is a little melting pot of conflicts and
seething emotions as the hotel becomes a mini-Casablanca. Dr. Waldersee is
torn between loyalty to his country and dedication to his life’s work. He
wants to be the so-called neutral scientist, but he can’t for one moment
forget that he is German. Dennis Price manages to show this conflict in a
touching, believable way and even makes us feel a little sorry for the
scientist who is caught on the wrong side of history. Mrs. and Mr. Cherry
just want to enjoy their honeymoon and each other. In the beginning, they
are perhaps a little too satisfied with themselves, but as events unfold to
make them more aware of the outside world, we can’t help but wish they would
have had more time to be self-absorbed. Tanya Wineland and Dustin Tucker
play the couple with brisk efficiency and a touching vulnerability.
As the communist Quillery, Andrew Towler is all bug-eyed earnestness, an
idealist who cannot understand the insanity that has gripped Europe. He is
for peace and human rights and, to my way of thinking, is the moral center of
the story. It seems to me that if Sherwood had written this play ten or
fifteen years later, its fate would have been much different. Rather than
gaining the playwright a Pulitzer (1936), it in all likelihood would have
gotten him blacklisted. A communist as one the heroes? Unthinkable!
Janis Stevens glows as the glamorous countess, who has lived a life full of
lies and compromises yet is too smart to deceive herself. Decadent, phony,
but in a strange kind of way honest, she is drawn to Mrs. and Mr. Cherry and
the real love they feel for each other. This empathy as well as her
association with the other guests forces her to reevaluate her life and
make a brave if rather foolhardy choice.
With a voice that seems as though it could project all the way to Augusta,
Bill Van Horn is exactly right for the blunt, wisecracking Harry Van. He is
an optimist ready to take advantage of all the “suckers” in the world, a
huckster, but a good-hearted one who comes through in the end. Once upon a
time, his type was common in theater and movies. The huckster/hero is less
fashionable nowadays, but he can still be found from time to time. Hans Solo
in Star Wars is a direct descendant of Harry Van, and their names
even have a similar ring.
Best of all, perhaps, is Daniel Noel who plays Achille Weber, the nefarious
and dangerous arms merchant. At times affable, at other times menacing,
Noel’s Weber is truly scary, a man who seems all too capable of stirring up
conflict for profit. Unrepentant to the end, Weber is not troubled by doubts
or inner turmoil. Weber lives for money—the rest is unimportant—and Noel’s
chilling performance makes this terrible man convincing as well as
compelling.
When war inevitably breaks out, it brings the characters’ interactions to a
head. I won’t reveal the ending except to say that it is completely
over-the-top, and I wish that Sherwood had used just a little more
restraint. This sort of ending was not unusual in American drama during that
period, and I suspect it didn’t seem odd at the time. Fortunately, the rest
of the play is so strong and well performed that the melodramatic finale
doesn’t sink it. After the play, there was a discussion group, and the
director Sally Wood spoke of how she had grappled with the ending but went
with what Sherwood had written. I think she made the right choice. It’s
usually best to leave the conclusion to the playwright, no matter how dated
it might feel. To do so not only honors the playwright but also gives
viewers a sense of the history of the times, of what has changed and what,
alas, has remained the same.
