A DELIGHTFUL, WITTY PLAY
MY THREE
ANGELS
Directed by Janis Stevens; written by Sam and Bella Spewack; based on the
French play La cuisine des anges by Albert Husson
With: Frank Omar, Maureen Tannian Butler, Jessica Pohly, Marion Barnes, Will
Harrell, Mark S. Cartier, Aaron B. Coleman, Ralph A. Barnes, Mike Anthony,
and Ezra Schatz
Performed in repertory at the Theater at Monmouth in Monmouth, Maine
From July 6 through August 24, 2007
Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves
“In a
civilized country, thinking is not a crime.”
—Jules, from My Three
Angels
I must
admit that even though I didn’t know much about My Three Angels, I
came to the play with a certain trepidation because of what I did know. That
is, it was a 1950s play, a comedy, and there is no getting around the fact
that, in general, I am not a fan of comedies from the 1940s and 1950s. They
tend to be either nasty, sexist concoctions sugarcoated with humor (e.g.,
The Philadelphia Story, surely an all-time low) or are so unbearably
goofy that they jump the line between clever and stupid, landing solidly in
stupid. What a relief, then, to discover that Sam and Bella Spewack’s My
Three Angels is the happy exception, a delightful, witty play that
revels in ensemble acting and, despite being light, has more than a few
pointed things to say about power, money, class, and innocence.
Set in
French Guiana on Christmas Eve in 1911, My Three Angels concerns the
fortunes of the Ducotel family, who, with mind-boggling inefficiency, run a
general store. Felix, the father, is too easygoing, allowing customers so
much credit that he barely has enough to get by, and the family can’t even
afford a chicken for their Christmas Eve meal. Emilie, the mother, while
very much aware of Felix’s lack of business sense, seems to have little of
her own and flaps ineffectively around the edges, occasionally pressing for
payment but failing just as miserably as her husband. Not surprisingly,
their daughter Marie Louise, on the verge of becoming a young woman, is as
impractical and as woolly-headed as her parents. The three of them are so
innocent that they border on being fools, which makes them ripe for being
victimized not only by unscrupulous customers but also by the hardhearted
Uncle Henri (more about him later). Yet, the family is also kindhearted,
generous, and loving. They care not only about each other but also about
those who might be considered “beneath” them. Yes, they are fools, but they
have a stubborn decency and honesty that is touching and even admirable.
Into
this little family’s world come three vipers, literally and figuratively.
The first two are human and arguably the most dangerous—the aforementioned
Uncle Henri and his nephew Paul, who have come to French Guiana to audit the
store. It seems that Uncle Henri, who actually turns out to be a cousin by
marriage, has financed the store and now wants to see how his investment is
doing. Felix might be a fool, but he is not so much of one that he doesn’t
recognize the inherent dangers of having his disorganized books examined.
With dread, both Felix and his wife await Henri’s arrival. Marie Louise, on
the other hand, is all atwitter because Paul, whom she loves, is coming with
his uncle. That is, until Marie Louise receives a letter from an old
schoolmate who states that she and Paul are engaged. Upon receiving this
news, Marie Louise follows a long tradition set forth by romantic heroines:
she swoons.
Fortunately for the Ducotel family, their tribulations have been overheard
by three extremely resourceful convicts who have been working on the roof of
the store. Two are murderers and one is an embezzler, but all three are
moved by the hardships of the little family. Allowed an amazing amount of
freedom, the convicts decide to do all that they can to help the Ducotels,
and let’s just say that their methods are not always on the up-and-up. What
ensues is a very funny battle between the skinflint Uncle Henri, his
toadying nephew Paul, and the three strong-minded, capable convicts. In
between are the clueless Ducotels, with their naïve belief that all will be well.
The
Theater at Monmouth’s production got off to a hesitant start as it
introduced the Ducotel family. Frank Omar, Maureen Tannian Butler, and
Jessica Pohly, who respectively play Felix, Emilie, and Marie Louise seemed
a bit unsure of themselves and the tone they should set for their
characters. However, once the three convicts—Alfred (Will Harrell), Joseph
(Mark S. Cartier), and Jules (Aaron B. Coleman)—clambered down from the
roof, all the performances snapped together to produce a sparkling evening
of ensemble acting.
Harrell, Cartier, and Coleman all delivered such wonderful comic timing
that it seemed to envelop the play with a bright energy. Will Harrell, as
the dark, moody Alfred, must be one of the handsomest convicts to ever set
foot on stage, and he put me in mind of a stunning cross between Cillian
Murphy (the eyes) and Clive Owen (the dark good looks). But, to paraphrase
Dr. Who, good looks are no substitute for good acting, and Harrell is
fortunately a good actor as well. Best of all, he never once upstaged the
two men who played the other convicts. It is Harrell’s Alfred who supplies
the third viper, a little snake carried in a container with a cord.
Aaron
B. Coleman, tall and slim, brought a nice touch of melancholy to a man who
has murdered his unfaithful wife yet yearns for a family and stability.
There is a beautifully understated scene between him and Madame Ducotel,
where attraction is expressed in a roundabout way. Perhaps most touching,
especially for today’s “liberated” audience, is that both characters know
their attraction will never be consummated.
Finally, there was Mark S. Cartier as the ironic, worldly-wise Joseph, a man
of great perception, who, in a flash, accurately sizes up those around him
and takes appropriate action. Cartier was absolutely pitch-perfect as the
unofficial leader of this band of angels, and his assured acting was a great
pleasure to watch.
The
villains were also very satisfying—Mike Anthony, as the unctuous, fawning
Paul, and Ralph A. Barnes as the terrible Uncle Henri, a man who could
out-Scrooge old Ebenezer. Barnes played Henri with such verve and will that
he really did seem to be a formidable opponent, often a step or two ahead of
“the angels.”
My
Three Angels, of course, posits the question: who is the bigger
criminal, the convicts or Uncle Henri? The businessman who doesn’t hesitate
to crush those in his way, or the convicts who have been tried and
convicted? It is to the writers’ credit that the three convicts are not
presented sentimentally as outsiders who have been unfairly accused. They
really are criminals who have done terrible things. Perhaps this is what
allows them to face Henri. Ruthlessness is matched by ruthlessness,
something the innocent Ducotels are incapable of. However this notion never
overwhelms the play’s light touch. Rather, it adds just the right amount of
bitter to a very engaging story. 
