NY Times
October 25, 2010
Theater Review | 'Driving Miss Daisy'
Stooped and a Bit Slow, but Still Standing Tall
By BEN BRANTLEY
Contrary to popular opinion, giants still walk that tired, old corner of the earth called Broadway. Times being what they are, these giants are often penned into cramped quarters, which prevent them from stretching to their full height. But giants of the theater belong to a magnificent species that is fast disappearing. And when one shows up in your neighborhood, you polish your eyeglasses and go for a look.
James Earl Jones and Vanessa Redgrave are, by anyone’s reckoning, two of the last of these titans stars of uncommon stature (in all senses) who, in combined years of experience, have known and commanded the stage for more than a century. Their fiery, shadow-casting presences have illuminated some of the most challenging roles in world theater. And I would see them in absolutely anything. Even “Driving Miss Daisy,” which opened on Monday night at the Golden Theater.
Ms. Redgrave plays the title character, and Mr. Jones her chauffeur, in David Esbjornson’s revival of Alfred Uhry’s 1987 play. If the production’s stars feel squeezed or confined by what is a very slender work, they never let on. They give responsible, intelligent performances that are infused with two old pros’ joy in the mastery of their craft. And they pull off the deft trick of registering as big as we want them to be without making the play in which they appear seem even smaller than it is.
First staged at Playwrights Horizons, “Driving Miss Daisy” ran for nearly 1,200 performances Off Broadway, and the sources of its appeal remain clear. In tracing the evolving relationship between an elderly Southern Jewish matron and her African-American driver in Atlanta during the mid-20th century, Mr. Uhry allows audiences to feel both patronizing toward, and admiring of, its geriatric odd couple. This combination of sentiments tends to make people glow with a pleasant righteousness, especially when the implicit subject is crossing a racial divide. And it was perhaps inevitable that “Daisy” should win the 1988 Pulitzer Prize for drama and become a 1989 movie that nabbed the Oscar for best picture.
Yet while Bruce Beresford’s film (which starred Jessica Tandy and Morgan Freeman) created an illusion of historic sweep and substance, the play is little more than a series of sketches with the gentle, laugh-a-little-cry-a-little rhythms of a sentimental sitcom. Its vignettes portray a classic clash of wills between an immovable object and an irresistible force that eventually melts into something like love.
Daisy Werthan (Ms. Redgrave) is she who will not be moved, a septuagenarian widow who retains the unbending mien and dictatorial manner of the grade-school teacher she was. Hoke Coleburn (Mr. Jones) is the equally feisty driver hired by Miss Daisy’s son, Boolie ( Boyd Gaines) who by degrees overcomes his new employer’s reluctance to be driven. Miss Daisy is proud, you see, and she doesn’t want anyone thinking she’s showing off. But Hoke is proud too. Come to think of it, they have quite a bit in common, including their belonging to minorities by virtue of his race and her religion.
Mr. Uhry, a two-time Tony winner ( “The Last Night of Ballyhoo,” the musical “Parade”), unfolds his story, which covers some 20 years, with skilled restraint and few surprises. Like David Mamet’s “Life in the Theater,” which is playing just down the street, “Miss Daisy” is a chamber work that functions best in a small space. Burden it with too much scenery and overcharged performances, and its wispy charm can cloy like the fumes that rise from a chicken-filled deep-fryer.
As with “A Life in the Theater,” an attempt has been made here to make “Daisy” loom larger. Scenes are connected by projections (by Wendall K. Harrington) that include footage of civil rights marchers and signs reading “This Is KKK Country” and “Jesus Saves.” The set designer, John Lee Beatty, has done his best to add Broadway-style scenery (a floating staircase and kitchen range) that doesn’t get in the way of what is essentially a “let’s pretend” presentation. (Miss Daisy and Hoke still sit in chairs for the driving scenes, although those chairs now move.)
You still sometimes have the sense that the play is hovering in space, looking for an elusive foothold. Mr. Esbjornson’s staging could certainly be more focused, and make better area-defining use of Peter Kaczorowski’s lighting. And Mr. Gaines, a very fine actor, here uses broader comic flourishes than are his wont, as if they might help fill that big, empty stage.
Ms. Redgrave and Mr. Jones, on the other hand, calmly but forcefully grab our attention and hold it, without appearing even to try. For starters, watch how they walk. Ms. Redgrave crosses the stage with a ruler-straight back and a slicing, air-snipping gait that brings to mind newly sharpened scissors. Her gaze is always willfully blinkered, straight-ahead.
Mr. Jones is first seen shuffling, slightly hunched, but then he unfolds himself into a prouder, taller stance. The hunch is for the white folks who give Hoke a paycheck, but it is only an affectation. (It’s like the booming voice he uses in his first interview with Boolie, like a man helpfully trying to communicate with someone who doesn’t speak his language.) There is anger in Hoke, but he long ago learned the danger of showing it, and Mr. Jones lets that undercurrent ripple quietly through his performance.
This is matched by the substratum of fear we detect in Ms. Redgrave’s fiercely rigid Miss Daisy. Ms. Redgrave doesn’t have the instinctive command of Southern upper-middle-class tics and mannerisms that Ms. Tandy did in the film. But, like Mr. Jones, she exudes the sense of someone who has taught herself a specific form of self-control to survive. Lapses in this regard alarm her, and there is one beautiful moment when Miss Daisy, remembering a childhood visit to the Gulf of Mexico, suddenly looks as if she had fallen through time.
She corrects herself quickly. But time, of course, is ultimately on no one’s side. And when Miss Daisy’s step starts to slow, and Hoke becomes hunched for real, we feel a chill of mortal attrition. I mean as it affects Miss Daisy and Hoke. Ms. Redgrave and Mr. Jones have yet to shrink one bit.
DRIVING MISS DAISY
By Alfred Uhry; directed by David Esbjornson; sets by John Lee Beatty; costumes by Jane Greenwood; lighting by Peter Kaczorowski; projections by Wendall K. Harrington; music by Mark Bennett; sound by Christopher Cronin; technical supervisor, Larry Morley. Presented by Jed Bernstein, Adam Zotovich, Elizabeth Ireland McCann, Roger Berlind, Beth Kloiber, Albert Nocciolino, Jon B. Platt, Stylesfour Productions, Ruth Hendel/Shawn Emamjomeh, Larry Hirschhorn/Spring Sirkin, Carl Moellenberg/Wendy Federman and Daryl Roth/Jane Bergère, in association with Michael Filerman. At the Golden Theater, 252 West 45th Street, Manhattan; (212) 239-6200; telecharge.com. Through Jan. 29. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes.
WITH: James Earl Jones (Hoke Coleburn), Vanessa Redgrave (Daisy Werthan) and Boyd Gaines (Boolie Werthan).
Vanessa Redgrave in Driving Miss Daisy
NY Post
Vanessa driven to odd demand
By MICHAEL RIEDEL
Last Updated: 2:40 AM, August 25, 2010
Posted: 1:04 AM, August 25, 2010
Vanessa Redgrave is arguably the greatest living stage actress of her generation.
I say "arguably" only be cause the competition is pretty fierce -- Eileen Atkins, Helen Mirren, Maggie Smith, Judi Dench.
What's inarguable is that "V," as friends call her, is the most eccentric of the lot. Anybody who's worked with her has a tale to tell.
There was, for instance, the time the snow machine broke down at the National Theatre's production of Ibsen's "John Gabriel Borkman" -- now there's a play we just don't see enough of -- and the cast was told there would be no snowstorm in the second act.
Redgrave solved the problem right away. "Why don't you give me some sheets of white paper," she told the stage manager, "and when I make my entrance, I'll tear them up into little pieces and throw them around the stage, and we'll have snow!"
(True story, told to me by Atkins, who was in the show.)
Redgrave's in rehearsal now with James Earl Jones for the Broadway revival of "Driving Miss Daisy," opening Oct. 25, and already more tales are being told.
Here's a fun one:
A few weeks ago, David Esbjornson, the director, sent Redgrave a five-page letter explaining, in great detail, what the set would look like.
Redgrave responded: "But where, David, is the kitchen?"
As the play's set predominantly in a car and a driveway, there is no kitchen. The stage directions, in fact, say the sets should be "minimal."
But Redgrave, who burrows deep into her character, worked it out that Daisy Werthan is a good cook.
Esbjornson, I'm told, wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he sent Redgrave's kitchen query off to one of the producers.
The producer's a clever fellow and he came up with a good answer: "You know, Vanessa," he said, "Daisy employs a maid, Idella, who probably does most of the cooking."
Redgrave shot back: "Daisy only employs Idella three days a week!"
The person who told me this story chuckled and said: "That's Vanessa for you. She's worked it all out in her head. She has an answer for everything."
As it turns out, Redgrave did her homework. I checked the script and, sure enough, Daisy notes that "Idella comes in three times a week" and "throws my good silver into the garbage."
I haven't heard yet if they're going to put that kitchen into "Driving Miss Daisy." But they'd better make sure their great leading lady is happy.
If not, she might make another demand. Like having a real car onstage. A '48 Hudson Commodore would do the trick, or perhaps a '57 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham.
I hear Redgrave's been hanging out at Cooper Classic Cars on Perry Street, kicking some vintage tires.
Footnote: Redgrave has coined a phrase that I'm stealing.
Asked to participate in some publicity stunt to gin up ticket sales, she shrieked and said: "This sounds to me like Broadway buffoonery! I am not interested in Broadway buffoonery!"
Vanessa driven to odd demand
By MICHAEL RIEDEL
Last Updated: 2:40 AM, August 25, 2010
Posted: 1:04 AM, August 25, 2010
Vanessa Redgrave is arguably the greatest living stage actress of her generation.
I say "arguably" only be cause the competition is pretty fierce -- Eileen Atkins, Helen Mirren, Maggie Smith, Judi Dench.
What's inarguable is that "V," as friends call her, is the most eccentric of the lot. Anybody who's worked with her has a tale to tell.
There was, for instance, the time the snow machine broke down at the National Theatre's production of Ibsen's "John Gabriel Borkman" -- now there's a play we just don't see enough of -- and the cast was told there would be no snowstorm in the second act.
Redgrave solved the problem right away. "Why don't you give me some sheets of white paper," she told the stage manager, "and when I make my entrance, I'll tear them up into little pieces and throw them around the stage, and we'll have snow!"
(True story, told to me by Atkins, who was in the show.)
Redgrave's in rehearsal now with James Earl Jones for the Broadway revival of "Driving Miss Daisy," opening Oct. 25, and already more tales are being told.
Here's a fun one:
A few weeks ago, David Esbjornson, the director, sent Redgrave a five-page letter explaining, in great detail, what the set would look like.
Redgrave responded: "But where, David, is the kitchen?"
As the play's set predominantly in a car and a driveway, there is no kitchen. The stage directions, in fact, say the sets should be "minimal."
But Redgrave, who burrows deep into her character, worked it out that Daisy Werthan is a good cook.
Esbjornson, I'm told, wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he sent Redgrave's kitchen query off to one of the producers.
The producer's a clever fellow and he came up with a good answer: "You know, Vanessa," he said, "Daisy employs a maid, Idella, who probably does most of the cooking."
Redgrave shot back: "Daisy only employs Idella three days a week!"
The person who told me this story chuckled and said: "That's Vanessa for you. She's worked it all out in her head. She has an answer for everything."
As it turns out, Redgrave did her homework. I checked the script and, sure enough, Daisy notes that "Idella comes in three times a week" and "throws my good silver into the garbage."
I haven't heard yet if they're going to put that kitchen into "Driving Miss Daisy." But they'd better make sure their great leading lady is happy.
If not, she might make another demand. Like having a real car onstage. A '48 Hudson Commodore would do the trick, or perhaps a '57 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham.
I hear Redgrave's been hanging out at Cooper Classic Cars on Perry Street, kicking some vintage tires.
Footnote: Redgrave has coined a phrase that I'm stealing.
Asked to participate in some publicity stunt to gin up ticket sales, she shrieked and said: "This sounds to me like Broadway buffoonery! I am not interested in Broadway buffoonery!"