Have you heard the expression “saved the best for last?” This is definitely the case with this production of The Front Page. Don’t leave at either of the two intermissions, because in Act Three, Nathan Lane struts his stuff. Everything we’ve come to love about this comic actor is there in spades: the perfect timing, the animated face, and the firecracker energy. As the bombastic newspaper publisher Walter Burns, he pumps up the volume in what often seems like an overworked old chestnut of a play. Lane is a living lesson in comedy. Who else could spout cursing and invective into a phone, and then be shocked to be answered in kind? We don’t need to hear the other end of the conversation; Lane’s stunned expression and wounded voice say it all. Lane’s partner in crime is the usually debonair John Slattery, here as Hildy Johnson, a boozy loudmouth who’s also a crack reporter. It’s definitely a stretch for this “Mad Men” favorite. He’s too lean and much too handsome to be the down-and-dirty Hildy, and hearing this distinctly Irish looking actor referred to as a “Swede” stretches the boundaries of credulity. But Slattery is up to the challenge and seems to be having a grand old time breaking out of his elegant persona. Having said that, one of the biggest laughs of the night comes when Hildy announces that he is going into advertising in New York. In fact, the best reason to see The Front Page is the opportunity to experience the interplay of a company of name actors working beautifully together, and having a blast. The now-svelte John Goodman turns Sheriff Hartman from what could have been buffoonery into a bumbler with a deep strain of malevolence. He’s hand in glove with the Mayor (Dann Florek) in single-mindedly doing whatever it takes to boost their own chances to be reelected. And yes, this is more than occasionally too timely to be comfortable. I didn’t recognize the lovely Sherie Rene Scott as down at the heels Mollie Molloy, the girlfriend and only one who weeps for Earl Williams (John Magaro), who’s scheduled to be hanged in the morning. All Robert Morse has to do is to walk on stage as Pincus, who brings Earl’s reprieve, to make the audience applaud. He’s lost none of his comic chops and is hysterically funny as the befuddled but ultimately decent messenger. Dylan Baker is an “actor’s actor” who always works, and always does a fine job. Here, he’s the reporter who seems to be constantly on the phone. There are several of these old time standing telephones on the set, in gold, red, and black. Jefferson Mays is, as always, perfect; he’s beset upon, trying to bring some semblance of order, and is totally germ phobic. The moment when he looks upon his now besmirched glove is priceless. Everyone else in the cast is wonderful, especially Patricia Conolly as Jennie, the maid, and Holland Taylor as the stuffy but plucky Mrs. Grant. The plot is pretty thin. It’s 1928 in a rough and tumble press office in Chicago. The “boys” are waiting for a convicted cop killer, Earl Williams, to be hanged so they can get the story into the early edition. Earl’s girlfriend, Mollie, believes he’s innocent, and is willing to sacrifice herself. Hildy aims to quit reporting and move to NYC with his fiancée and her mother; he misses the going-away party but is determined to catch the train. Earl Williams breaks free, then turns up in a surprising place. A cop (Micah Stock) has a terrible Cherman accent and a wacky theory of criminology; he brings in hamburgers to the reporters. Back on the note of being timely, there’s something deeply disturbing about The Front Page. While at times it’s funny, a lot of the humor comes from misogyny, verbal abuse, and physical brutality. The last is particularly unamusing, and as a longtime fan of Christopher McDonald, it grieved me to see him threaten and manhandle a woman. The insults in this play are particularly belligerent and offensive, and much of the audience seemed to lap it up with relish. It would be wonderful to be able to dismiss the nastiness a relic from a bygone non-PC era, but it’s not that at all. We’ve become desensitized to sexism, invective, and outrageous claims. It’s sad to say, but this behavior is prevalent every time we turn on the news. Add paranoia, and you have a perfect synergy of 1928 sensibilities and our current campaign for the presidency.
