Having written about Alfred Lunt yesterday, I thought digging up this column from 5.5.17 would be a nice follow-up:
When on May 5, 1958, Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne opened in a new Broadway play, no one knew (let alone the two of them), that it would be their swan song: a grand finale to their thirty-five year run as the premier acting team of the American stage. And how fitting that this illustrious couple, genuine theatre royalty, went out with a bang and not a whimper. Their final Broadway visit was The Visit, by Swiss playwright and author Friedrich Dürrenmatt, and they each received the reviews of their careers. I’ve often been asked, “What play might I like to go back in time to see?” and either the opening night of The Visit is as high up on my list as that of A Streetcar Named Desire, Death of a Salesman or Oklahoma!
This Playbill is a bit faded, but the banner actually was green. The magazine was in the habit at the time of experimenting with different colors. There are purple, red and orange ones as well.
Rehearsals for The Visit began in London in November, 1957. Having rarely worked with a director of such forward thinking ideas as the innovative Brit Peter Brook, it was a testament to the Lunts that rather than be intimidated, they were fascinated at delving into a new process, as Lynn Fontanne described: “Alfred and I have been directing each other for over thirty years. You know, we never really trusted anyone else, but he’s the first person we really trust when it comes to taste. He appeals to the actor’s imagination — the area where the actor is a specialist — and that why we’re so excited about him.”
It was a mutual admiration. Brook was quoted as saying, “Directing Lunt is a revelation. You can’t imagine the countless tiny details that Alfred puts into a performance. This may sound like finicky acting, but these painstaking details make up an enormous conception. It is like one of Seurat’s pointillist paintings. Each little dot is not art, but the whole is magnificent. Alfred and Lynn start by getting a broad outline of what they’re going to do and then they fill in the details. It’s absolutely like somebody making a mosaic. They work effortlessly from one detail to the next — four, five points — one after another. They’re deep and flexible people and they have lightening speed and great artistic glory.”
Alfred Lunt as Anton Schill and Lynn Fontanne as Claire Zachanassian in The Visit (1958)
Photo by Florence Vandamm
Audiences possibly expecting a romantic or comedic romp from the Lunts, were instead greeted with the darkest tale the famed duo had ever undertaken. As Ethan Mordden writes in The American Theatre: “The Visit follows the return of the richest woman in the world to her shabby Swiss hometown. She left it, half a century before, unmarried, pregnant, friendless, and despised. Now she offers an incredible fortune to her former fellow citizens if they give her justice by killing the man who wronged her. Naturally, the people refuse, but before long they are buying luxuries on credit and looking tense. In the end, they give her what she wants.”
It was a difficult tour of the English provinces, Ireland and Scotland, as the play puzzled much of its audience. But before the Lunts would find out if London was any more hospitable, they were rescued by the well-established and successful American producer, Roger Stevens, who had seen and liked it in Ireland and now wanted to put it on in New York. He suggested it as the perfect tenant for the newly renovated Globe Theatre, which had just undergone an expensive facelift and interior renovation and was ready for its grand reopening. Stevens added an extra enticement by using his capacity as part-owner of the Globe to offer renaming the theatre after the Lunts, ensuring not only a “yes,” but a gala opening night for the ages.
Tickets were printed in gold and the star-studded presence of Laurence Olivier, Henry Fonda, Helen Hayes, Katharine Cornell, Peter Ustinov, Mary Martin, Bette Davis, Ginger Rogers and Beatrice Lillie among so many others, garnered its own review in the New York Times. In the column directly next to the review, there was a report of “Champagne between acts, sartorial elegance and a break with the old theatrical custom to permit smoking in the mezzanine,” actually prompting one audience member in the article to proclaim, “It’s about time!”
The reviews for the Lunts were love letters. Brooks Atkinson wrote: “Under Peter Brook’s ingenious direction, they give an unforgettable performance.” Note how Atkinson pairs them as one in that description, as if the two cannot be separated. He also took care to embrace the difficult play: “They are devoting their genius to a bold, grisly drama of negativism and — genius is what they have.” The Lunts were given the gift of a much deserved hit at the twilight of their careers.