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If you want to measure how much things have changed since Sidney Howard's play, "They Knew What They Wanted," won the Pulitzer prize in the late Twenties, go to the Shubert and see its revival with Paul Muni. In his preface Howard claims timelessness for his play, since "it is shamelessly, consciously, and even proudly derived from the legend of Tristram and Yseult..."
The Tristram and Yseult legend is indeed timeless. Unfortunately Howard's play is not. Perhaps this is because it is untrue to the legend. It is a comedy; sympathy is with the husband, his wife loves him after all, and the lover goes off to 'Frisco. The poignancy of the husband's forgiveness is thus lost, doubly so today with the stigma of adultery in its present washed-out condition.
The diluted love potion is not the only hoary element, though. For some reason, the third act starts off with an argument between a Catholic priest and the lover, who has been reading a communist journal. The padre's academic argument (there are only six pleasures of the flesh, but what fun you can have with the immortal soul) scarcely resolves the religious-materialist conflict of 1949.
At tortoise pace the plot progresses to its long-expected solution. But though you implore acceleration, though you cannot respond sympathetically to the problems, you will be deeply impressed with Muni's superb performance. He utters perhaps too many "Dio Mio's," but the warmth and understanding which he brings to the role of the Italian-American wine producer are unsurpassed. He spends the entire second act in bed, recuperating from two broken legs. His gestures and facial expressions, worthy of pantomime, carry not only that act, but the whole play. I found myself waiting impatiently for his return each time he was absent from the stage. This pretty well covers the performance of his colleagues--adequate, but unlike Muni, bound to their creaking vehicle.
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