Winnie the Pooh

I kid you not. A.A. Milne, the food of our collective youth, has made it into the Loeb Drama Center.

Naturally the result is flawless. Director Arthur Friedman gives us a Pooh that is moving, tender, light, and at times bursting with social import. Friedman establishes in the course of his entertainment an extraordinary communion with A.A.'s thought patterns; it is as if the man himself were reading his stories aloud.

Jane Speiser's illustrations are, particularly when right-side-up, singularly appropriate to the work at hand. The modest, unattributed set serves Peter Weil's original conception nicely.

Briefly, the conception is this: a narrator (Friedman) to read the stories; actors to speak the lines; and slides to illustrate the plot. The combined effect is a multi-dimensional, quasi-psychedelic montage of light and sound embracing the untampered-with essence of Edward Bear.

As Pooh we have the gruff Andrew T. Weil, who plays the part midway between the young Albert Alligator and a zeppelin. Christopher Robin is James Shuman, and vice versa. And Piglet is rendered in a whining monotone not unlike a dog-whistle by the porcine Francine Stone.

In cameos, Ken Tigar shines as Tigger, Leland Moss pleases the kiddies as Rabbit, and Mark Ritts takes off as Owl. But the genius lies in Charles Ascheim's sensitive, sunglassed portrayal of Eeyore. Here is a characterization of such depth, such impact, such raw power, that it defies description.