Elaine Stritch: At Liberty

Elaine Stritch's gravel-dusted voice bears witness to a lifetime of roaring successes, strange interludes, and hard times. But that voice also provides a stirring and sassy solo tour through this artist's sometimes funny, sometime frenetic, and more-often-than-not frenzied life in the theater. Although the trim and attractive Stritch is ill-served by the foolish-looking black tights that costumer Paul Taxewell has chosen for her to wear throughout the performance, she is otherwise brilliantly served by material she and John Lahr, as co-constructionists, have devised. Using a stool as her only prop, Stritch is as persuasive a storyteller as she is an interpreter of songs. There is unbridled delight in Stritch's telling of her first big Broadway break as understudy for Ethel Merman (who never missed a performance) in Call Me Madam. That she also agreed to appear at the same time (stealing the show with "Zip") in a revival of Pal Joey which was trying out in New Haven, leads to a hilarious daily (twice on matinee days) commute. Stritch's tour with "The Women" and her comments on fellow actors Gloria Swanson ("she didn't know what day it was") and her detailed imitation of Marge Champion's painfully protracted, self-serving curtain scene is priceless.

You can be sure that 76-year-old Stritch has plenty of juicy and sobering stories to tell and plenty of terrific songs to sing. That she turns them loose in an almost non-stop (barring the intermission) barrage for two and one-half hours on a bare stage suggests she doesn't need any help from anyone. Oh, one piano would have done fine. But wouldn't you know that there is a terrific band in the pit to accompany Stritch in about 24 great show-tunes, all splendidly arranged by the genius Jonathan Tunick?

But that's not even the half of it, as this spry and ever sassy pro takes us on what is essentially a dramatic, turbulent, disturbing and healing odyssey of a woman who was just as often out of control as in control. If ...At Large rarely spins out of control, we can credit Lahr for constructing a very fine and intricate work of autobiographical material that takes us from Stritch's strict Catholic childhood through her on-stage, backstage and off-stage life and into the present.

As her 50-year-career was hampered for too many years by her now-won battle with alcoholism, it was nevertheless always propelled by her love for the stage and her desire to be all that she could as an artist. This is evident in the way she interprets a song, plans her moves, insinuates an attitude with one telling glance, and poignantly defines a personal moment. Notwithstanding her dramatic skills (although no mention is made of her Tony-nominated performance in Edward Albee's A Delicate Balance), it is Stritch's comic and musical timing that is the heart of the show. You can be sure no one has ever sung "Broadway Baby," with such grit, or "The Party's Over," with such poignancy. Her performances in Noel Coward's Sail Away and Stephen Sondheim's Company are legendary, she fulfills every note and nuance in "Why do the Wrong People Travel," and "The Ladies Who Lunch." Don't be surprised to hear that Stritch gets her biggest hand doing Sondheim's "I'm Still Here" ("because I had to") and gets herself and us misty eyed during "The Party's Over," and Charles Deforrest's "When Do the Bells Ring for Me." If the glib songs of Cole Porter, and a few whoopee tunes by Irving Berlin are audience pleasers, the knock-their-socks-off number is "Civilization" ("Bongo, bongo, bongo, I don't wanna leave the Congo...") from the revue Angel in the Wings.

Stritch's crush on Rock Hudson, her strange encounters with Richard Burton, her ill-fated marriage to another boozer, Gig Young, and her ten year marriage to the love of her life, actor John Bay, who died of cancer in 1982, are explored in reflective moments that reveal her ever-present lonely side. With all the musical and anecdotal riches, you may wonder why her long run in Show Boat is not considered. Don't be surprised, however, if you leave the theater singing that almost-forgotten gem "Who's Been Sitting in My Chair," from a short-lived Stritch vehicle, Goldilocks. One thing is sure, you won't forget Elaine Stritch at Liberty anytime soon.