Theater: “Days of Wine and Roses” at Atlantic Theater Company
Movies about alcoholism are nothing new. The 1940s gave us “The Lost Weekend;” the 1950s, “A Star is Born.” More recently there have been films ranging from tragic (“Leaving Las Vegas”) to comic (“Arthur.” )
Perhaps one of the most moving and memorable, to those of a certain age, remains Blake Edwards’ “Days of Wine and Roses.” (1962). Memorable because it represented a left turn for Jack Lemmon and Edwards who previously tended to tilt towards comedy. Moving because of Lee Remick’s stunning performance as Lemmon’s innocent-turned-alcoholic wife.
“DOWAR” was a perfect reflection of its time—the early 1960s. And it should have remained as a memento of the 1960s rather than reappear as the leaden, square, unmoving musical now in previews at the Atlantic.
The story hasn’t changed much. Joe Clay (Brian D’Arcy-James), a slick PR guy in New York City meets Kirsten (Kelli O’Hara), the boss’s secretary, one night at a party. Joe, a raging alki, tries to buy her a drink but she tells him she doesn’t like the taste of alcohol. Undaunted, Joe gets her to try a chocolate-y Brandy Alexander and she decides alcohol isn’t so bad after all.
So they’re off to the races: Joe and Kirsten marry, have a child (Ella Dane Morgan), and start drinking—and drinking some more. One night, Kirsten becomes so drunk she lights up a cigarette and accidentally sets the place on fire. Because of his alcoholism, Joe eventually loses his job and they have to move in with Kirsten’s father (Byron Jennings), a dour Swedish immigrant who hates Joe’s guts for how he “ruined” Kirsten. Moving forward they decide to give up drinking, then fall back off the wagon. “Life seems so dirty without a drink,” Kirsten admits.
The cast is stellar, Craig Lucas writes a good play (“Prelude to a Kiss”), so it’s difficult to say why this musical doesn’t quite gel. But chief among its flaws is Adam Guettel’s clunky score—surprising for the composer of “Light in the Piazza.” Additionally, the smoke-and-drink lifestyle of the early 1960s which the movie captured so well seems embarrassingly dated 60 years later. Fortunately, Kirsten is played by Kelli O’Hara who sings like a lark and is convincingly pathetic as an alcoholic.
Perhaps the New Yorker reviewer said it best back in 1962 when he called the movie “almost unbearable” and said it “plays like an extended ad for Prohibition, three decades after it ended.” I would agree, and add only that a great musical should have you humming at least some of its score as you exit the theater. The only song I was humming afterward wasn’t in the play; it was the title song from the movie by Henry Mancini. Oops.