Production History & Reviews
There are some pretty good scares in the final scene of "Wait Until Dark" which opened last night at the Ethel Barrymore and which I saw at its last preview. Much of that final scene takes place in total blackness. The heroine is blind, and to give herself a chance against the villain who menaces her, she puts out all the lights.
But Frederick Knott, the author, makes us pay for chills in that scene with a slow start, unnecessarily complicated action and some weak motivation. As the title promises, we do a good deal of waiting for the dark.
The "wienie" -- a Hollywood term meaning The Thing That Everyone is After, the jewels or the secret plans or whatever-- in this story is a doll filled with $50,000 worth of heroin. In circumstances too thick to be related and too thin to be wholly credible, a young Greenwich Village photographer has innocently brought that doll across the Canadian border, and three men are now trying to recover it.
The photographer's wife (Lee Remick) is blind. A set-up is arranged by the criminal trio that will leave her alone for some hours, to give them a chance to play a con game on her and get the "wienie." The main action is concerned with the imposition of the con game, the girl's gradual suspicion of it and her final confrontation of the arch-villain.
But that last scene -- despite its cares -- is typical of the play's fuzziness, The girl, threatened with torture, refuses to reveal where the doll is. One thug says: "Why won't you hand it over? You don't even know why we want it." She doesn't answer. I couldn't think of any answer, either.
Even more than most plays, a thriller exists for its finale. Thus, very much depends on how grippingly, or at least painlessly, the author carries us along to its payoff. In his previous effort, (Dial M for Murder) Mr. Knott was much more diabolically deft. This play carries excess baggage.
A couple of short plays are in effect begun and completed before we even start the main story; a conflict between two of the thugs, then a scrape between them and the mastermind. There is an early offstage crime that is necessary to the story, but nobody is going to hold his breath at the dexterity with which Mr. Knott has supplied it.
Throughout the evening, complexity is mistaken for plot. Endless semaphoring with window blinds, telephone signals, a locked safe (especially disappointing), a good deal of jawing in order to set up somewhat tenuous motives, all these are included, and a lot of disguises. At one point, the trio's leader storms in and out made up as an old man, completely superfluously since the person he is deceiving is the blind girl and he knows she is alone.
This leader is played by Robert Duvall, warmly remembered for the quality and range he displayed in the off-Broadway productions of "A View From the Bridge" and "The Days and Nights of Beebee Fenstermaker." Here he displays an even wider range of accents and mannerisms to much less effect; it is only stock-company riviera.
The shallowness is not Mr. Duvall's fault. We are never clear what the character's compulsion is to these vaudeville quick-changes, or who, in fact, he is. Finally, the part reduces to that crime story mannequin, the clever, arrogant villain in dark glasses-- a stereotype of intelligent amorality.
Val Bisoglio is a good standard thug; Mitchell Ryan is a good less-standard one. But some of their early dialogue sounds odd. One of them asks who sent a certain message, the other replies, "Who indeed?" One of them hopes that the message isn't "a lark." The other says that a woman has been "most helpful to you so far." Perhaps mugs speak that way in Mr. Knott's native England.
Miss Remick simulates blindness very well and goes through the requisite emotional stances quite adequately. What keeps her from generating much appeal is a somewhat monotonous voice. She would be a much more interesting actress if she could develop some vocal color.
Arthur Penn, experienced in directing blind girls from "The Miracle Worker," shows here that he is more reliable in the theater than in films. In the latter he tends to get intoxicated with the possibilities of the camera. In the theater-- more spartan in physical resource-- he is forced to concentrate on intrinsics. This play requires no kind of serious penetration, but he handles its mechanics of staging and pace with a firm and competent hand.
At its worst, the evening is never downright boring, but it is not often enough at its best. We keep wondering why we have to come to the theater nowadays to see a kind of entertainment that is so plentiful on TV, so much more adaptable to films.
The only justification for a thriller is if it is flawlessly first-class, which "Wait Until Dark" is not. Second-class thrillers are like second-class honesty: tolerable, perhaps, but not quite admirable.
--Stanley Kauffmann, February 3 1966
The play premiered at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre in February of 1966, and was directed by Arthur Penn (Kaufmann). Lee Remick played the starring role, and was nominated for a Tony for Best Actress in a Play. Stanley Kauffman gave it a cautiously positive review (especially in praise of Penn), appraising its grasp of suspense but criticizing some glaring plot loopholes. He compares it to Dial "M" for Murder and finds it comes up short.
Directed by Terence Young and starring Audrey Hepburn, the Wait Until Dark movie premiered in October of 1967 ("Wait Until Dark (1967) - IMDb."). Hepburn's portrayal of blindness in the movie differs from what is written in the Broadway script; she visited a school for the blind and learned Braille basics well enough to appear to be reading and writing it in the movie, instead of using mnemonic tricks like sugar cubes as Susy did originally in the theatrical script. Audrey Hepburn herself picked out her costume.
Linda Armstrong, viewing a 1998 Broadway Revival featuring Tarantino as Roat, reported that audiences actively laughed at his more menacing lines as he didn't come off as scary at all (Armstrong). Conover agrees that Tarantino's acting does not translate well from screen to stage (Conover). The New York Times reviewer of the production, however, also notes the "flash-bulb" style lighting and sound effects that turn everyday city noises suspenseful, deeming the technical portion of the production a success.
A recent production at the John W. Engeman Theater met all expectations of the play as a classic (Jacobson). The reviewer, Aileen Jacobson, only takes issue with the original script, criticizing it for being "strewed with far more plot elements than necessary" and also full of "unlikely situations."
Directed by Terence Young and starring Audrey Hepburn, the Wait Until Dark movie premiered in October of 1967 ("Wait Until Dark (1967) - IMDb."). Hepburn's portrayal of blindness in the movie differs from what is written in the Broadway script; she visited a school for the blind and learned Braille basics well enough to appear to be reading and writing it in the movie, instead of using mnemonic tricks like sugar cubes as Susy did originally in the theatrical script. Audrey Hepburn herself picked out her costume.
Linda Armstrong, viewing a 1998 Broadway Revival featuring Tarantino as Roat, reported that audiences actively laughed at his more menacing lines as he didn't come off as scary at all (Armstrong). Conover agrees that Tarantino's acting does not translate well from screen to stage (Conover). The New York Times reviewer of the production, however, also notes the "flash-bulb" style lighting and sound effects that turn everyday city noises suspenseful, deeming the technical portion of the production a success.
A recent production at the John W. Engeman Theater met all expectations of the play as a classic (Jacobson). The reviewer, Aileen Jacobson, only takes issue with the original script, criticizing it for being "strewed with far more plot elements than necessary" and also full of "unlikely situations."
Lee Remick is quicker than the eye. Once she has taken the measure of her adversaries in Frederick Knott's dandy little thriller, "Wait Until Dark," which settled into the Barrymore last evening, their jig is up.
"Their jig is up?" Does that sound old-fashioned? Well, so be it; "Wait Until Dark" revives a pleasant old theatrical game, in spades.
The first move is to place a woman in peril. Make her Miss Remick, and you've got a pretty girl in peril. But then make her a blind pretty girl and you've got an almost classic gambit.
Beleagured Doll
Yes, Miss Remick plays the blind bride of a commercial photographer who is conveniently called away from their Greenwich Village basement flat at the start and who doesn't return until the finish.
Seems some strange woman has entrusted him with a doll for safekeeping. Seems it's loaded to the eyeballs with heroin. And it seems that three depraved types have got a whiff of the big fix and that the most depraved of the three has done away with the mysterious lady. Whereupon all three move in on our heroine under various pretenses.
Whom to trust and whom not to trust is an essential part of this game. Knott keeps our doubts flicking about merrily until hubby and two cops arrive in the nick of time. "In the nick of time"? Well, not really, for Miss Remick, all four other of her adorable senses functioning like mad, has by then taken care of the happening quite handily. All she requires at this point is a bit of luxurious comfort.
Very Mean Type
Robert Duvl plays the most psychotic o the villans, a chap who obviously doesn't like girls to begin with and who is equipped with a bloodproof coverall to kee those nasty stands off his person while engaged in slaughter.
Mitchell Ryan is surprisingly engaging as an ex-con who wins the heroine's confidence, temporarily. And Val Bisiglio is adept at playing a frustratde detective (stock figure, eh)who is only pretending to be a dick.
And Julie Herrod is sassy and perfectly believable as a neighbor's child who runs errands for the basement pair.
Arhur Penn has staged the frolic for everything it's worth.
DidI notice vague smiles of disbelief, of those too easily taken n, as the audience filed out at the finish? Okay, but you all stayed, didn't you, and there was no mistaking that huge gasp from the ladies in the house when, near the finish, Miss Remick faced her direst situaton.
"Direst Situation?" Come on, everybody, Support Lee Remick.
Criticism
Wait Until Dark can be considered, from one point of view, a member of the horror genre. Nickel defines horror as "(1) an appearance of the evil supernatural or of the monstrous (this includes the psychopath who kills monstrously); and (2) the intentional elicitation of dread, visceral disgust, fear, or startlement in the spectator or reader" (Fahy, 15). Of course we may identify the threats in the play to be possible in the world as we know it, and therefore lending itself more to a categorization of "suspense," but we also cannot overlook the fact that Harry Roat is so cold and evil as to be monstrous. Also, to Susy, the action happening was literally supernatural-- outside her senses-- even though it wouldn't be to sighted people. Fear of the dark is one of the most basic human anxieties. Susy, it could be said, is living constantly in the dark.
Blindness is a relatively common disability that is portrayed on film, comprising 13% of all disability roles, mostly male (Safran). Victoria Ann Lewis, in her essay The Dramaturgy of Disability, grapples with the way disabled people are represented in the theatre and how it affects both disabled and non-disabled theatre artists (Lewis). Disability, she notes, is a sign in many works of either taintedness (as in Oedipus Rex) or of angelic innocence (as in Wait Until Dark). Disabled playwrights and artists, since the move for disability civil rights in the 1970s, have been attempting to de-stigmatize and de-mythologize disability by making their disabled characters well-rounded, flawed people, who serve more than a metaphorical role for the story. Susy herself deals with something else that Lewis notices about disabled narratives: the idea that the disabled person is temporarily "ill," and the expectation that they will "cure" themselves by conforming as closely as possible to non-disabled society. Susy expresses her frustration with Sam's expectations about her independence repeatedly throughout the play, asserting over and over again her struggle with becoming the "Champion Blind Lady," which seems to have been forced upon her.
Cheu further tightens the focus by exploring how blind, female protagonists are narrated on screen. He compares womanhood and disability as similar undesirable afflictions. In many films, people who develop disabilities feel that their own lives are over, leading audiences to dehumanize these characters. He specifically mentions Wait Until Dark, which uses the lack of sight that Susy experiences every day to take away power from the audience and make them feel vicariously helpless, reinforcing that the sighted have power over the blind. He categorizes representations of the disabled as dependent, isolated, and infantilized. Susy is all three. Even at the end of the play, when she has killed Roat and triumphed, she still must be saved by her sighted comrades.
Blindness is a relatively common disability that is portrayed on film, comprising 13% of all disability roles, mostly male (Safran). Victoria Ann Lewis, in her essay The Dramaturgy of Disability, grapples with the way disabled people are represented in the theatre and how it affects both disabled and non-disabled theatre artists (Lewis). Disability, she notes, is a sign in many works of either taintedness (as in Oedipus Rex) or of angelic innocence (as in Wait Until Dark). Disabled playwrights and artists, since the move for disability civil rights in the 1970s, have been attempting to de-stigmatize and de-mythologize disability by making their disabled characters well-rounded, flawed people, who serve more than a metaphorical role for the story. Susy herself deals with something else that Lewis notices about disabled narratives: the idea that the disabled person is temporarily "ill," and the expectation that they will "cure" themselves by conforming as closely as possible to non-disabled society. Susy expresses her frustration with Sam's expectations about her independence repeatedly throughout the play, asserting over and over again her struggle with becoming the "Champion Blind Lady," which seems to have been forced upon her.
Cheu further tightens the focus by exploring how blind, female protagonists are narrated on screen. He compares womanhood and disability as similar undesirable afflictions. In many films, people who develop disabilities feel that their own lives are over, leading audiences to dehumanize these characters. He specifically mentions Wait Until Dark, which uses the lack of sight that Susy experiences every day to take away power from the audience and make them feel vicariously helpless, reinforcing that the sighted have power over the blind. He categorizes representations of the disabled as dependent, isolated, and infantilized. Susy is all three. Even at the end of the play, when she has killed Roat and triumphed, she still must be saved by her sighted comrades.