The Front Page will star Nathan Lane as Walter Burns, John Slattery as Hildy Johnson, John Goodman as Sheriff Hartman, Jefferson Mays as Bensinger, Holland Taylor as Mrs. Grant, and Sherie Rene Scott as Mollie Malloy, with additional casting to be announced.
The show is set in the press room of Chicago's Criminal Courts Building which is buzzing with reporters covering the story of an escaped prisoner. When star reporter Hildy Johnson (Slattery) accidentally discovers the runaway convict, he and his editor Walter Burns (Lane) conspire to hide the man from the other reporters, while they chase the biggest scoop of their careers.
Director Jack O'Brien begins and ends each act with a tableau. Until Lane arrives, the action in between those stylish freezes rarely unthaws. The direction is stately when it needs to be raucous. Likewise, Douglas W. Schmidt's set is grand, not grungy enough to be a press room in a prison. Occasionally, a few supporting players break through. Robert Morse in the cameo of a boozed-up messenger emerges as lower than the worn linoleum. Sherie Rene Scott goes period with an uncanny Joan Crawford impersonation, right out of 'Rain.' Jefferson Mays, once again, recycles Franklin Pangborn, playing a persnickety poem-writing (wink, wink) reporter. Oddly enough, Mays received a big ovation at his entrance. Were people applauding his recent 'Oslo' triumph, or did they think Lane was reprising his performance from 'The Nance'? From a few rows away, the two men look a lot alike.
With his jauntily angled fedora and suit jacket slung over his shoulder, Slattery comes across as more of a Rat Pack swinger than a flapper-following flirt just before the Jazz Age was snuffed out by Black Monday. But it suits him and he's an instant bright spot among the malcontents who've been forced into a long night awaiting the 7 AM hanging of Earl Williams, an illiterate white man who has been convicted of killing a black cop. Hildy's plans inspire caustic merriment among his pals, who insist it won't be long until he 'has seven kids, a mortgage and belongs to a country club.' There's also much ribbing of New York newspapers, especially the New York Times ('might as well work for a bank,' one says), inside jokes from two authors who knew newspapers, Chicago and its Second City neuroses better than anyone.
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