For those who have never seen it, Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life tells the story of George Bailey, who—through a series of plot twists beyond his control—sacrifices his youthful dreams of wealth and adventure to remain in his dead-end hometown of Bedford Falls. George becomes a kind of folk hero at the building and loan started by his father, dedicating himself to helping the town’s largely working-class population escape the slums, until one Christmas Eve a terrible mistake drives him to the brink of suicide. But George is saved by a visit from his guardian angel, who shows him what life would have been like for the citizens of Bedford Falls had he never been born. The horrifying vision restores George’s will to live and validates the optimism of the film’s title—for George and his loved ones, it truly has been a wonderful life. Just like its source material, It’s a Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play—this year’s holiday production at Fell’s Point Corner Theatre—is exactly what it bills itself as: the classic film “adapted” for the stage (by playwright Joe Landry) as though the scene were a 1940s New York radio station, with a handful of actors (assisted by a stage manager and a Foley artist) performing the forty-plus speaking roles. Apparently the concept has proved popular with critics: Since its 1996 premiere at Stamford Center for the Arts in Connecticut, Landry’s “radio play” has been praised as “fresh and inventive” (Chicago Sun-Times), “a must-see” (San Diego Union-Tribune), and “the best holiday choice around” (Chicago Tribune). I share these quotes (taken from Landry’s website) simply to acknowledge that my own opinion of the show seems to be in the minority. Yet I cannot understand why anyone at Fell’s Point Corner Theatre—and especially director Mike Moran—thought it would be a good idea to stand in front of prop microphones for ninety minutes, scripts in hand, trying to recreate the magic of Capra’s delicately balanced film (which itself walks a razor’s edge between catharsis and schmaltz). Or why anyone wouldn’t rather see the genuine article—recently restored and available on DVD and Blu-Ray—in the comfort of their living room. Allow me to clarify slightly. I’ve read reviews of several other productions of the show, and it sounds like Landry’s intent was not merely to copy and paste Capra’s screenplay (co-written by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett, who really should be credited in the program), but to use It’s a Wonderful Life as a vehicle for revisiting a lost world: not the nostalgia-drenched burg of Bedford Fords but the barely contained chaos of live radio. Writing for CityBeat.com about a production at the Monmouth Theatre in Newport, Kentucky, Jennifer Davis notes that “half the fun is in the visual details and the off-mic character interactions…. We get to see the disarray (staged though it might be), the perpetually late actor and the backstage tension so often hidden behind a curtain.” The trouble at Fell’s Point is that with the exception of a brief introductory sequence in which several performers arrive at the studio and the stage manager (Alyse O’Steen) counts down to air time, the characters in Moran’s production do not give any indication that they have “off-mic” relationships or even that they continue to exist after they step away from the microphones. There is no “perpetually late actor,” no “backstage tension”—indeed, scarcely anything happens onstage that would indicate more is going on than a group of Baltimoreans taking turns reading aloud from a beloved script. Correction: Twice during the show the actors “interrupt” George’s story to advertise products. There’s a jingle for a Duck’s Toilet Cake sung to the tune of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” and another for an imaginary hair tonic. (Davis reports that in the Newport production two intermissions feature live holiday music sung by the radio station’s “singing trio,” which sounds considerably more charming.) I don’t know whether the jingles were written by Landry, Moran, or someone else in the cast or crew, but either way they are not particularly funny. The cast members try hard and seem to be enjoying themselves, but aside from Moran (who plays an Italian barkeep and the local cabbie, among other supporting roles), no one is particularly skilled at creating distinct voices or characters. John Compher’s Clarence (the guardian angel) sounds just like George’s Uncle Billy; Kara Turner’s Violet, the town “siren,” sounds just like George’s secretary, who sounds just like the state bank examiner. Jonathan Sachsman, who plays George, appears to be the same age as Rich Levinson, who plays George’s father, and both men seem younger than Moran, who plays George’s kid brother, Harry. The result is that scenes become crowded and difficult to follow, even for those who are familiar with the story. Virginia Frank brings a pleasant sweetness to Mary Hatch, the girl George marries, but it’s the same pleasant sweetness whether Mary is a love-struck teenager or a middle-aged housewife. Sachsman plays young George as an exaggerated version of grown-up George, making it difficult to take seriously many of the early scenes intended to establish the man’s natural decency; likewise, Stephen Rourke’s booming, cartoon cackle makes it difficult to take seriously any scenes involving the villainous Mr. Potter—played so broadly, all the talk of dreams and disappointment, of virtue and selfishness, sounds impossibly hokey. Scenic designer Sherrionne Brown and lighting designer Jenn Mikulski create a credible radio studio (Kevin Heckathorn is credited with set construction), and either Jim Eberly or Dan Moran capably man the sound effects table. (I’m not sure whom I saw in the role.) Yet nobody at Fell’s Point, whether onstage or off, succeeded in transporting me to that charmed place called Bedford Falls. If you want to experience that illusion, I can only recommend going to the source. I’m sure you’ll be able to find it somewhere on your TV this month. It’s a Wonderful Life: A Live Radio Play is playing at Fell’s Point Corner Theatre, located at 251 South Ann Street in Baltimore, on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 8 PM, and Sundays at 2 PM, through December 20th. Tickets are $10-$17 for adults and $5 for kids. For more information, visit http://fpct.org/ or call 410-276-7837.
