This play aged surprisingly well. ( )

I first read this when I was eleven. I don't think I quite understood everything, but I knew a good read when I saw it!

Years later I was able to attend the revival with Nathan Lane & Jean Smart (and a slightly miscast Harriet Harris)--what a delight to see these masters bringing the words to life. But this is one of those wonderful plays which read very, very well indeed. It's no doubt better with Nathan Lane, but just imagine Nathan Lane in your head and you will have a marvelous time reading the play yourself.

(And if you love it, then move on to You Can't Take It With You by the same authors, nearly as good, although it won the Pulitzer and this one didn't!)

The plot is genius: a horrible writer--I mean, a horrible person who writes well--is injured and forced to remain bedridden at a (wealthy) suburban home. Much of the play is his entertaining his famous friends, but there are subplots throughout that eventually pay off spectacularly.

A real treat, and aside from modern audiences being less and less able to recognize the allusions to then-current celebrity, it doesn't show its age one bit.
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Great 30's screwball comedy with a cast of dozens. Not as good as You Can't Take It With You, but still solid. Really good women characters which is gratifying. ( )

I'm sure this play would probably convey more delight if only the reader had some sense of who Alexander Woollcott (the personage who inspired the title character) was. Even so, there's plenty of good humor here and the middle class gets its just deserts. The 1942 film certainly brings a smile, but one only wishes that the character of Banjo (played by Jimmy Durante, good as he is) were acted by the original stage performer, Harpo Marx. ( )

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