Awfully Glad He’s Such a Cad

Despite all appearances, Garry Essendine, the spoiled, aging matinee idol, is an estimable fellow. That may be hard to recognize beneath his pouty fits, his willed helplessness, his bossiness and his lovemaking to every woman who makes herself available, including the wife of a friend. “Present Laughter” is a coming-of-age story of a middle-aged man who should already have matured but hasn’t--fame and charm got in his way. Noel Coward wrote the part so he could play it, and he appeared in the show’s first run in 1942, so he knew well Garry’s hidden qualities. It takes a rare actor to make Garry appear ridiculous enough to make you laugh at his vanity yet authentic enough to allow you to root for him when he finally sorts out his own life.

In a burnished new production of the play at the Pasadena Playhouse, Robert Curtis Brown gives us a Garry Essendine for keeps, a man with range and style--one who’s likable and entertaining no matter what fiasco his own selfish behavior has inspired. “Everybody worships me,” says an exhausted Garry, “it’s nauseating.” Brown sends the inner points of his eyebrows sloping upward in a practiced mask of indignation. His Garry is constantly indignant that the world is not conforming to his view of it. When a would-be “serious” playwright named Roland Maule (Scott Lowell) lectures Garry for being superficial, Brown conveys the hilarious discomfort of a man who believes in never being ruffled suddenly confronted with no other option. Here Coward makes his case for style over moralizing in the theater--Garry is much more likable than the lecturing, possibly insane Maule, who, of course, comes to worship at Garry’s feet.

Like Coward’s “Hay Fever” or Kaufman and Hart’s “The Man Who Came to Dinner,” “Present Laughter” is a portrait of the Theatrical Presence in a domestic setting, where he is comically too large to belong. Garry is a cad who dismisses a love-struck debutante by dramatically declaring, “I belong to the public.” But Garry comes to realize he belongs to himself and to his wife, the astonishingly loyal Liz (Finola Hughes).

Brown is absolutely in sync with Coward’s voice, making this production a living, breathing piece of theater history, especially wonderful to see in a historic house like the Playhouse (which staged the play in 1950). Under the commanding direction of Richard Seyd, the cast, each one playing either an obstacle or abettor to Garry’s better self, is vivid as well. Kellie Waymire, who was so delightful playing a dog in “Sylvia” at the Old Globe two years ago, is equally delightful playing a debutante who uses her Breck Girl blond hair and round-faced beauty in a futile attempt to snare a famous man. As a more sophisticated temptress, Kaitlin Hopkins is masterful as a silky-voiced phony, a society woman who can purr smoothly to a man one moment and the next order a servant around like a harridan.

Gerald Emerick is winning as Garry’s Cockney servant; Gloria Dorson is very funny as Miss Erikson, the Scandinavian maid who smokes like a chimney and believes in spiritualism. Scott Lowell’s manic energy as the crazed playwright strays a bit over the top. Charles Levin gets off some classic deadpan looks as Henry, Garry’s business partner, and a cuckold. Audrie Neenan is crisply comic in the role of Monica, Garry’s frighteningly efficient secretary. Both Keith Langsdale, as Garry’s manager, and Hughes deliver adequate straight-man performances.

John Iacovelli designs Garry’s London townhouse to emphasize the character’s lack of coherence. The navy-patterned, red-fringed curtains on the center window match with neither the lilac wall, the sky-blue wall nor the emerald-green wall. In fact, none of the artifacts or furniture matches, and one detects the signs of a set designer trying too hard. Monique L’Heureux’s lighting, on the other hand, is lovely and appropriate, and makes a clear distinction between Garry’s mornings, when he must deal with his many social obligations, and his evenings, when reflection takes hold of him.

Near the end, Garry has a scene in which he addresses a roomful of friends as if he were a detective at the climax of a murder mystery, telling each person something he or she has been hiding about himself. Garry is able to do this because he has finally figured out who he is in relation to each person in his social orbit. Robert Curtis Brown not only wears Garry’s silk dressing robes gracefully, he also takes the character to maturity without losing a single laugh, and that is the mark of an actor whose grip on the role is absolute.

* “Present Laughter,” Pasadena Playhouse, 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena, Tuesdays-Fridays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 5 and 9 p.m.; Sundays, 2 and 7 p.m. Ends Aug. 23. $13.50-$42.50. (626) 356-PLAY. Running time: 2 hours, 50 minutes.

Kellie Waymire: Daphne Stillington

Gloria Dorson: Miss Erikson/Lady Saltburn

Gerald Emerick: Fred

Audrie Neenan: Monica Reed

Robert Curtis Brown: Garry Essendine

Finola Hughes: Liz Essendine

Scott Lowell: Roland Maule

Charles Levin: Henry Lyppiatt

Keith Langsdale: Morris Dixon

Kaitlin Hopkins: Joanna Lyppiatt

A Pasadena Playhouse production. By Noel Coward. Directed by Richard Seyd. Sets John Iacovelli. Lights Monique L’Heureux. Costumes Randy Gardell. Sound Dominic Kramers. Production stage manager Susie Walsh. Stage manager Andrea Iovino.