There is a strange artificiality to Susan Strasberg's performance which really throws this movie off kilter. Obviously she's playing a very theatrical young woman who lives for the stage, and in certain scenes (particularly the party scene where she is not only intoxicated from champagne but the dreamy proximity to so many Broadway celebrities) this technique is effective, but she never turns it off. In tender, heartfelt moments with Henry Fonda's seasoned producer and Christopher Plummer's blossoming playwright, both of whom are supposed to be madly in love with her, she's frightfully unresponsive. She's like a pretty little China Doll whose eyes can blink.
Nevertheless, there is much to like about this film. Fonda, Plummer and Herbert Marshall are superb as various incarnations of success who all become enchanted with Strasberg and her bewildering determination to be a star. They are all caught up in the complicated and decidedly unromantic machinery of the theatre world, and she represents the innocence they've either forgotten (Marshall), lost (Fonda), or are in jeopardy of losing (Plummer). (Although again, as Strasberg plays her, the innocence seems like a put-on, a florid, elaborate joke.) Part of the pleasure of the film is seeing Plummer in one of his very first, pre-"Sound of Music" roles. A darkly compelling leading man during this time with brooding traces of the new method acting style, he and the old school Fonda work well together - there's an interesting "passing the torch" dynamic there.
But the real reason to see this film is the stunning location photography of New York City. The director, Sidney Lumet, has always loved the city just as much as Woody Allen, and here it is practically the star. There is an exquisite scene in a snow blanketed park (Central?) that is as vivid as being there.
There is an added poignancy to this picture as Strasberg's part as an actress on the verge of "making it" was, I believe, intended to neatly dovetail with her own emerging stardom. A stardom that was, alas, to be short-lived.
Nevertheless, there is much to like about this film. Fonda, Plummer and Herbert Marshall are superb as various incarnations of success who all become enchanted with Strasberg and her bewildering determination to be a star. They are all caught up in the complicated and decidedly unromantic machinery of the theatre world, and she represents the innocence they've either forgotten (Marshall), lost (Fonda), or are in jeopardy of losing (Plummer). (Although again, as Strasberg plays her, the innocence seems like a put-on, a florid, elaborate joke.) Part of the pleasure of the film is seeing Plummer in one of his very first, pre-"Sound of Music" roles. A darkly compelling leading man during this time with brooding traces of the new method acting style, he and the old school Fonda work well together - there's an interesting "passing the torch" dynamic there.
But the real reason to see this film is the stunning location photography of New York City. The director, Sidney Lumet, has always loved the city just as much as Woody Allen, and here it is practically the star. There is an exquisite scene in a snow blanketed park (Central?) that is as vivid as being there.
There is an added poignancy to this picture as Strasberg's part as an actress on the verge of "making it" was, I believe, intended to neatly dovetail with her own emerging stardom. A stardom that was, alas, to be short-lived.