He done it again.
Paddy Chayefsky, that old West Bronx pool shark, took a cue from the late Elaine Carrington, used some high left Yiddish and ran the table to emerge unchallenged as the Wille Hoppe of Shubert’s Alley. His The Tenth Man, the most heart-warming bit of alleged theater to hit town since Brooks Atkinson was a cub, drew loud hosannas from that sucker list euphemistically referred to as the New York Drama Critics Circle and promises to keep sending ’em home from the Booth, misty-eyed, for some time to come.
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