A Master Carpenter

Edward Albee was born in 1928. Just five years ago, his first play appeared off Broadway. Three short plays followed. Then in 1962, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? opened on Broadway. Although opinions varied, none denied him an astonishing gift for mimicry. His dialogue was authentically, shockingly idiomatic. He displayed a near faultless control over the theatrical machinery. The debate raged over what Mr. Albee meant to say. What was his point of view? That all human beings are bastards? Many thought so. When questioned about the play in a New York Times interview, S. N. Behrman observed: “I guess I can’t help it; I love my family.” Meanwhile, the play ran, and runs, to full houses. Newsweek gave Mr. Albee the full cover treatment. Arlene Francis interviewed him on the radio. There were chats in major supplements. And following the recent opening of his second Broadway play, The Ballad of the Sad Café, Mr. Albee joined John Steinbeck on a cultural exchange trip to Europe and the Soviet Union. He had become an international figure.

For those nagged by the suspicion that all this is too much, too soon, his latest play is reassuring. Ballad is an adaptation of Carson McCullers’ 1951 short novel. But surely “adaptation” is the wrong word. For Mr. Albee has transferred to the stage a story which contains but three lines of conversation; which hangs upon mood, color and suggestion.

WD

About the Author

W. H. von Dreele

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Edward Albee was born in 1928. Just five years ago, his first play appeared off Broadway. Three short plays followed. Then in 1962, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? opened on Broadway. Although opinions varied, none denied him an astonishing gift for mimicry. His dialogue was authentically, shockingly idiomatic. He displayed a near faultless control over the theatrical machinery. The debate raged over what Mr. Albee meant to say. What was his point of view? That all human beings are bastards? Many thought so. When questioned about the play in a New York Times interview, S. N. Behrman observed: “I guess I can’t help it; I love my family.” Meanwhile, the play ran, and runs, to full houses. Newsweek gave Mr. Albee the full cover treatment. Arlene Francis interviewed him on the radio. There were chats in major supplements. And following the recent opening of his second Broadway play, The Ballad of the Sad Café, Mr. Albee joined John Steinbeck on a cultural exchange trip to Europe and the Soviet Union. He had become an international figure.

For those nagged by the suspicion that all this is too much, too soon, his latest play is reassuring. Ballad is an adaptation of Carson McCullers’ 1951 short novel. But surely “adaptation” is the wrong word. For Mr. Albee has transferred to the stage a story which contains but three lines of conversation; which hangs upon mood, color and suggestion.