"The Wisdom Tooth" at the Hollis Expounds a Not-So-Freudian Form of Self-Realization

Two seasons ago a stimulating comedy, hight "Beggar on Horseback", graced our stage. It was the translation by two young men, Connelly and Kaufman, of a German idea into American manners and language. They were acclaimed, justly, as play-wrights of promise and the world settled back to await more words of wisdom from them. In time, their partnership was dissolved but now one of them has broken his silence. Which leads us, not altogether inevitably, to Marc Connelly's latest play, "The Wisdom Tooth", now at the Hollis.

It is a comedy, in three acts and seven scenes, all of which are devoted to the telling of a not-unusual story. Charley Bemis came to New York from the country and gradually worked his way up to a senior clerkship, a situation whereby he has been enabled to save a little money. Then, with the aid of a clear-sighted young woman, 'his girl', and a tooth-ache-inspired nightmare, he realizes he is not as he thought he was: The city has put its stamp upon him. Roused, he asserts his individuality--to such an extent that he loses his position. So the play closes on him, an emancipated and jobless being, proud in his new-found identity and in the idea that he is unique and separate from all other people.

It is not a new thought nor one the cogency of which we feel to be overwhelming. Granting the dramatist's premises--a concession we are absolutely unwilling to make--the proof of his thesis is not completely convincing. And the treatment of his theme is not startlingly revolutionary. Aside from the obvious shadow of the "Beggar on Horseback", here is more than a suggestion of Barrie, and even a hint--God save the mark--of Maeterlinck. It is probably in the manner of its telling that the reason can be found for the strangely unsatisfying quality of the play. Undeniably it is written badly. There are moments when Mr. Connelly's genius for portraying the 'homus Americanus' is allowed full sway, and what takes place behind the footlights then becomes amusing and interesting. But when he ventures into the land of elves and gnomes and a forgotten boyhood, Connelly so patently lacks grace and deftness that the result is heavy-handed beyond words. Once or twice he revives sufficiently to shake off the unfortunate claims of fantasy and inserts such a scene as that between a couple of truculent schoolboys, but not often, and these rare seconds are lost in the general mawkishness. Moreover, the thin material of the plot is stretched almost to the breaking-point. And indeed, who are we to say it did not snap altogether somewhere along in the second act." Certainly something was wrong there.

The casting is excellent throughout: unquestionably it would have been a dreary evening otherwise. Thomas Mitchell and Anne Brewer are capable and convincing in the leading roles, but the laurels go to Edwin Lewis Phillips, who plays, and admirably, the "Skeeter" of the old days.

If you don't take your theatre-going too seriously, "The Wisdom Tooth" will prove a pleasant and innocuous entertainment. Besides, you may join with the rest of the audience in the sensation, without the reality of three hours' consecutive and brilliant cerebration