By Bart Greenberg***Polymath Dorothy Parker was a critic, poet, short story writer, lyricist, screenwriter, advertising copywriter, political activist and satirist, among many other genres of the written word. And conceive-director Douglas Carter Beane attempted to offer up samples of each of these careers within his 90-minute piece, Finding Dorothy Parker. Although presented at the 
elegant cabaret space, The Laurie Beechman Theatre, the piece was unquestionably a play reading with a few musical interludes—four stools, four music stands and four performers, with a baby grand piano at the back of the stage; and that was it. Almost exclusively presented were the words of the celebrated author: lots of words, and most of them caustic, bitter and disappointed. Parker was not the most emotionally wide-ranging of writers, yet the evening suffered from a lack of variety.
What did work was the quartet of remarkable performers interpreting Parker: Julie Halston, Ann Harada, Jackie Hoffman and Anika Larsen. Each had lengthy monologues to displ
ay their talents, as well as working as a unit for some shared topics. They even beautifully harmonized on two songs that Parker had provided the lyrics for: “I Wished on the Moon” (music by Ralph Rainger) and “How Am I to Know” (Jack King); the latter provided Harada a chance to show off her beautiful voice and the former allowing Hoffman to tackle a hysterical imitation of Billie Holiday. These moments added a nice break to the parade of acidity.
The four actresses were clad in elegant black dresses with brightly colored wrist ribbons (the meaning of which was explained late in the show: an episode in Parker’s life of waking up in a hospital room). Halston read from a week of diary entries: a quickly vanishing partner (“Joe left word that he was going to the country for the weekend, but didn’t deign to say what country.”), plus a gay best buddy and a host of friends Parker despises. Halston caught the quiet despair, barely covered over by
brittle bravado. (One oddity of this sequence was each daily report broken up by harsh “music” and marionette-like movements by the cast—more wearing rather than illustrative. Larsen crossed to the Beechman bar to inhabit a bitter socialite trapped in a seedy, dark speakeasy as she gradually gets drunk and decimates her escort and his friends: “She dresses like she ran out of burning building.” The actress brought this woman to life, but couldn’t find much reason for us to like her.
Harada had enormous fun (and so did the audience) revealing both the outer and inner thoughts of a woman stuck with an unwelcome dancing partner. Hoffman had a similar (too similar?) piece about a dinner guest saddled with a less than 
interesting companion, though this sequence had a more optimistic ending. Both performers brought wit and personal style to these parts, and clearly defined every one mentioned in their monologues.
Ultimately, Finding Dorothy Parter was an evening wherein the parts were much greater than the whole (Beane needs to find a way to vary the material before moving forward). When a recording of the real Parker was played, reading her piece “One Perfect Rose,” her own delivery was a surprise—much gentler, smoother and less jaded than the presentation indicated, which gave the twist at the end of the piece even more power. Perhaps everyone involved should take a hint from the author.
Photos by Bart Greenberg
