Wonderful in-depth piece about Clifford Odets in The New Yorker.
The article pretty much got it all right … and I very much agree with John Lahr’s statement that it was not that Odets lost his talent, it was that the audience had changed. If you read his later stuff (Flowering Peach for example – excerpt here) it is obvious that not a THING has happened to his voice. But the audience of 1935 who lost their MINDS over Waiting for Lefty (excerpt) and Awake and Sing (excerpt) was not the same as the audience of 1954 for Flowering Peach. Despite the fact that it did not have a successful run as a play, it almost won the Pulitzer (and well-deserved, at least as a nomination – Cat on a Hot Tin Roof won – and it’s obviously the better play) – but it’s not like Flowering Peach was a massive flop.
But I’m biased. I would read the damn DOODLES Odets made in the MARGINS of his drafts. His work means that much to me.
Night Music – the last play produced by The Group Theatre – the failure of which brought about the ultimate failure of the theatre company – is a wonderful play – it reminds me of some of Saroyan’s greatest works. It also predates some of Lanford Wilson’s bigger plays, like Balm in Gilead (only without the drug addiction and the bleak nihilism). Odets was always an optimist. Night Music probably wouldn’t hold up well under scrutiny – and it is never performed now – but what a lovely lyrical piece of writing.
Anyway – here’s the New Yorker piece in full.
It always makes me happy to see Odets get “the props”. I think he’s highly under-rated as a playwright. Cary Grant (one of his dearest friends – who helped him out financially during the end of his life, when he was really struggling) always thought so. As a matter of fact, Cary Grant got his second Oscar nomination for None but the Lonely Heart – Odets’ first (and only, sadly) foray as a director. It’s a socially conscious piece of work – and therefore rather tiresome – but the style? The mood? Superb – it’s a fantastic moody noir. I love that he and Grant were friends. They came from the same poverty-struck background, and they both became massive stars – Grant’s appeal was wider, obviously – but Odets’ plays actually MEANT something to the general public during the 30s. He was in the fire WITH them. He became a symbol.
But the writing!! Everyone who came after him (Miller, Williams) all list him as a primary influence. Odets lists Chekhov as his main influence – and it shows.
In terms of those following in his footsteps, imitating him, trying to re-do what he did naturally … it’s tough to measure his influence. Odets kind of stands alone. He really does. Without Odets, there would be no Death of a Salesman. Without Odets, there would be no Angels in America (I think Kushner’s writing is very good, but it’s all Odets.) There’s a lot of Odets in Shanley’s stuff.
Odets’ shadow is long long long.
