The basis for The Confession of Lily Dare, a new comedy written by and starring Charles Busch, are the movies made by Hollywood during its pre-Production Code era of the early 1930s, when racy stories regarding sex, crime, marriage, and social issues were boldly depicted.
Among their charms, these films notably presented powerful women characters who run big businesses, enjoy sex, and otherwise conduct independent lives. Barbara Stanwyck, Constance Bennett, and Ruth Chatterton are among the players who hit stardom in those years.
Many among Busch’s 25 plays reference Hollywood and its themes, so it’s surprising that only now has he mined this Pre-Code genre to forge the latest vehicle for his cross-dressing artistry.
As an admirer of Busch ever since witnessing his Vampire Lesbians of Sodom at the Limbo Lounge in 1984, I’m sorry to report that The Confession of Lily Dare, which opened on Wednesday at the Cherry Lane Theatre, is scarcely one of his major works.
[Read David Finkle’s ★★★★ review here.]
The subgenre that the playwright fondly exploits here regards a single mother’s devotion for her child, as seen in early ’30s weepers such as Madame X, The Sin of Madelon Claudet, and especially Frisco Jenny, the particulars of which The Confession of Lily Dare often recalls.
Told in a flashback from 1950 by her friends, the story begins as Lily, a teen orphan gently raised in a Swiss convent, arrives at the whorehouse operated by her Aunt Rosalie in San Francisco just in time for the 1906 earthquake to leave her penniless and pregnant. Lily then achieves fame as a cabaret thrush only to be unjustly imprisoned. Later, as her daughter Louise is reared by foster parents, the embittered Lily becomes the entrepreneur madam of a chain of brothels.
From afar, Lily sees Louise become a celebrated opera diva and marry into the nobility. The 1929 stock market crash, a nefarious associate who drives Lily to murder, and a tender reunion in the shadow of the noose are among the subsequent elements in Busch’s two-act scenario.
While all this may sound like a promising story to feature the author’s trademark comical blend of mock melodramatics and camp humor in the manner of his immortal The Lady in Question and Times Square Angel, somehow The Confession of Lily Dare proves to be not nearly as much fun as it should. The period wisecracks are surprisingly few and mostly feeble (although keep an ear out for a nice All About Eve gag). The narration that links and frames the episodic piece tends to be flat.
A significant flaw is that Lily’s character registers as more of a hapless victim than a dynamic individual who climbs the ladder of success wrong by wrong, as Mae West once expressed it. Lily, who apparently has no sex life, is never shown enjoying her ill-gotten fortune. Instead, she suffers shame, rejection, and hard luck.
Oh, how she suffers. A later scene in a gin mill, where a bankrupt and boozy Lily intones “In a Shanty in Old Shanty Town,” amusingly suggests that greater laughter might arise had Busch’s writing and earnest performance as self-sacrificing Lily more sharply satirized her masochistic qualities.
The character and the patchy play really flash into life only twice. Once when Lily groans through “Pirate Joe,” a Kurt Weill-style parody (by Tom Judson), which Busch wittily delivers as a frozen-faced Dietrich send-up clad in gold satin. A sequence when Lily telepathically inspires Louise’s performance in La Traviata thousands of miles away in Paris comically affirms their mother-daughter bond.
Generously sharing the limelight with others, Busch crafts four characters as a nifty showcase for Jennifer Van Dyck, who incisively depicts the gruff Aunt Rosalie as well as a perfectly lovely Louise. Christopher Borg brightly portrays five different individuals; perhaps most memorably a lustful Austrian baron. Nancy Anderson glows as a warmhearted Joan Blondell-type sidekick. Kendal Sparks amiably tickles the keyboard as Lily’s faithful gay chum. Lending a louche elegance to this affair is Howard McGillin in the choice role of a shady Nob Hill dandy who plagues Lily’s existence.
These solid performances notwithstanding, this Primary Stages premiere is not so hot. The pacing by director Carl Andress occasionally lags and his show’s visuals generally look dubious. Set designer B.T. Whitehill provides appropriately purple environs, but why does a story that unfolds during the years 1906-1933 feature an anachronistic view of the Golden Gate Bridge? At least Kirk Bookman’s lighting simulates the fade-outs of vintage cinematography.
Worse, aside from the glam get-up for the “Pirate Joe” number, Busch is dressed in unflattering clothes designed by Jessica Jahn that may be true to Lily’s character but scarcely reflect how Paramount or Warners Brothers would have dolled up their leading lady back in those Pre-Code days. Golly, where’s Travis Banton when you need him?
The Confession of Lily Dare opened January 29, 2020, at the Cherry Lane Theatre and runs through March 5. Tickets and information: cherrylanetheatre.org
