Back in 1927, a piece which playfully parodied the fancies and foibles of one of America's leading acting families - in this case the Barrymores - must have seemed a surefire bet for Broadway success and so it proved.
But in an age when celebrity rules, most stars have their lives mercilessly exposed, topical satire is readily available on TV and radio and the only Barrymore most of us have heard of is the unfortunate Michael, George S Kaufman and Edna Ferber's play is very old hat indeed.
It has to be said that Peter Hall's production is not really worth the amount of time, money and talent that has been spent on it and it is no surprise to discover that few experienced theatregoers have ever seen it before. This is partly because it requires a cast of 14, some of whom have no more than a handful of lines to speak.
It does not even tax the ability of those actors who have the leading roles. Judi Dench, for instance, is largely unemployed in the role of Fanny Cavendish, matriarch of the acting clan, being largely restricted to acerbic comments about the antics of her grandson Anthony. He has escaped from Hollywood after assaulting his director and becoming involved in the latest of a long line of romantic disasters.
Toby Stephens almost accidentally ends up with the juiciest role in the play - obviously based on the flamboyant John Barrymore - but only because he has the opportunity for some swordplay and the wearing of ridiculous disguises.
There are a few cherishable moments vouchsafed to Peter Bowles and Julia McKenzie, as the quarrelling in-laws Herbert and Kitty Dean. The former character, whose career is foundering in the shallows, having discovered the play which he is sure will resurrect his career. Philip Voss also has a couple of good scenes as the Jewish agent - the only role with a modicum of common sense.
Harriet Walter suffers more than anybody else from a part that makes little demand on her ability, though she does convey why Julie Cavendish is the toast of Broadway.
Most of the pleasure comes from regarding the splendour of Anthony Ward's set, with its sweeping staircase down which swish the female Cavendishes while also making a handy duelling ground for the swashbuckling Anthony.
This review appeared on The Stage (UK) web site on November 8, 2001.Return