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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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<text id=91TT2402>
<title>
Oct. 28, 1991: Candy Box
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991
Oct. 28, 1991 Ollie North:"Reagan Knew Everything"
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
THEATER, Page 100
Candy Box
</hdr><body>
<p>By William A. Henry III
</p>
<qt>
<l>ON BORROWED TIME</l>
<l>By Paul Osborn</l>
</qt>
<p> A handful of actors have enough box-office clout to get
produced pretty much any show they want to appear in. One is
George C. Scott, who last came to Broadway in 1986 as an aging,
derelict Huck Finn in an unpopular bit of myth debunking called
The Boys in Autumn. Now Scott is back as a quintessential foxy
grandpa, all harmless cuss words and mock-fierce benevolence,
in a sentimental 1938 comedy-drama about an old man's battle of
wits with death, personified as the prissy bureaucrat Mr. Brink.
Scott's new role may be at the opposite end of the emotional
spectrum from his last, but it prompts the same question: Why
this play?
</p>
<p> One answer: On Borrowed Time, which Scott also directed
(moving its era from the edgy late 1930s to the innocent-seeming
years before World War I), is a splendid vehicle for the winsome
tricks of a veteran cast. Teresa Wright, whose 1942 Oscar for
Mrs. Miniver makes Scott's 1970 award for Patton seem recent,
flutters and flusters as the grandmother. Bette Henritze
whinnies and hectors as an interfering aunt. Conrad Bain
wheedles and soothes as the family doctor. In Scott's wiliest
staging, he, Bain, and George DiCenzo test whether death has
been suspended by circling around a poisoned housefly like
slow-motion Marx Brothers. No one gets more laughs than Nathan
Lane as Mr. Brink, slowly igniting as his timetable is thwarted.
</p>
<p> The inescapable problem is the play's candy-box
presentation of mortal agony as a peaceful, painless passing
into a warm yellow light, followed by a resumption for eternity
of one's former games and rituals. Save for about three minutes
of medical candor, this is a vapid insult to anyone struggling
with the real problem of mortality. Perhaps Scott, 64, finds
this inanity reassuring. But what a pity to waste his gifts on
piffle.
</p>
</body></article>
</text>