This play about now somewhat unknown William Gillette was an unexpected treat...a comic, literate murder mystery with bits of Sherlock Holmes and Shakespeare tossed about like so much flotsam and jetsam.
In Act I, Gillette is in his mansion on the Connecticut river--filled with Gillette’s patented inventions: remote control, speaker phone, tape recording in the rooms (this is 1939 but Pres. Nixon may have appreciated Gillette’s contributions.). He strides the stage, arm in a sling, and exaggeratingly quotes from who else but supposedly humb-backed Richard III.
Gillette hosts a Christmas eve party for his fellow actors. His friend Clark Gable wasn’t there---only those actors from Gillette’s recent Sherlockian staging. There, someone in the audience had shot and wounded him.
The guests are convinced that Gillette is filled with delusions that he is either as capable as Sherlock Holmes or is Sherlock Holmes. And, like Gillette, they’re also attuned to the view Shakespearean. They are each of them inveterate Bardolators who simmers throughout this play. At the outset, the actor/guests search through Gillette’s library and find “the game’s afoot” quote in Henry V, Act 3, Scene 1. What game is afoot? a rocking, roisterous murder... that predictably occurs in the nighttime (and yes, there is a dog in the house).
In Act II, a remarkable Inspector, a woman of a certain age (the actress who plays it chews up the scenery) arrives to investigate the murder of a spiteful (and blowsy blonde) theater critic. The Inspector is a marvel who competes with Gillette as detective and with her own display of who spakes Shakespeare with more brio.
Gillette was a classical actor. Shakespearean quotes were natural to him and to the actors (and Inspector) at the mansion...a rueful contrast to the veritable dreck crossing our screen these days. You can read more about William Gillette in Henry Zecher’s 2011 book, William Gillette: America’s Sherlock Holmes.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.