Writer and director Garson Kanin, whose gimlet-eyed satire Born Yesterday is currently in revival at Broadway's Cort Theatre, once said of Frank Capra, "I'd rather be Capra than God, if there is a Capra." You can definitely see his admiration for the great social-minded director reflected in Born Yesterday, which was a huge hit when it debuted in 1946 starring comedian Judy Holliday as Billie Dawn, the airheaded arm candy of corrupt tycoon Harry Brock. Like Capra's body of work, Born Yesterday walks a fine line between screwball comedy and earnest sermonizing.
The play takes place in the post-war ebullience of Washington, D.C., where Brock has settled into a lavish hotel suite, the headquarters for his mission to stop the government from regulating his shady scrap metal empire. But when Billie's chattering idiocy embarrasses him in D.C. society, he makes the mistake of hiring an idealistic journalist, Paul Verrall, to educate her. In the process, Billie's slumbering curiosity is unexpectedly awakened, and she starts asking pesky questions about Brock's machinations. She also falls for the noble Paul, who sees Washington's corruption personified in Brock.
It's not a particularly groundbreaking play: some of the characterizations are little more than broad caricatures, and some of the jokes fall flat with an old-timey thud. But director Doug Hughes keeps this colorful revival flying like the wind, which makes it easy to overlook the shortcomings. Hughes is hindered, however, by the semi-celebrity casting of Jim Belushi, who seems theatrically rusty in the role of the thuggish Brock, his voice hoarse and his lines occasionally jumbled on the night I attended. To his credit, Belushi is absolutely convincing when Brock is at his most monstrous, and he brings a fearsome authenticity to Born Yesterday's chilling descent into domestic violence.
The rest of the cast is solid or better; Frank Wood (who was excellent in last year's Clybourne Park) stands out as Brock's sleazy attorney, and Robert Sean Leonard is reliably likable as the journalist who tutors Billie on everything from Thomas Paine to Napoleon. But the real attraction here is Nina Arianda (Venus in Fur), a zany blonde pistol making her Broadway debut as Billie. Arianda's smart and nuanced performance begins as a hilarious homage to the classic bubble-head Broadway chorus girl archetype and evolves into something surprising: a multi-dimensional patriot who chooses principles over Brock's gilded birdcage. She never strains credulity by forgetting her chorine roots—as written, Billie always knows how much she doesn't know—but Arianda's portrayal of Billie's ethical and intellectual awakening is utterly delightful.
