Music at Midnight, a new play that is fatuous in a wholly undistinguished way, brings the urgings of Moral Re-Armament to the Boston stage. To discuss it at any length would be to pander to its pretentions; it is noted were only because it has come to this country from a even-months' run in London, and because the Wilbur Theatre, for reasons unknown, has seen fit to shelter it. The play concerns itself with the Hungarian revolution of 1956, and with Britain's reaction to it (No doubt his is why the British liked it: the play ignores America, word that crops up in the dialogue only as an antonym for Russia). A young freedom fighter, who calls himself" just a rebel, filled with hate," flies to Britain where is the Prime Minister, holds a small seance with be P.M.'s wife and peacenik son in a secluded corner of the London Zoo, reconciles the son to the father, gives the father a "new purpose and a new statesmanship," and then flies back home to do the same thing of the Chief Marshal of Hungary and His son. All this action takes place within then space of one day. The seance, of course, has turned the trick. "Lay aside all our points of view," the freedom fighter tells his new friends, "and listen to the word of God."
The writing in the divine situation comedy is every it as puerile as it is absurd. The actors, a competent troupe, do their best to cope with the interminable ranting and moral posturing; one of them, Edward Vaddy, is ultimately successful: he plays the role of the young rebel's scoffing uncle, and takes great delight poking fun at all the nonsense which that young man pouts.