 ARCHY & MEHITABEL
(Music by George Kleinsinger: Book by Joe Darion and Mel Brooks: Lyrics
by Joe Darion: Based on stories by Don Marquis: Produced on Broadway as
Shinbone Alley)
Broadway Theatre 13 April 1957 (49 perfs)
Synopsis
The cartoon characters of Archy, the prim and proper cockroach, and
his idol the hedonistic alley cat, Mehitabel, whom Archy is trying to
reform, are the main protagonists in this cool, jazz look at the seamier
side of the big city.
STORY
ACT ONE
The place and time are arbitrary. It's here and now or there and then,
but definitely the wrong side of the tracks in a big town. There's a
set. Sort of. That comes and goes. Maybe an office. Maybe an alley. And
the cast? Cats! An invisible newsman-narrator. A cockroach. And several
ladybirds thrown in for good measure. And the point of view? Down here.
Way down here ... as seen through the eyes of the somewhat vertically
challenged "Archy," the rather shy and sensitive cockroach.
The desk, the chair, the telephone, the typewriter are enormous ... as
though we were dropped into a newspaper office the size of Mount Rushmore.
The voice-over describes the place in the first song and we see little
Archy dancing from key to key on the enormous typewriter keyboard. (Surely,
somewhere in the Warner Brothers' archives there's a Busby Berkeley sequence
we can consult for reference.)
Archy and the newspaperman exchange notes. Archy addresses him as "boss" and
the voice-over journalist, with respect and appreciation, encourages
his little correspondent to leave samples of his literary output (in
exchange for a few apple peelings left in the waste paper basket) in
the free verse tales that the tiny insect "hops out" on the
typewriter keys - all in lower case, mind you, since Archy or "archy" finds
it impossible to manipulate the cap and the letter keys simultaneously.
What is left in the newsman's typewriter each morning is the saga of
the sensitive Archy and his sensual friend Mehitabel, the disreputable
alley cat.
The first episode sets the scene in Shinbone Alley where Mehitabel and
her feline friends are throwing a party, dancing among the rubbish bins
and cardboard boxes, singing about their freewheeling life style. Mehitabel
admits she's had her ups and downs, but she's still game; a plucky puss
is she.
The sound of police sirens breaks up the party and the cats scatter.
But with a lilting grin, despite her occasional limp and her tattered
fur, Mehitabel sings her philosophy. In the
midst of the song, Archy wonders if she might not be a bit too toujours
gai for her own good but she responds defending her life style.
Next we see Archy diligently at work on the typewriter keys pouring
out his heart on such issues as philosophy, politics, ethics, and "The
Bragging Flea," but his major concern is Mehitabel who admits she's
in love again. "Not again" cries Archy as Big Bill, the tom
cat, as tough as they come, and obviously the focus of Mehitabel's affection,
arrives on the scene and gives the gentle poet-cockroach a hard time.
If a cat could bark, Big Bill would bark. But Mehitabel comes to Archy's
rescue as Big Bill merely tosses the little critter aside and warns him
to keep his distance. His song lists the delights of sexually
compulsive cat life on the wild side!
Archy leaves the newspaperman a note to the effect that he tried his
best to make a respectable cat out of Mehitabel but has failed miserably.
To get his mind off her, he composes the "Ballad of Broadway, The
Lightning Bug" but the newsman knows Archy's thoughts are still
on Mehitabel. No sooner has she run off than she's back in Shinbone Alley,
and Archy sings out the joyous news. A rather bitter and bedraggled Mehitabel,
jilted by Big Bill, is offered consolation by Archy who now is determined
to reform the naughty cat.
But she's in no mood for reform. She's in the mood for a song and dance,
so they join forces with "Flotsam And Jetsam." Mehitabel outlines
her life history in the song, a tale of woe, and Archy describes how
unfortunate it is to be an insect at the bottom of the food chain, "lower
than the lowly worms," where the only things lower are germs. Both
admit they are just drifting and dreaming of something better than what
they've got. Meanwhile at least they have each other.
Perhaps determined to reform, Mehitabel decides to get herself a respectable
position as a housecat. Archy is overjoyed just as the debonair old tomcat
Tyrone T. Tattersall, a revered figure of the theatre, saunters by, warming
up his vocal chords with a bit of "me, me, me... me-ow." Tyrone's
gallantry turns Mehitabel into a smitten kitten, all blushes and giggles,
and he promises to make her a star. Archy attempts to block the seduction
- getting a whiff of Mehitabel's old bent toward decadence - but Tyrone
is brimming with charm, and she buys it hook, line and sinker. Off they
go.
Forlorn, the little cockroach confides again in the "boss," typing
out "Archy's Suicide Song" in which, to his frustration, the
heavy-hearted but lightweight bug relates his attempt to leap out the
window of the sixth floor, only to find himself floating up weightlessly
to the eighth.
Meanwhile the thespian Tyrone endeavours to turn Mehitabel into a legitimate
actress, but all is not going well. She gives him "fish and affection," but
talent? No! To salve his wounded pride, he sings "The Actor Cat," recalling
his glory days in the theatre when, in a pinch, he was called upon to
play a bloodhound, and on another occasion, coming to an actor's rescue,
once played a beard.
Next comes the Mehitabel dramatic lesson with readings from Shakespeare
leading into her song reciting "Romeo, Romeo" to a jazz beat
as the eminent Shakespearean scholar Tyrone, in horror, abandons her
on the spot. Her reaction: "And to think... I gave that big bum
the best two weeks of my life!"
ACT TWO
The voice of the newspaperman brings us up-to-date. Tyrone has gone
on the road to fame and misfortune, and Mehitabel is back to her solo
act among the alley cats downtown. But Archy tries to turn a deaf ear
and declares he's through with that wayward puss and resorts to his literary
pursuits to sublimate. And, of course, true to form, considers suicide
again. Then he happens to read an item in the society column that Mehitabel
is a mother. Kittens! Six! Archy, traumatized, rushes out in search of
her.
The lady cats of the neighbourhood caterwaul a lullaby to the little
ones, but Mehitabel is not a joyful mother. The kittens will interfere
with her career. Archy arrives at the ash can nursery just as it's started
to rain and water is collecting in the can. Archy pleads with Mehitabel
to save the little things from drowning, but she turns a deaf ear. He
continues pleading until she finally relents and rescues the brood. She
softens ... a bit (sentimentality is not in Mehitabel's gene pool) and
decides to go straight and answer a want ad for a house cat in the high
rent district. She knocks at an enormous door and is ushered in for an
interview.
Weeks go by. Back at the newspaper office Archy paces nervously. No
mail. No word from Mehitabel.
The scene shifts to an indolent Mehitabel stretched out on a bear skin
rug, a ribbon about her neck, sipping cream through a straw... but bored.
The household that keeps the cat sings a "Pretty Kitty" ditty
but Mehitabel treats all the attention with disdain.
Archy, missing her painfully, pays her a visit, gaining entrance through
a keyhole. She levels her complaints about her luxurious but apathetic
life, playing with a ball, rolling on a rug, and blames Archy for getting
her into this situation. She runs him out then sings guiltily about mistreating
him when she knows he's the best friend she ever had. Archy picks up
the song walking alone along the lonely streets, regretting that the
fire that once lit up her eyes has diminished in her current, comfortable
and secure situation.
Back at the newsroom, the reporter is shocked to discover Archy there
drinking. The little cockroach is drunk and staggers out of the press
room and in a stupor encounters some ladybirds of the evening who sing
the "Lady Bug Song," trying to seduce him and lure him into
their den of iniquity. In his inebriated state, his pockets are duly
emptied by the ladybirds during the course of a frolicsome dance. But
all they discover are bits of verse.
The big thug, Big Bill, appears again on the scene and, hovering over
a collapsed Archy, considers the fact that the little fellow really loves
Mehitabel and proceeds to roar with laughter.
Archy is back at the newsroom. ‘How did he get there?’ he
asks his writer-pal, ‘Did she bring him back?’
The newspaperman recognises a new depth in Archy's writing now, a sadder
but wiser cockroach who sings the "Song Of The Moth," a haunting
tale of one who could not resist the natural attraction of the flame
and quotes variations on Alfred Lord Tennyson's "'Tis better to
have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all." And Archy
recognises that the moth reminds him of Mehitabel, not the pampered housebound
pet she is now, but the Mehitabel of the streets, the toujours
gai Mehitabel.
Faintly, her voice is carried on the downtown breeze, first from a distance,
then closer, and, yes! she's back declaring "It's cheerio, my dear-i-o,
there's life in me yet!" All her feline friends welcome her back
to the alley in a "Finale" as Archy (back in the newsroom)
looks on at the joyful reunion. And Archy sees now that Mehitabel has
to be what she has to be, and that happens to be wonderful. Curtain.
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