Controversy, a first-time director and combustible stars: Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? turns 50
It was the film that helped topple the archaic production code that restricted use of foul language on screen, but making it his way was quite a fight for debutant director Mike Nichols
Released on Blu-ray in May by Warner Archive, the 1966 film was no sure thing as it made its way from stage to screen. An emotional horror story, both the play and the film triggered controversy and challenged the status quo.
The play, marking Albee’s Broadway debut, opened October 13, 1962, at the Billy Rose Theatre, just as the Cuban missile crisis was unfolding. The action takes place on a New England college campus in the home of middle-aged history professor George and his fiery wife, Martha, as they “entertain” – devour is more like it – a younger couple into the wee hours of the night.
Critics showered the production with praise, but some mainstream reviewers were shocked by the profanity and sexual shenanigans, stopping short of delivering full raves. John Carter of The New York Daily News described the play as “three and a half hours long, four characters wide, and cesspool deep,” accusing Albee of lacking self-judgment.
Albee’s play burnished its anti-establishment credentials when it was denied a Pulitzer Prize after the awards’ advisory board overruled the drama jury that recommended it, objecting to the play’s profanity and sexual themes. Despite its success, the wordy tragicomedy did not scream out for a film adaptation. The brutal dialogue and controversial tone were unimaginable onscreen in an era when Hollywood productions still largely reflected the idealised vision of the studios’ founders. The Los Angeles Times’ Charles Champlin compared the idea to “making a U-turn on a freeway at night”.
Noted screenwriter Ernest Lehman resisted seeing the Broadway production after reading the script and thinking it was “too much.” However, when Lehman eventually saw the play, he was shattered. His agent, Abe Lastfogel, who also represented Albee, suggested Lehman speak to Jack Warner, the last mogul still running a major studio.