Show Business: Who Is the Brute?

It is dark and the door opens. The figure enters. It pauses. It is a man wearing a greatcoat—putts down his collar. He goes to a small oil lamp and lights it. In the light we see Beria’s face . . . The door creaks open . . . Another bundled figure enters the dacha . . . It is Malenkov.

The stage directions spelled out the beginning of a plot— The Plot to Kill Stalin —Playhouse 90’s scheduled return this week to the shrinking world of live TV drama (Thurs. 9:30 p.m., E.D.T., CBS). However the show might turn out, famed Producer Fred Coe (Peter Pan, Two for the Seesaw) had labored hard to make it authentic. On his orders, Writer David Karp and a staff of researchers went to work like aspiring Ph.D.s.

New York Timesman Harrison Salisbury weighed in with voluminous notes about life inside the Kremlin. Samples: “Lighters: not usually used . . . They use safety matches . . . They are very fond of potted palms.” Director Delbert (“Marty”) Mann put together a briefcase full of filing cards, constantly studied their cryptic information: “Stalin, 73, 5 ft. 4 in., weight 150-190. Doodles wolves, girls, castles and word Lenin.”

Role Fitters. It was almost easy to fit actors to the roles as they emerged in the script. Actor Thomas Gomez was a natural; without a bit of special makeup he was Georgy Malenkov’s double. Luther Adler fitted smoothly into place as Molotov, Oscar Homolka as Khrushchev, E. G. Marshall as Beria. Stalin was harder to cast. After considering Laurence Olivier and José Ferrer, Coe decided on Melvyn Douglas, whom he had admired as Clarence Darrow in Inherit the Wind.

Daily the newly formed cast trooped into a screening room in Hollywood’s Television City, watched thousands of feet of newsreels. Douglas took notes when he noticed Stalin slipping a hand into his tunic or holding it behind his back; Gomez grinned and grunted along with Malenkov as he raised a glass at a Kremlin party. Gradually, as rehearsals wore on, the story took shape: the fierce old Georgian, breaking up his Politburo in an effort to divide and maintain control; the purge of Jewish doctors on a trumped-up charge of poisoning the General Staff; Stalin’s assessment, shortly before his fatal stroke, of his possible successors—”Not Malenkov. Malenkov is an intellectual. Intellectuals have never made good leaders. Who is the brute among them? Who is the man most like me?”

Line Stealers. The intrigue and double-dealing became almost a part of the actors’ lives. They began to suspect each other of stealing lines. Eli Wallach, playing Poskrebyshev, Stalin’s secretary, exploded and complained that his part had been cut to nothing. “The audience would have a better show if they watched the rehearsals,” cracked an amused technician. “There’s more drawing aside and whispering here than I’ve ever seen. Probably more than there ever was in the Kremlin.”