A Favorite Jeeves and Wooster Episode: “Introduction on Broadway”

The 1990-1993 TV show of Jeeves and Wooster is widely considered to be the best adaptation of P.G. Wodehouse’s original stories to date. It’s also a highly-regarded show on its own right, apart from its status as an adaptation – and with a great script, highly talented actors, the budget for plenty of gorgeous period-accurate 1930s cars and clothing and estates, and full of wonderfully understated and quintessentially British humor, it’s not hard to see why.

Much of the charm and humor of the show arises from the relationship between the eponymous Bertie Wooster and Jeeves, man-about-town and his gentleman’s personal gentleman. While Bertie is un-encumbered with ambition, good-hearted, and not overly-gifted in the brains department, Jeeves is supremely intelligent, unflappable, on top of every situation, yet always outwardly the soul of respectfulness to his employer. The verbal humor in their exchanges together, and the juxtaposition between Bertie’s mode of expression and Jeeves’s, is truly priceless.

“You heard of him [Cyril Bassington-Bassington], Jeeves?”
“I am familiar with the name Bassington-Bassington, sir. There are the Shropshire Bassington-Bassingtons, the Hampshire Bassington-Bassingtons, and, of course, the Kent Bassington-Bassingtons.”
“Ah, so the world’s pretty well stocked-up on Bassington-Bassingtons, then.”
“Tolerably so, sir.”
“No chance of a sudden shortage, I mean, what?”
“Presumably not, sir.”

The third series is often referred to as the point where the show begins to go downhill. While it is true that the episodes begin to become a little more uneven and less uniformly exceptional in this series, to discount the third and fourth series altogether would be to discount some of the best episodes in the show. “Introduction on Broadway,” the third episode of the third series, is one of my personal favorites. I can think of only two complaints against this episode – one is that the accents of the American characters do sound a little fake, and the other is that a certain part of the climax verges a little too much into slapstick for my taste. But those are only minor quibbles with an otherwise excellent episode.

As the episode starts, we see Bertie’s Aunt Agatha, a very forceful personality and one of the main terrors of easy-going Bertie’s existence, packing off young Cyril Bassington-Bassington to stay with Bertie in America (where Bertie is temporarily staying). Cyril is obsessed with the theater, and Aunt Agatha, a good friend of Cyril’s mother, is shocked at this scandalous preoccupation and thinks it best to get him away from the theatrical circles in London. She explains this, and explains that he must be kept away from the theater in America, in the letter of introduction which she gives Cyril to give to Bertie…

…and which Cyril promptly tears up and throws out of the window once on board the steamer.

Meanwhile, Bertie has other issues to attend to in New York. Bertie’s struggling artist friend Corky has come to him for help; Corky has become engaged to charming chorus-girl Muriel Singer, and is trying to find a way to break the news of his engagement to his formidable uncle Alexander Worple, whose allowance Corky depends on. Corky knows that his uncle will not be pleased that he got engaged without his consent, and if Worple decides to break off his financial support, Corky will be forced to give up his (not very profitable) art and enter his uncle’s jute business. And, as Corky defiantly says, “Better death than the jute business.”

After Bertie verifies with Jeeves what jute is (beyond knowing that “it’s something the populace at large is pretty keen on, because Corky’s uncle has made a hefty stack out of it,” Bertie is a little foggy on the details), he goes to meet Worple and attempt to get into his good graces by posing as a fellow jute businessman. He hopes to then be in the position to put in a good word for Corky and Muriel.

This attempt is unsuccessful, and with Jeeves’s help, Plan B is formulated: knowing Worple’s passion for ornithology, a children’s book of birds is to be published under Muriel’s name (though ghost-written by Jeeves, as Muriel couldn’t write a book to save her life), much of the content of which is to be “given over to eulogistic remarks” of Alexander Worple’s books, American Birds and More American Birds. Then, once this has made Worple thoroughly charmed with Muriel, Corky can pretend to “meet” her for the first time and ask his uncle’s permission to marry her.

In the meantime, Cyril Bassington-Bassington arrives in New York and promptly gets arrested, needing to be bailed out by Bertie. He tells Bertie that what he really wants to do in New York is to see lots of shows, which, of course, although Bertie is unaware of it (obviously, Cyril does not tell him), is exactly what Aunt Agatha wanted to prevent.

Cyril (who is simultaneously irritating and almost endearing in his self-importance and dweebiness and starry-eyedness), is overjoyed to land a one-line role in a play of Bertie’s friend George Caffyn…a plot development which produces one of my favorite interchanges in the episode, between Cyril and Bertie:

“I’ve got to relax before I go on! I’ve got to get into character, explore the core of the part.”
“You’ve only got one line.”
“It’s a crucial one, Bertie. I hope I’m not going to be one of those actors who COUNTS their lines!”

Bertie goes along to keep an eye on Cyril as the show tours the United States, and finally returns months later, thoroughly sick of the show and sporting a mustache that does not at all meet with Jeeves’s approval.

Back in New York, Bertie finds that in his long absence the plan of Muriel endearing herself to Corky’s uncle worked so well that Muriel married the uncle, and Corky has now been commissioned to paint a portrait of their new baby. A new problem arises when poor embittered Corky makes his painting of the baby look absolutely horrific – certain to make Worple feel highly insulted, cut off Corky’s allowance, and force him into the dreaded jute business.

At the same time, Aunt Agatha has come to New York in person, and Bertie finally finds out that he was supposed to be keeping Cyril away from the theater all this time. Knowing that Aunt Agatha will automatically blame Bertie if she finds out what has happened, Bertie and Jeeves have to frantically try to prevent Cyril from performing in the show again…as Aunt Agatha plans on attending its first performance on Broadway.

From here everything escalates into more and more Wodehousian chaos. Without spoilers, I may say that while Bertie does not really escape Aunt Agatha’s wrath, nor is blame really distributed very fairly, the episode leaves everybody fairly contented – thanks, as usual, at least in part to Jeeves’s pulling some strings. (It is true that Corky doesn’t “get the girl,” but considering how willing she was to drop him for his rich uncle at a moment’s notice, I think it’s safe to say that it was no great loss.)

And as a perfect ending to the episode: continually throughout the episode we keep hearing about Corky’s painting of the Worple baby and just how horrendous it is (after Corky proudly tells Bertie that he’s painted the soul of the subject, Bertie dubiously replies, “Surely a child of that age wouldn’t have had time to get a soul like that”), but we never get a glimpse of it. Finally, in the very last shot, we get to see it in all its glory. And trust me, it’s worth it.

(You can watch the episode in HD quality for free on Youtube, by the way. Right here.)

This is an entry in A Shroud of Thoughts’ 10th Annual Favourite TV Show Episode Blogathon.