The New Year at the Theatres.
After establishing “Lights Out” as a success at the Waldorf Theatre, Mr.
H. B. Irving proceeded early in the New Year to produce “The Jury of
Fate” at the Shaftesbury Theatre, the house, by the way, in which Mr.
McLellan’s first great success was first seen in London, “The Belle of
New York.”
“The Jury of Fate” is a lurid story told in seven tableaux, and its most
obvious disability is that since each tableaux must of necessity be
abbreviated, the story can only be told in a spasmodic series of
impressions, and the players have but a poor chance of getting a hold of
their audience. The theme of the play is undoubtedly a good one, that of
the man who at the early end of a misspent career prays of the messenger
of Death that he may be allowed to live another life on earth in which
he shall atone for his follies and wickedness, and so gain a favourable
verdict from “The Jury of Fate.”
This is the first tableau, and the second tableau shows us twenty-five
years later René Delorme at his old game again, a voluptuary with a
pretty talent for drinking, who loses no time in snatching from a most
admirable young worker his affianced bride, the fair Yvonne.
A year later we find René with his wife in the garden of an inn near
Paris; he has by this time become a successful playwright, an unfaithful
husband, and an industrious drunkard, and after an unfriendly
conversation with his wife, he proceeds to inaugurate an intrigue with
the mistress of a friend of his, who is unfortunately lunching at the
same inn.
This lady appears as a kind of Public Prosecutor of Fate, and openly
sets to work to ruin and destroy the too impressionable René, and we are
not surprised to find a year later in the dining-room of René’s house
that her unkindly influence has materially assisted the _fine champagne_
in making a mess of the promising playwright.
This fourth tableau is perhaps the strongest of all, and it concludes
with René, deserted by his friends and his wife, the author of a
miserable failure just produced, confronted in his solitude by the
ghostly figure of the stranger—Death.
Two years later we find René, at a low café in Paris, urging a mob of
his discontented workmen to deeds of anarchy and pillage, and not even
the dignified advice of David Martine, the workman of tableau two, and
the respected and successful employer of labour in the subsequent
tableaux, can save the degenerate from his degeneracy; for upon that
self-same night René leads a disorderly attack upon the Martine
Bridgeworks, and finding, as needs he must, his wife on the premises,
most innocently conversing with Martine, a pistol shot makes him the
murderer of his wife, according to the dictum, that “All men kill the
thing they love.”
By this time “The Jury of Fate” have agreed upon their verdict, and it
only remains for René to lose himself in a wood, accompanied only by a
thunderstorm of portentous severity and ominous dread. To him arrives
the Stranger with the sword, and, with only an unconvincing plea in
mitigation of sentence, René falls prostrate before a very much
misplaced crucifix, having done far more harm in his second effort than
was the case in his previous conviction.
The part of René is in the very capable hands of Mr. H. B. Irving, and
he plays it for all it is worth.
Another piece of fine acting is that of Mr. Matheson Lang, in the double
part of Pierre and David Martine.
Miss Lillah McCarthy, whose work at the Court Theatre has given us so
much pleasure, is excellent as Therese, the courtesan who causes René so
much worry, and the part of the injured and slaughtered wife is well
played by Miss Crystal Herne, a recruit from America.
The play is extremely well put on, and admirably acted, whilst the
thunder and lightning and other meteorological effects are terrible in
their perpetual and impressive reality.
At the Garrick Theatre, Mr. Arthur Bouchier had the courage to stem the
prosperous tide of “The Walls of Jericho,” in order to produce “The
Merchant of Venice” and the fine performances of himself as Shylock and
Miss Violet Vanbrugh as Portia, with the environment of a beautiful
production, have filled the Garrick for well over a hundred
performances.
In our opinion Shylock is quite one of the best things Mr. Bouchier has
done, most convincing in its masterly restraint and complex simplicity.
And too much praise cannot be given to Miss Vanbrugh who is at her best
in the trial scene, when the charm of her voice is heard to the utmost
advantage. That experienced actor, Mr. Norman Forbes, affords a splendid
study of Launcelot Gobbo, and is well supported by Mr. O. B. Clarence as
Old Gobbo.
A happy memory of the early days of the O.U.D.C. is afforded by the fact
that Mr. Alan Mackinnon supervised this production, and this carries our
thoughts back to 1886, when Mr. Bouchier first dealt with Shylock at the
then new theatre at Oxford.
The Vedrenne-Barker management at the Court Theatre continues to enjoy
its well-earned prosperity. The plays are interesting and exceptionally
well acted, and at present the name of Mr. Bernard Shaw is one to
conjure with.
“Major Barbara” is his latest achievement, and if one confesses to a
feeling of disappointment, the probable reason for it is that Mr. Shaw
has led us to expect so much from him in the way of quality.
Mr. Shaw confesses in the prelude to one of his books, that by one of
those little ironies of life which sometimes beset even such clever
people as himself, he has only won the right to be listened to by the
public after the vein of originality which was once so rich within him
has been hopelessly worked out. Of the truth of this, there is in his
new play, “Major Barbara,” very conspicuous evidence. The changes are
once more rung upon the old theme which served Mr. Shaw in “Widower’s
Houses,” and to a certain extent also in “Mrs. Warren’s Profession.” In
“Widower’s Houses,” it is a man whose belief in his own honesty and
usefulness is shattered by the sudden discovery that his income comes
from a polluted source; in “Major Barbara,” the central figure, a woman,
is by very much the same process suddenly thrust, as it were, into a
moral _cul-de-sac_; that is to say, she is offered a sum of five
thousand pounds which she would give her very soul to take, in order to
save the lives of hundreds of starving folk, and at the same moment
discovers that this money has been made by industries which cause the
very starvation she is attempting to remedy. It is this situation which
Mr. Shaw considers strong enough to justify him in putting into his
heroine’s mouth some of the most sacred words which have ever been
uttered—and it is at any rate a satisfaction to feel that his critics
have for once drawn Mr. Shaw into the honest confession that he did
himself consider that he had here created a serious and tragic
situation. To be quite frank, there cannot be the faintest question but
that the verdict in this little dispute must be against Mr. Shaw and
with his critics. Mr. Shaw’s idea of a play seems to be that you can
dive from the burlesque tosh of “Cholly” from the pantomime of the Greek
Professor beating his drum straight into the sublimest realms of
tragedy, much as a man can go straight out of the hot rooms into the
plunge at a Turkish bath; but, as Dr. Johnson said of some contemporary
writer who was at the moment attracting attention, “Sir, it does not do
to be odd; you will not be read for long.”
At the Haymarket Theatre Mr. Charles Hawtrey is as delightfully vague as
ever in “The Indecision of Mr. Kingsbury,” a play adapted from the
French by Mr. Cosmo Gordon Lennox. Mr. Hawtrey is well supported by the
author who plays the part of a full-blooded and voluble Frenchman; by
Miss Fanny Brough as a distressed dowager; and Miss Nina Boucicault as a
much maligned widow, who wins the hand of the undecided Mr. Kingsbury.
The story is just strong enough to carry four acts, and there is plenty
of fun in it, so that we may credit Mr. Cosmo Gordon Lennox with yet
another success.
At the Imperial Theatre Mr. Lewis Waller has replaced “The Perfect
Lover” by “The Harlequin King,” a costume play of mediæval romance, in
which Harlequin, having in a fit of jealousy killed the heir apparent,
proceeds immediately to occupy the throne.
It is a very confiding court in this eccentric kingdom, and the only
person who discovers the imposture is a blind old lady, the Queen
Mother, who at once finds it out, but for the good of the country
consents to crown the Harlequin. As a reigning monarch Harlequin cuts a
poor enough figure, and to us it is a great relief when in due course
the time comes for him, in order to save his skin, to confess his fraud,
and fly the country. Mr. Lewis Waller does the best that can be done for
the wretched Harlequin, and Miss Millard is good as Columbina, but
perhaps the best performance of all is that of Miss Mary Rorke as the
blind Queen: as an example of quiet dignity and perfect elocution her
performance is most valuable.
We could wish that Mr. Waller would once more produce a really good
play; he and his company are well qualified to do full justice to a good
play, and it seems a thousand pities that their abilities and enthusiasm
should be devoted to nothing better than the “Perfect Lover” and this
most recent production which, by the way, is styled “A Masquerade in
four acts, by Rudolf Lothar, adapted by Louis N. Parker and Selwyn
Brinton.”
The opening of the new Aldwych Theatre fitly enough signalised the
return to London of Miss Ellaline Terriss and Mr. Seymour Hicks, after
their triumphant tour in the provinces. “Bluebell in Fairyland,” that
very successful Christmas piece which, two or three years ago, ran well
into the late summer months, was the play selected for the opening, on
December 23rd, of Mr. Hicks’ beautiful new playhouse. With the advantage
of a large stage and every latest modern appliance, Mr. Hicks has been
able to amplify and develop his production to a degree which was
impossible at the Vaudeville Theatre. There are some two hundred
performers engaged in this musical dream play, which is in two acts, of
six and seven scenes respectively.
Miss Ellaline Terriss is Bluebell, as charming as ever, and one can
utter no higher praise than that.
Mr. Seymour Hicks again doubles the parts of Dicky, the Shoeblack, and
the Sleepy King, and infuses marvellous vitality into all that he does,
even into the snores and grotesque clumsinesses of the Sleepy King.
There are many new-comers, prominent among them being Miss Sydney
Fairbrother and Miss Maude Darrell, whilst one of the hits of the
entertainment is the song of Miss Barbara Deane, in which she reproduces
popular comic songs of the day with the method of a ballad-singer. Miss
Barbara Deane has a charming voice, and as she has youth on her side,
she should have a very distinguished future before her. Miss Dorothy
Frostick—now almost “a grown-up”—and Miss Topsy Linden do some pretty
dancing.
It was a marvellous _tour de force_ on the part of Mr. Seymour Hicks,
after less than a fortnight for rehearsal, and with no dress rehearsal
at all, to have presented such a gigantic production, without a hitch,
upon the very night which he had promised some months ago.
“Bluebell” is a delightful play, and the Aldwych is a beautiful theatre,
and if Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Hicks gain half the success which they
deserve, they should have a signal triumph.
At the Royalty Theatre, that delightful artiste, Mme. Réjane and M. De
Ferandy have been giving a series of French plays, prominent among them
being “Les Affaires sont les Affaires,” which Mr. Beerbohm Tree has
shown us under the title of “Business is Business,” and “Décoré,” the
amusing comedy of M. H. Meilhac.
For Christmas Mr. Beerbohm Tree deserted the popular “Oliver Twist,” and
put up a revival of “The Tempest,” followed in January by “Twelfth
Night,” which is to be supplanted, shortly before these lines attain the
dignity of print, by one of the colossal productions for which His
Majesty’s Theatre has become so renowned. Probably by the time these
lines are read the version of “Nero,” by Mr. Stephen Phillips, will be
the talk of the town.