PLAYS RUNNING IN LONDON

Hawke's Bay Herald-Tribune, Issue 60, 27 March 1937, Page 11

PLAYS RUNNING IN LONDON

Bergner is one of tbe really great artists of our day — of tbat tbere is no question— and it is necessary to say so because tbe Englisb version of "Dreaming Lips" (unhappy title) tends to obscure mucb of ber genius, writes Artbur Hirst in New Zealand News. Tbe tragedy is concerned with a highly-strung woman wbo loves ber busband deeply, witb a wife's love and a woman's pity, and at tbe same time falls passionately in love witb anotber man. H1 and weak, distracted by divided. loyalty, sbe cuts tbe gordian knot and ends ber life — but her dilemma must be made credible by the acting of tbe two men, and because tbe busband is represented as a selfisb egoist wbo takes ber for grantod, and because tbe appeal -to ber pity is insuffiently stressed, tbere is a lack of logic about tbe story wbicb no histrionic taient can atone for. But watcb ber faee, ber every movement, wben sbe visits Vayo's room, or wben she bears bis voice in the telepbone on bis retufn to London — observe ber power to convey every sbade of subtle emotion, and bow tbe bead. Alas! sbe is furtber bandicapped by bad photography. Why must Englisb tecbnicians always be content witb "near enough"? I am sure our dictionaries contain tbe word "thorough" — but it may well become obsolete for lack of use. Beferring to "TJncle Vanya" at tbe Westminster Tbeatre — I bave now seen the present rpoduction, and declare tbat (always excepting "Hamlet") it is tbe biggest tbing, on tbe stage, that London bas to offer to-day. Harcourt Williams and Alexis France, in particular, suggest tbe unspeakabie in a manner worthy of tbe play; Cecil Trouncer might be a sbade less matter-of-fact, moro visionary and tinged with grey; but Tebecbov's ability to delve beneath tbe surface of events and expose tbe living souls of buman beings, and bis divinely tender sympathy witb them, are fully revealed and tbey constitute an art as permanent as tbat of Shakespeare. "Hamlet," at tbe. "Old Vic," is mercifully free from tbe lavish settings of many producers, and apprqximates more to tbe stage of tbe autbor's day, wben acting was acting and language was a Teal vebicle of power — and it is good to bave all tbe play. It does not seem long, tbanks to tbe spirit infusod into it by Olivier's work and by Guthrie 's production. Olivier, indeed, fulfils Hazlitt's dictum tbat "tbere sbould be as mucb of tbe gentleman and scbolarinfused into Hamlet 's part. A pensive air of sadness should sit reluctantly upon bis brow, but no appearance of fixed or sullen gloom." ' Tbis is, indeed, an experience to oberisb all one's life. "Tbe Orchard Walls," by Merton Hodge, might bave bad two alternative titles, i.e., "Tripes a la mode de Budapest," or "Twenty cbaracters in searcb of a plot." But it is too late now, since tbe play lived only four days in spite of tbe delightful oxygen pumped into it by tbat inimitable genius "Dr." Artbur Sinclair and bis assistants, Irene Vanbrugh and Valerie Taylor. It was an amusing little thiigr but could never bave lived, being devoid of bone, blood and sinew. Tbe autbor's undoubted gift for fluent and easy dialogue must be used on better material. \