ANTARCTIC FROLICS

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 659, 10 May 1929, Page 9

ANTARCTIC FROLICS

BYRD'S MEN NOW HAVE A THEATRE HILARIOUS SCHOOL FARCE BY RUSSELL OWEN Copyrighted, 1928, by tho “New York Times” company and the St. Louis ‘•PostDispatcli.” All rights for publication reserved throughout the world. Wireless to the “New York Times.” (Received 9.5 a.m.) BAY OF WHALES, Wednesday. Our own little theatre opened last night. There are no cramping conditions to limit ns. We have originated what might he called a polar school of art, in which we cast off stifling conventions and go back to the primitive. What could be more gaily realistic than the dropping of a handful of snow down one’s back. There is about it a sort of rollicking simplicity. Having rather a select audience, we are able to train it, which is a great advantage. They are probably the most intelligent group of things on this whole Continent, now that the penguins are gone. Their minds leap ahead to the ultimate inevitable, so that when in the fervour of emotion one’s lines end, as it were, in the air. From the audience spontaneously there bursts a cry of “Raspberries,” which is their gentle way of showing pleasure. The atmosphere of our little family invariably reflects this unity, with which they react. Let someone forget to close the door, there being a slight difference of 100 degrees of temperature between in here and out, and there comes a yell of “Close that door!” followed by words chosen carefully for emphasis. The meticulous care with which choice language is used is something upon which we insist. A school scene was selected for the first performance, because of its suggestion of refreshing innocence in this decadent civilisation of seals and penguins. The little tots were dressed daintily in canvas which covered most of their figures, although the arm which had escaped washing (as children’s arms sometimes do) here and three escaped concealment. They are well-fed children and quite muscular, and their precocious development was indicated by a beard or two, or perhaps the species of horsehair which adorned their pink cheeks. The little things danced in so prettily in their five-pound ski boots, which, ever so gently put down, shook the house, and sang a touching song as they presented a golden apple to the teacher, a good-natured and obese soul named Alexander, though how a Dutchman got that name is hard to understand.