Gerald du Maurier’s Place on the Stage

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 951, 19 April 1930, Page 22

Gerald du Maurier’s Place on the Stage

A CRITICAL ESSAY THE TECHNIQUE OF ACTING The London stage today has no leader. There is no Irving, no Tree, no Bancroft, not even a Charles Hawtrey. But if there were a leader he would probably be Sir Gerald du Maurier, writes a London critic. For du Maurier is the embodiment of the pub f e’s idea of an English gentleman; strong; as silent as one reasonably can be when one has more lines and better lines than anyone else in the company; resolute and resourceful, ready to blow a hole through a villain with an automatic, or crush a woman to his bosom without crumpling a dress shirt or disturbing a single hair. Du Maurier has been called England’s most natural actor. No less an authority than the late A. B. \\ alk-

ley once bestowed on him this high praise, only to ask himself next morning exactly what he meant by it. And, in one sense, Mr. Walkley was right. Du Maurier lias had hundreds of imitators, but no one can walk through a play with quite the same nonchalance

or puli off his theatrical effects with the same superb ease. His art may' not go deep, but it is none the less astonishing. To see him stroll through a Barrie comedy', extracting the maximum of humour with the minimum of apparent effort, “throwing a line away” and yet convulsing an audience, is a liberal education in technique. And within certain strictly defined limits he is equally effective in drama. Those who saw him in “Raffles” still sigh rapturously for the most polished and gentlemanly crook since Robin Hood. But, alas! That was in 1906. That decade or so before the war marked the high-water mark of du Maurier’s career. In addition to his sensational success in “Raffles,” he made a hit in play after play by Barrie. He was the original Captain Hook and Mr. Darling in “Peter Pan” (the play was altered again and again to suit him), and he gave admirable performances in “The Admirable Crichton,” “Little Mary,” "Dear Brutus” (one of the performances of his life) and “What Every Woman Knows.” When one adds that he scored successes, too, in “The Second Mrs. Tanqueray,” “Brewster’s Millions” and “Diplomacy” (in the revival in 1913), there Is no need to emphasise the versatility of his talent or the importance of the part he played in theatrical history between 1900 and 1914. I wish I could say . as much of his record since the war, but the truth is rather melancholy. Fifteen years ago it seemed obvious that he would succeed Tree and Hawtrey as the leader of the English stage. But ask any of the younger generation of playgoers what they know of their Gerald du Maurier, and they will probably make some vague reference to a thick-ear melodrama, “Bulldog Drummond,” and ask you rather doubtfully whether he was not in “The Last of Mrs. Chevney” and “Interference.” He was in these two plays, and in each he had a jolly good part. Yet in “Mrs. Cheyney” the acting honours went to a rising star, Ronaid Squire, while in “Interference” he was outplayed, so many people thought, by Herbert Marshall, of the bowed shoulders and sonorous voice. Still If du Maurier can produce a play in which he is acting, and still preserve the proportions of the characters and the balance of the play, then he is not necessarily the less an actor. And he is certainly a pretty rare producer Sir Gerald du Maurier once said of himself that he has the face of an hereditary criminal. That is an exaggeration, but even his adorers admit that he is not excessively handsome. He has, however, something much better than a regular profile—a strong, intelligent face, a clear, incisive delivery, and poise and personality like no one else’s. He is almost unique among actors in that he resolutely refuses all offers to leave the West End. MartinHarvey, Hicks, Nares, Lang and all the rest may tour the provinces and Dominions; not so du Maurier. He is cordially disliked by many gallery first-nighters for his alleged arrogance •and such phrases as “Ladies and gentlemen—l am referring to those in the stalls.” One can sympathise with him. To resent the abuse of a greasy alien from Poplar whose opinion on no conceivable subject would have the slightest attention once ho got outside the theatre, is surely natural enough. I have read reports of a du Maurier play being booed when actually two or three cries of “rotten!” came from fellows who probably expected a leg-show and whose opinion on the play, if expressed in a letter to a newspaper, would be tossed automatically into the basket.