“CHUMS.”

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 479, 11 June 1890, Page 5

“CHUMS.”

CHRISTIE MURRAY’S PLAY WELL RECEIVED. THE AUTHOR’S SPEECH. Auckland, June 6. To come straight back from a theatre and write a fair critical notice of the first production of an entirely original play is neither so pleasant nor easy a task as most people would imagine. There are so many things to be considered, so many points to be remembered, and so many questions to be weighed. . . “Chums” is a very hard piece to critic'se. One’s fancy is immediately caught by the beauty of the story. It is one of the tenderest and most pathetic little, things that ever emanated from the brain of a novelist—a very poem in prose. A story that must touch the hearts and move the spirits of all, by reason of its powerful humanity; a story of passionate love contending with truest honour, of childish love and confidence, of tenderest pity and sincerest sympathy. A story of the various passions that move our human hearts, making us good or evil —a story of right triumphing over wrong, and told by one who is a master in the art of story-telling. Such is “Chums.” Most people have read tho plot, so it will not be necessary to recapitulate, but just to tell how the play goes. That it was a success was evident from the bursts of applause that went up every now and then, and culminated at the end of each act, when all the principal actors received calls, and Mr St. Maur and Mr Murray a regular ovation.

The bouse was a very good one, composed of people of literary and artistic baste in Auckland. Sir George Grey sab in front of tho dress circle, and appeared to enjoy the performance immensely. There were a large number of fashionable ladies present, and the house must have looked very smart and gay from the stage. Everythingwent off witha smoothness and regularity quite surprising for a first night. The third act is the weakest, and the first is the better of the other two. It has more verve and go than either of the others, and the dialogue is better split up. Tho faults of the play—which is really a success—are the long-winded conversations which are always occurring between two of the characters. They keep coming to the front in pairs and talking together, leaving a whole crowd of unemployed in the background without even an occasional word to say tor themselves. It is not confined to special characters. First the hero and Mrs Draycott have a turn, and then the villain and his familiar. It was principally when the latter pair were holding long confabulations that the thing became annoying, but it was noticeable right through. There is, too, a tendency to very long asides. Everyone from the bright and piquant slavey (Miss Eily Mayo) up to the hero indulges in them to an inordinate extent. Now, we all know .that asides are necessary in all plays, but it ought to be the aim of every dramatist to make them as short and as far between as possible. In a play we want to be carried away by the realism of things as far as possible. To hear long speeches made in "a loud voice in a small room which only the audience are supposed bo hear while the stage people are supposed to be ignorant of tho words talked into their very ears, is nob conducive to the sensation we ought to feel when we see a really good play, namely, that the theatre has vanished, and we are looking on the actual lives and occurrences of the people we see before us,

Directly one of these long asides begins unrolling itself, the audience have to come bacii to stageland and individually remember, “ I am the only one who can hear all this. ” The shock to the roused imagination is very severe ; in fact, it sometimes kills it, and then some time elapses before the audience lose sight of the fact that these are only people acting, not real men and women, and their troubles only imaginary. Yet this ought to be the normal state ; the audience should forget there are such things as acboro. If, therefore, Mr Murray can see his way to getting rid of many of the longer asides he would enormously improve the play.

But, taking it on a broad basis, it is a pretty little affair, and makes a pleasant play. It cannot be denied, however, that it is slightly lacking in dramatic situation. The first act is by: far the best in this respect. The interest is well sustained throughout. Ned Fellowes (Harry Sc. Maur) and his protege Harold are discovered bo be chums. It may here be said that so long as the boy is on the stage the interest is splendidly sustained, and that the finest thing in the play are their scenes together. Ned is manager for Mr Brocklohursb, in whose house most of the cast are stopping in the first act. Before the commencement of the play the old gentleman has been somewhat unfortunate, for he has married his cook—a most superior person, by the way—and indulged so freely in speculation under the guidance of a villain, that when the curtain goes up he is a ruined man, though the fact doesn’t appear till the act is well advanced. There is also stopping in the house of this foolish old gentleman, whose head is literally very loose upon his shoulders, a charming widow named Mrs Draycott, who is presumably his ward. She is supposed to be poor or rather to have just a handful of money, but ultimately, and for some totally unexplained reason, appears to have a very large sum of money stowed away that nobody knows anything of. Ned is of course in love with the pretty widow, who reciprocates his affection. He has not had the courage to propose, bub makes up his mind to do so soon after the curtain is rung up. His seven-year-old protege has been pluckier, and already asked Mrs Draycott to marry, and she has promised in twenty years’ time. It is a very pretty piece ot acting that passes between Mr St. Maur and Harold—Master Leo Byrne —in this part of the act. The selfimportance of the youngster is capital, and so is Ned’s proud amusement. Roused by the superior courage 9hown by Harold, Mr Ned determines to put his fate to the test at once and get it over. He catches the widow alone, and after an admirably acted show of nervousness, is half launched on his proposal when they are interrupted by Mr and Mrs Brocklehurst rushing in, evidently engaged on a family row of some magnitude. Ned is hurried off by the fussy old gentleman, and Mrs Draycott remains behind to learn that her guardian—or whatever relation he is, no one quite knows—is a ruined man. She thinks she can alter things. “How fortunate,” she exclaims, “I did not touch that money !” What money she doesn’t explain, or how it came into her possession, though particulars would certainly have been of interest to tho audience. While she is away, the villain, Jack Furlong (personated by Mr Kennedy) enters and informs Mrs B. that he will ruin them all unless they help him to marry Lucy Draycott. The others arrive—Ned just in time to catch Honest Jack traducing him, and the others shortly

after. The proposition is renewed and in dignanfcly refused. The villain desires to see the lady herself, and addresses her in brutal language. She takes but little notice, but writes out a cheque for the sum he claims, £12,000, and with a dignified wave of the hand dismisses him. The situation here is distinctly fine, and affords scope for plenty of good acting, which is eagerly taken hold of by the Company. The villain is dumfounded for a minute, but, recollecting himself, refuses the cheque and informs them that the house is already his property, and orders them to clear out immediatel He swears vengeance in the good old-fashioned way. and disappears with his man; an odious little Scotchman, a good part terribly overdone by Mr Charles Hill. Ned, poor chap, realises that his dream is over. Mr St. Maur portrays the character to the life. He makes Ned a true honest English gentleman, like Tennyson's “own ideal knight who reverenced his conscience os his king.” As the truth suddenly breaks on him that the woman he loves is not poor but very rich, and therefore far above a poor penniless stock driver and station manager, his whole demeanour changes. The lines in his face grow long, and a look of resigned and manly suffering is portrayed in his face. She, too, instantaneously realises what she has done in relieving her guardian that she has taken away all her peace of mind. He will never tell her now how he loves her. It is a fine and effective scene, and one for which the author deserves all credit for thinking out and the actors for so capably carrying through. The good-bye between the two hearts, breaking for one another, is a splendid piece of human feeling beautifully expressed. Mr St. Maur's acting, when he comes back after the door has closed on her and all he cares for in life, is beyond praise. Ho walks about in an agony of grief and finally flings himself down in a chair, while the tears that xoill come trickle down his face. Now is the little chum’s chance. Ned has cried out in his agony, “1 have lost her, lost her.” The little fellow affectionately puts his arm rout'd the stricken man’s neck and asks what he has lost, and discovers he is crying. There is a beautiful little scene between the two. Harold, not knowing the pain he is inflicting, says that he will give up Lucy to Ned. “You may have her, Ned, and we’ll all live together.” The natural acting at this point carried away the whole house, and most people felt choky when the curtain slowly descended on the pair who were, in Harold’s words, to bo “Chums” whatever happens. The applause at the end of this first act was most vociferous, and several bouquets were thrown to Miss Seymour and Master Byrne. There were loud cries for the author, and when Mr Murray presented himself he received a perfect ovation.

The second act is chiefly dependent on the scene painter for its success. The speeches are lengthily spun out, and the interest is apt to flag.” The pruning knife will have to be used unsparingly. Ned has taken to gold-digging out in the Otago bush. Harold is with him, and, when the audience discovor them, they are about to give a picnic to their old friends who live on a station some five miles away. The villain and his familiar having got bushed, happen to arrive just as the others are expected. Jack Furlong is still brooding over Ilia hate of Ned, and thoroughly delighted when Sandy Phar, the despicable creature he calls his servant, discloses a plan by which he may be revenged. This is the slowest part in the whole piece. Sandy is not necessary to the thing at all, as a matter of fact, but he is an amusing character and therefore welcome, bub there is too much of him. His speeches are too long-winded, and when he is explaining the plan to unload the apparently worthless Cheat Expectation stock onto Fellowes he is downright tedious. All his long rigmarole is terribly overdone and prosy, and might, with advantage, be cub down by three-quarters. There is no reason for him really, as has been said before. It would have been just as well to make the idea of the diabolical revenge strike Furlong himself in the first place. The play drags, too, through the long conversation that Lucy and Ned have while the others are picmcing. It is beautifully worded and would be splendid in a novel, but that is just where the mischief lies, it is far too booky. There is too much of the novelist and toolibble of bheplay wrighbabout it. The picnic party in the background look awkward and unreal, without a word to say. Some comic business between Minty and her lover Bob might with advantage be introduced, and would not interfere with the hero and heroine in the slightest. There is no sparkle in the dialogue. It is the finished, polished writing of the accomplished story-teller—and the consequence is that people who literally talk like books are apt to become dull. The overhearing of the conversation between the villains by Harold is the climax of the second act, and it cannot be said to be a strong one. Almost without doubt, however, many of the faults of this kind will be soon altered by the author. He himself said a 3 much after the performance. The third act is better, but does not equal the first. There is a lack of situation about it that with the materials at hand might be easily altered. Sandy Phar too has a long speech which is of no particular consequence, and might be dispensed with. The news arrives of the ruin, through the dropping in price of the shares which the villain Furlong has handed over to Mrs Draycott. She gets out into the garden bo think it over and comes to the conclusion that she is glad she is ruined because Ned will now propose. Her distress when Dr. Wentworth - who was one of the picnic party, by the way arrives with the news that the reported fall was a ruse on the part of the directors, that she is richer than ever, and that Jack Furlong is hoist with his own petard, was't most amusing. The proposal which follows; Ned still believing her to be poor, was most admirably done. Both actor and actress were admirable. It was the most natural looking affair possible. The return of Furlong, his angerandhis attempt to kill Fellowes are good situations well managed, but the way in which the little chum saves Ned by jumping off the balcony into his arms is rather strained. It is not explained either that the lad had a habit of climbing up there (on to a tin roof by the way), and it strikes one rather that he has gone up for the purpose. The ending of the play is a return to the true artistic merit of the first act, which appears to have been very much more carefullv thought out thap the others.

Little Leo Byrne certainly deserves the highest praise that can be given. His acting of Harold was superb. He moved about the stage in a fine manly little way, quite a child, and yet a most finished actor. He was so natural, there was none of theobiection&ble infant prodigy ism about him. The play was to a very great extent in his hands—of that there is no doubt, and he is entitled to a large share of the honour of its success. Mr Murray will be fortunate if he gels as good an actor to take the part at Home when the play is produced in London. . , i Of the acting of Mr St. Maur there is ' nothing but praise. He made the part of

Ned as little Leo Byrne did that of Harold. We have never seen a child play better all through a long and trying part than did this little fellow. He carried all hearts, and was as responsible as anyone for the enthusiastic reception accorded to the play. Those who have seen Mr St. Maur in his various roles can imagine what a splendid character he made out of Ned Fellowes, the strong honourable man so deeply and truly in love. He did nob act the character, he lived it. Miss Florence Seymour had a good chance for the display of her high histrionic abilities in the character of Mrs Draycott, and she took full advantage of it. was a “quiet” partrighbthrough, butevery linoand expression she used'told. Her rendition of the part was most excellent. Miss Eily Mayo scored a decided success as Araminta, the sprightly servant, and imparted an amount of dash and go to several of the duller scenes which would have been sadly missed. Mr and Mrs Brocldehurst, supported respectively by Mr Greville and Miss G. Smithson, had not much to do, but what little they had they did fairly well. Mr Duff made a rather stiff and formal Dr. Wentworth.

Mr Charles Berkeley invested a lot of fun into the small part of Bob and made the most of every line. Mr Kenneey had a good part as Jack Fuilong, but he rather overdoes the roughness at times. Nevertheless his rendering of the part was a good one, taken as a whole.

Sandy Phar might be a very, amusing character, but in Mr Hill’s hands it became almost boo much of a burlesque. Ibwas overdone.

Of the staging of the piece it is impossible to speak too highly. It was really excellent. The bush scene with the waterfall, tent, and litter of gum bark was as picturesque a setting as has ever been seen in Auckland. Mr Neville Thornton took a call for it, but Mr Asbton, the stage mechanist, to whom a great part of the praise was due, remained in the background. Mr Murray received such an ovation after the last act that he felt constrained to return thanks. He said : I believe I am known to some of you as a man with a craze. I have a great and firm belief in theliterary unity of the Anglo-Saxon people, and I shall always count it as worthy of remembrance that I am the first Englishman of letters to produce a new play before a colonial audience. (Applause.) You will, I think, permit me to express the thanks I owe to my colleagues. 1 owe thorn all thanks, and Mr Thornton’s scenery you have already recognised, bub you can know little of the difficulty of the production of a new play at such short notice. Mr St. Maur, however, was. so highly impressed with the critical press of' Auckland that- he was de bermined to produce the play here. There are, of course, certain blemishes inseparable from the production of a new play, bub on the whole I have to offer the most unlimited thanks to my colleagues for their overwhelming devotion in the production of this work. (Applause.) And now, ladies and gentlemen, I have to ask you a showman’s question : “ May I write to my friends in England and say that in New Zealand ‘ Chums ’ is a success ?” The answer —a ringing cheer —must have satisfied him fully.