ALL ALONE AT THE MICROPHONE

New Zealand Listener, Volume 12, Issue 292, 26 January 1945, Page 10

ALL ALONE AT THE MICROPHONE

(Written for "The Listener" by

JACK POINT

FIND myself interested and perhaps a little disturbed at what I call the solo moments in radio plays. The solo moment is that moment when, due to the requirements of the play, all but one of the actors leave the microphone, and the play is carried on by the remaining player, who talks to himself. The play may represent him as breaking into a house in the stillness of the night, disposing of a body, or hiding from hunting policemen, but he cannot keep quiet. He has to chatter away to himself all the time. Now in real life people do not as a rule do that sort of thing. My wife has the stage to herself in the kitchen, but I do not hear her talking to herself. Singing in short bursts, yes; delivering a monologue, no. But she would be if it were a radio play. She would be talking hard to herself. | "Now, let’s see-juice of one eggah, here’s an egg-crack it-bing-drop contents into basin-missed it, oh bother — well, here’s another eggcrack it-bing- drop contents into basin-ha, got it in that time — now, where did I see that egg beater?"and so on until joined by a second character. Of course, there is a reason for it. The stage player alone in the footlights’ glare need say no word because the audience can watch him, but the radio player, being merely heard, must continue to be heard all the time. Let us take a play in which there is a period maintained by a single actor. ‘We will say that in this play the lone actor is the hero who has been bound by thugs and placed against a keg of | gunpowder on which a stump of candle

quietly burns. (This is pretty oldfashioned, and will bring a wince or two from repertory players, but a bit of practice in wincing won’t hurt them.) In the stage version the actor is gagged in addition, and gives a masterly display of struggling with ropes and attempted blowing-off-of-the-gags, which is revelled in by a pop-eyed audience. The radio player, however, has to chatter as he works. This means no gag, and puts him in a position to ery for help. It also, rather unfairly, earns the thugs a name in, the underworld for slipshod work. But the hero does not cry for help. He is far too busy talking to himself. "M’m-tight spot all right-those rats have certainly fixed me up pretty well-by the look of that candle I’ve got about an hour to get loose or else, wacko! — better have a go at these ropes-hup!-hup!-tough all right(continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) hup! hup — most annoying these beads of perspiration running down my brow-hup!-hup!-no go-well, maybe I can blow out the candle--fuff-fuff-very difficult-fuff!-fuff!-trying to blow out-fuff!-fuff! — a candle over one’s shoulder — fuff!-fuff!-hup!-hup! — fuff!-fuff!-hup!-hup!" -and so on until the entrance of the rescue party. I feel that our radio play writers are not working hard enough. They must not rest content to jog along with these wretched monologues. I listened the other evening ‘to a play in which a German spy was dropped over England from a plane, and all the way down, as he swung under his parachute, he talked to himself. Maybe this was true to life. Maybe men descending by parachute do talk to themselves. I wouldn’t know that, but I do know that the writer could have avoided the monotony .of it. Might he not have handled it this way? The spy is on his way down. Enter a lark, singing dolorously, and obviously very tired. Spy: Hello there, lark. Lark: Good evening. Spy: You look tired, lark. ; Lark: I am tired. Dog-tired if a lark can be that way. Spy: A lark could, I suppose, be that way. How did you get so tired? Lark: Oh, I was singing away and went higher than I intended. ' Spy: You mean you sang higher? Lark: No, I soared higher. Spy: Well, I’m going down. Can I give you a lift? Lark: Thanks, I’d appreciate it, Spy: Hop aboard, There you are, you see. And how much more interesting than listening to a chap telling himself at intervals that he ought to be down in a few minutes, checking over his equipment, and wondering loudly if he is going to make a happy landing.