A Hand of Poker

New Zealand Listener, Volume 20, Issue 506, 4 March 1949, Page 8

A Hand of Poker

WHAT is to be said of a radio play whose whole point depends on the technicalities of a hand of poker? Only (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) that, by way of warning, those who are not poker-fans will find "Two Can Play" (by G. Murray Milne) totally obscure, and that they had therefore better omit it from their listening schedule. For those who know the game it is quite remarkable to discover how it is possible to deduce what cards the dead man held in his hand in the last game he played, although nd living person. knew the answer. Out of forty-two cards it was possible to eliminate thirty-nine-and of course the three possibilities led to the incrimination of the man who had done the murder. This little play wasn’t really important dramatically, and it would have been improved if voices of more differentiated character had been chosen for three out ef the four card-players; also it would have added to the air of verisifnilitude if less obvious names had’ been chosen than Southern, Norwood, Weston, and* Easton-which made the players sound less like flesh-and-blood people than something out of Culbertson. But as a neat conjuring-trick, or something in the, style of a mathematical puzzle, the play succeeded. Recorded in the Studio UMBERS of local people have been heard recently in readings, talks, and dramatic excerpts from 4YA, and the only indication I have had that these were not direct from the studio was given by a needle which got stuck in the groove’ (a hitch which can ruin the atmosphere of a broadcast when so much depends on the intimate, personal rela-

tionship between performer and listener). One is rather shocked to find that the ear can’t distinguish between direct performance and recorded item except when a technical error calls attention to it. Of course, there’s no such thing as genuine person-to-person performance in radio; there are two barriers between listener and performer, the radio set and the microphone. And it is undeniable that the ear, which would imme-| diately note the vast difference between a radio item and a concert performance, can not always tell the difference between a studio performance and a broadcast from the studio of a recording of the same item. As the reception is by mechanical means in any case, we mustn’t cavil too much if the studio finds it necessary to make a recording. It enables a group of people to perform at a time suitable for all of them. It enables the listener to have the best possible performance, since a new Tecord can always be made if bad mistakes occur, whereas a studio performance, once it goes wrong, is irretrievably ruined. And it does give the radio station a permanent record which can be sent to other stations more conveniently and more cheaply than could the people who take part in the performance. But I hope the practice won’t extend too far into the field of music. With the spoken word, local recordings seem to be excellent. But similar records of music for more than one instrument at a time have not, up till now, proved themselves as foolproof as those made of talks and dramatic performances.