Of Plays and Players

New Zealand Listener, Volume 21, Issue 524, 8 July 1949, Page 17

Of Plays and Players

SHADOW OF THE VINE. A Play in Three Acts. By Beverley Nichols. Jonathan Cape. SEE THE PLAYERS. By Maud Gill, George Ronald, WRITINGS ON ELIZABETHAN DRAMA: By J. Le Gay Brereton. Collected by R. G. Howarth and published by Melbourne University Press.

(Reviewed by

Isobel

Andrews

only thing that binds these three books together is their connection with the stage. Within that boundary they are as different as chalk from cheese, David from Goliath-or Tod Slaughter from Henry Irvine. It is a very far cry indeed from Beverley Nichols to Marlowe, &nd it remains to ‘be seen if one small voice can bridge the gap. Shadow of the Vine is a three-act play all about the Horrors of Drink. Its main idea, as far as I can make out, is that once alcohol is in the blood, it stays there, even unto the third and fourth generation-a thesis which I can’t and won’t accept from anyone. The Heath family lives in a house built about 1835 which has a certain faded elegance and a Regency ~ staircase. Julian is 19 and a composer of some brilliance. We know this by. the number of times he sits at the piano, strikes a chord, and -writes notes on a sheet of manuscript, Arthur is the other brother — I forget what he does — but both hate their father, who is a dipsomaniac, Mrs, Heath is a beautiful! woman with a beautiful nature. The play is highly dramatic and when the brothers get really wrought up they swear, and we can’t help feeling "How daring." They are, you see, Edwardians. To lighten things up a bit, comedy lines ate introduced such as, "Oh, go into the garden and eat worms," and quick as a flash comes the answer, "I can’t, I’ve eaten them all." : One could go on. and on, but it’s too easy "and could become cheap. I am fully aware of the terrors and problems of, dipsomania, and am in favour of open discussion of the theme. But not here. Not by Mr. Nichols. The blurb on the jacket says, "It . . . glosses over no ugly facts and though it has pity, it offers little hope. Perhaps for those reasons no commercial theatre has yet ventured to. present it to the public." I can think of another reason, The second edition of Maud Gill’s book See the Players is published 10

years after the first. It is as pleasant to re-tead as it was to discover. As a rule, men and women who have convulsed or delighted audiences by the waggish lift of an eyebrow or the significant gesture of a hand, fail to convey any &S8sence of their personalities when they try to write, Instead, they lapse into a series of banal and often incredibly naive anec-

dotes which do not hang together in any way and are often buried under a perfect hailstorm of ‘exclamation marks. Miss Gill, although quite fond. of the exclamation mark herself, uses it with far more discretion. She has an endearing sense of the ridiculous, an orderly and well-balanced mind and a real flair for writing which has produced a book of theatrical reminiscences which is also a narrative and an enlightening human document. Her own personality, without any undue forcing, comes through very nicely, and although she is as sentimental as. the next over the theatre, she tempers her enthusiasm with a down-to-earth realism which makes good and informative reading. One can quarrel with her mainly about the things she leaves out. She meets people in her youth who are "now well-known figures on the stage," but gives no clue to identity,.and this can be quite frustrating to the reader who wants to be told all. Maud Gill is on her own admission a comparatively unknown actress. This is apparently due more to her own choice than through any lack of ability or opportunity. "There are," she says, "so many pleasant things in life which get in the way of one’s concentrating on any one department of it." She is now appearing in "old hag" parts in English films and is quite happy to do so. When she began such roles she had to’ wear a wig and heavy make-up. She still needs a wig, but the make-up gets lighter each year. She will, she thinks, still be suitable for "old hag" parts when she can step into the studio and play as she is, so that the advancing years hold no terrors for her. The book can be recommended to anyone who is interested in either the history or the gossip of the stage. And those who have no such definite interest will still find it an agreeable and entertaining ‘companion, J. Le Gay Brereton, author of Writings on Elizabethan Drama, died in 1933 while Professor of English Literature in the University of Sydney, He has written a formidable list of books and pamphlets on the Elizabethan drama, but academic studies absorbed ‘him too much and this present volume is the first work to be published since 1909. Norman Carter’s portrait shows a igh, benevolent forehead, clear, for-

Warad-iooKIng eyes, and a mouth pursed in a half-smile. The portrait fits in with the writings, which are a collection of essays, analyses and notes, wide in scope and interest, deep in sympathy and insight with, all the while, a sense of fun which bubbles up every now and again through the clear waters of scholarly erudition. The book is a labour of love, edicontinued on next page)

BOOK REVIEWS (Cont' d)

ted by R. G. Howarth, Professor Brereton’s admirer, pupil and friend. Anyone interested in the Elizabethan stage should be grateful to Mr. Howarth. For someone like myself, who has read the Elizabethans with an over-all enthusiasm but who has not had the leisure or the fortitude to delve deeply, a proper assessment of this book in regard to its place in Elizabethan criticism is a fairly tough proposition, It would be presumptuous even to attempt to enter the labyrinthine ways’ of Shakespearean controversy, for instance, when all one is equipped to do is to stand at the entrance, peering in. The best approach must be that of, the ordinary reader picking up the book for information, rather than that of the expert, girding up his loins for one fight more. As an ordinary reader, then, I found the book intensely interesting. The essay on Richard II has made me reread the play with a sharpened insight. The notes at the back, notably "Nathaniel’s accident," illuminate lines and passages which have hitherto proved obscure or unintelligible. The "gall and ashes" of John Marston become at least understandable. But it is the two essays on Marlowe that I found particularly engrossing-Marlowe, who in his short six years of writing "vitalised English blank .verse, raised the English chronicle play to the dignity of tragedy, and gave English tragedy a spiritual significance which proved it akin to the masterpieces of Aeschylus." Professor Brereton’s study of Marlowe’s dramatic art in T’amburlaine follows cause and effect ta its logical artistic conclusion and makes us want to try again what has hitherto proved an exhausting and, quite frankly, defeating tour de force. "The Case of Francis Ingram" is an extremely witty reconstruction of a crime which has intrigued us for centuries. Written with a chuckle and with obvious enjoyment, an alternative title could have been "Who Killed Kit Marlowe?" The short chapter on the Elizabethan playhouse does not tell us much more than we know already, but it is done in a manner which, to quote Mr. Howarth, is a "simple exposition of a complicated subject." The illustrations and designs of Allen W. Gerard make it more simple still.