STAGE JOTTINGS.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 17, 21 January 1933, Page 2 (Supplement)

STAGE JOTTINGS.

The 'first 1933 entertainment by tlie Auckland Theatre Guild is entitled "A Night of Variety," and will be presented to subscribers and friends on January 25. Leading variety artists will appear, and Mr. Harold G. Hobday, producer for the guild, will give a short address on "Why the Legitimate Stage Must Come Back." ; * m - '

Auckland will see Dame Sybil Thorndike a fortnight earlier than was expected. The date of her season has been advanced. from Saturday, February 18, to Saturday, February 4, and the order of the productions in which she will be seen has also undergone a change. Instead of opening with the highly, dramatic "Saint Joan," in which she greeted Wellington and Australian audiences, Dame Sybil will be seen in the delightful satire "Captain Brassbound's Conversion," which, like "Saint Joan," is from the brilliant pen of G, B. Shaw. In order will be seen "Macbeth," "The Medea" of Euripides, and "Madame Plays Nap." Dame Sybil is accompanied

by her husband and son, Lewis and Christopher Casson, both of whom will appear in several of her plays. Lewis Casson is incidentally one of the greatest living producers for the legitimate stage, his works having made him famous throughout the world. Dame Sybil also has a daughter, Ann Casson, who unfortunately could not make the trip. She has been seen in a number of British films, notably "Carnival." In the company touring the Dominion are several English players whose name s ! are well known as stalwarts of the London stage. Albert Chevalier, Phyllis Best, Bruce Wihston, Michael Martin-Harvey, Atholl Fleming, Tom Trac;, Zillah Carter, Hilda Da vies, Kathleea Robinson, Leonard Bennett, Norman Shelley, Donald Eccles and M. Michael complete the fine, cast of players.

The news of the death early in December of William J. Rea must have come as a sad shock to hundreds of his friends all over the world. Considering that it is more than 14 years since he made his (Treat hit in the name part of John Drinkwater's "Abraham Lincoln" at the Repertory Theatre, one was rather surprised to learn that he was only 48. "Billy" Rea, an Irishman through and through, with the haunting melancholy of the true Irishman in his compelling eyes, began mature life as a lawyer's apprentice, but went on the stage in 1907. For some years he laboured on the treadmill of stock and tour,, until in I 1915 he joined Sir Barry Jackson's forces I at the Repertory. There he soon became locally noted for his character parts, and in 1918 he made stage history by his creation of Lincoln, which he afterwards played in London, at the Hammersmith Lyric, for 12 months without a'break. He remained in London for a while, and then little was heard of him until 1931, when lie rejoined Sir Barry and became leading man again at the "Rep." His admirers will recall with delight his work in "Street Scene," "Ten Nights in a Bar Room," and other productions, while in the Malvern Festival he had an outstanding success in "The Alchemist."

"Thirty-two theatres are open in the West End, and about 24 of them house cast-iron successes, many of which are playing to capacity business," stated Reginald Simpson, the London "Daily Mail's", dramatic critic, early in December. "A theatre boom—bigger than any for years —has arrived. WitJi three weeks, still to go to Christmas, it is almost impossible to book a seat for any recognised success over the holiday season. The advance bookings, in fact, run into thousands of pounds. This wave of prosperity is certainly the answer to those Jeremiahs who a few months ago were saying that the stage was moribund." This attitude appears to be reflected by the writings of jnost of the English Press critics, and the same spirit of a definite revival is definitely to be seen locally. In the first seven months of 1932 Auckland was visited by only one professional touring company—the Gilbert and' Sullivan Light Opera Company. But since August there has been a different show at Hie Majesty's 'every month, the current vaudeville revue lasting into a fifth week. This great advance in the stage is to be continued with the appearance of several new English and Australian companies this year, commencing with Dame Sybil Thorndike.

l " \ SOME ERROR. 7 _ Th e y were on- their honeymoon and staying at a fashionable hotel. The bride had been doing some shopping, and on her return was suddenly confronted with the fact.that she could not remember the number of their room, &he tripped along the' corridor, but each door seemed to look alike." At last she came to one which looked familiar, and she gently tapped on the panel. _ "I'm back honeyj let in. she called. No answer. "Honey, Phoney, it's I—your queenie, do let me-in." Silence for a few seconds —then an unfamiliar man's voice, cold, and full of dignity, came from the other side of "the door: "Madam, this is a bathroom, not a beehive."

"A nice eile, please." "Pale?" "No; a glass . wiU do." "What makes you 'so sure that youcannot afford to own a car, old man?" "I have one." ' .. . - ;f ■ Ada: Good heavens, girl, you arc getting plainer every day. Eva: Well, that's something you. can't do. "Why should I always go to bed at a certain time?" complained a small boy. "I don't belong to any union." "Jones' wife thinks the world of her husband." "Does she?" Yes; she even believes that the parrot taught him to swear." Black: I suppose the chief was annoyed when you reminded him that I leave next week? Green: Yes, very much. He said he thought it was this week.

He: .Aren't you liappy now .that X.Y.Z. and Co. will let you pay for the furniture »by instalments? She: Yes; but I would be happier if tliey would let me pay the instalments by instalments.

Waters: Look here, this is the fourth

me I have had to ask you to' return

that loan I made you. Potts: That's nothing. I had to ask you at least a dozen tijnes before you would lend the money to me.

1 lie teacher warned lier scholars never to kiss animals or birds. "Can you give me an instance of the danger of this?" he "asked. "Yes, teacher," replied a boy, "my auntie used to kiss her lapdog." "What happened?" "It died."

Four tourists arrived at a farm in Scotland one Sunday, and asked for tumblers of milk. After drinking the milk the tourists asked what was to pay- "Dear, dear," said the farmer's wife, 'we dinna sell milk on the Sabbath, i e can just gie the bairn a shillin' as ye gang oot."

Needing a pet dog, a young lady went to a dealer and said: I want one of thflse dogs about so high and about- so ' on g'j a sort of greyhound, but it isn't quite, because its tail's shorter and its head's bigger. Also, you see, the legs aren't so long and the body's thinner. Do you keep that sort of dog, dealer? "No, madam, I don't. I drowns 'em."

CROSS-EYED. , I In the dof'k stood three men chawed ; Wlth housebreaking. Ti lc . cross-eled magistrate looked severely at the W ; - . and asked him his name. "Bill |;S' • replied the second man, without hesit,' •• : tion. "I didn't speak to vou," roami ' the magistrate, glaring at him. ' shouted the third, "I haven't snok. , word." I 4 - ? • . : TOO LATE. The foreman was. in the centre of the quarry, inspecting it, whilst the two quarrymen stood at the ed°& of ' quarry waiting. ° . . l-rt "Does the foreman know the exnlo sion wili take place in 30 asked the flret quarryman. "No," replied the second quarrrm#n "I'll teU 'im in a minute." 7 ' , COUNTED OUT. A footballer, noted for his ' had won a large sum on a football' ■ ■ coupon bet—one home and four away teams —and was doing his usual Saturday night brag at the public-house. Next morning he went to feed his, Ave pullets, but to his consternation four were missing. On the poultryhouse door, chalked in largo letters was- "J Home, 4 Away." , .. QUITE ENGLISH, Y'KNOW/ A "doggy" lady met a friend who pr»-' pounded this riddle. "What do you «ee. when you look down a dog's throat I" ' The lady could not gue'sa, and was amused 'by the answer, which is "The seat of his -pants." So .on .her return home she asked her husband, "What dp yctu see when you look down a dog's' throat!" Her husband confessed bafflement. "Why," said the' lady between ?' gusts of laughter, "the seat of his trousers, you silly." LOOKING AHEAD. Mrs. Brown looked tired and worried. "What have you been doing.}" asked.' her husband. /' "I have been round to all the servant agencies in the town trying to find maids," elie replied. "Were you successful ?" he asked.. "Yes," she replied. "I engaged three." "Three?" he echoed, aghast. "But, my \ dear, you must be out of your mind," "No, dear," she sighed. "I am quite all right. You see, on© comes to-morrow, one on the 9th, and the other on the 16th." ~ • :>•

bravery. The drawing room hero was recounting a story to an attentive audience. They listened to him -with hated breath, "I shall never forget," he said, "hour . I felt all alone. I tattled with the waves. Around me were the bits of wreckage. All was pitch dark. I. strove desperately to reach my goal, while every now and then I heard signatfW ; passing ships—none knew I war there."' "Yes, yes—go on!" spoke of his audience excitedly. "And then," he continued calmly, "1 suddenly got the station I wanted. Mv'-home-made wireless set was working. My battle with the ether waves was over." JUST PRACTICE. The famous violinist was giving a recital in a Northern English town,. A mother took her small son to hear him, hoping that the beauty of the masters playing would inspire the boy to put his whole heart into his violin lessons. On arrival at the hall she was disappointed to learn that the shilling 6eats were full. "In fact, there is no room anywhere," added the man in the 'bos office. "Bran the 10/ rows are occupied." "What!" exclaimed the woman. "You mean to tell me that people will give 10/ to hear a fiddler?" The man nodded. Then the fond mother turned round and dealt her son a box on the ears. "Now," she said, "perhaps you'll prac- ; .® ticel" ' - . ;

GIVING BOSSY THE WORKS.

The farmer's rosy-cheeked, bobbed-' haired daughter came striding along the lane from the farmhouse. She was clad in grimy overalls; from the pockets bulged bunches of cottonwaste and dry tools. One hand carried a bag of tools, the other a wrench. "Where are you going, my pretty maid!" jokingly asked the squire's son, who met her. "I'm going a-milking sir," she said. The squire's son looked surprised. "But: the tools—what are they for?" he asked. "Trouble," sighed the girl, "with that dashed new milking machine that father has just installed in the cowshed."