THE PASSING SHOW.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 303, 22 December 1937, Page 6

THE PASSING SHOW.

(By THE MEN ABOUT TOWN.)

"Touchstone" writes: The correspondent who wrote about the use of foreign phrases in books might find an echo to his inquiry in "* the world of "talkies.' It ATMOSPHERE, is the commonest and

most successful stratagem on the stage to give a foraign character in an English play a slight foreign accent. This creates the illusion in the mind of the hearer that the plav is running true to life, and if the thing is skilfully done it is altogether commendable. Sometimes it is overdone. Often a French or German actor whose English pronunciation is imperfect may have to play an English part. Bergner in "As You Like It had a pretty German accent that was odd at first in Rosalind, but was soon forgotten in the perfection of her art. Years ago Mr. Allan Wilkie, in his Shakespearean company, nad an excellent actor with a Scottish accent. He would have been quite impossible if hia enunciation had not been so clear. As it was, when he came to the line "Put money in thy purse," and rolled the "r" one thought of Harry Lauder and bawbees. Lately the play "Under the Red Robe" has been screened with Conrad Veidt in the role of a French gallant and swordsman. Richelieu speaks perfect English, but Veidt pi aye the French part with a German accent. In the "Life of Zola Paul Muni plays Zola, and speaks perfect English, but Anatole France's part is played with a foreign accent, and one or two minor parts have the same technical blemish. Yet the general effect is quite pleasing. These notes are not strictly relevant to the use of foreign words in English books, for the hearer of the talkie understands broken English, whereas the reader of the book may be completely sea as to the meaning of the foreign word. Yet the object in each case is usually the same to create an illusion.

The holiday spirit is already abroad. Walked into an office yesterday that is usually a model of efficiency—one of those places where an appallingly comBACK TO petent person pounces on NATURE, you the moment you enter, and in two minutes has fully organised and clarified your vague ideas of what you had called there about. But yesterday there was a noticeably changed atmosphere. I presented my own ideas of the reasons for my call and got away with it. The assistant was quite human —the automaton complex had completely vanished. He told me all about a trip he was going to make by motor ear, where he was going, who was going with him, the camping arrangements, and all the rest of it. Which goes to prove the humanising effects of Christmas in all sorts of unexpected places. I suppose even the Government official, who is usually so much of the official and so little of the ordinary human being, comes down to mother earth and relents at Christmas time. I remember I once met a schoolmaster during a Christmas cruise. At home on his native heath he is very much the schoolmaster, of whom the entire local population stands in a respectful awe comparable to that aroused by Goldsmith's immortal man of "words of learned length." On that holiday trip, however, he was very much the schoolboy and very little the schoolmaster. I have seldom met a more joyous or irresponsible soul. He was having his one hrief fling of freedom in the year, and he made the most of it. This tendency to holiday thawing seems to prove that the official and professional people who surround our daily lives with dignity and artificiality are just actors in a long and tedious role. They must long to sneak away into quiet corners, and there, ridding themselves of the pose they are compelled to carry, be just their natural selves.—B.O'N. Christmas or no, Christmas, I shall never be able to look a turkey in the face (or beak) again. Some years ago a friend gave me a live turkey as a ChristUNSPEAKABLE mas present. It was in TURK. a sack. When I arrived home with the burden I managed to get the bird into a box. The said box was as large as two piano cases, and to make doubly sure of my prisoner I nailed four by two battens across the top. However, next morning the bird was sitting serenely on the roof of the washhouse. Those who have tried to lassoo turkeys will appreciate the futility of such Wild West methods. No lure would entice that bird down, and so in desperation I climbed on to the roof and flung myself bodily at the brute. It was only then that I realised that turkeys could fly. This one was a real Jean Batten. It made a pel feet three-point landing in a neighbouring garden. By this time I had loaded a shotgun, and with murder in my heart and a total disregard for consequences, I followed. Careful stalking enabled me to "draw a bead" on that bird from a distance of three yards. In fact I could have (and would have) bayoneted it. Hands twitching with indignation and blood lust, I let him have both barrels amidships. The result was so ghastly that when the wreckage was taken to the butcher he did not know what it was. The bird was literally blown to rissoles. As I said before, I shall never look a turkey in the face again. At all events, I do not intend to indulge in another Christmas dinner consisting of green peas and lead shot. —B.C.H.

Various social organisations at this time of the year when the schools are closed for the summer vacation go to no end of trouble

to provide children of the TOURING FARM, city with a trip to the ooimtry, and, all tilings considered, they do really well. But I notice t..„t in New \ork the park department «-oe« one better and lias a scheme by which, instead ot taking the children into the country the country is brought to the city and hawked found the schools. In an endeavour to brin<«a glimpse of country life to tlve children of the congested areas, many of whom have never seen a farm, a portable barnyard makes a tour of the city playgrounds, stopping three davs at each. lhe red wooden barn-on-wlieels "is (towed by a park department truck. At each stop a wooden barnyard fence is set up over which the youngsters stare wide-eyed at a real cow with its calf, and at pi<r* ducks turkeys and the like. The "farm" has proved such a big success that a portable flower and vegetable garden is making a tour, accompanied by lecturers. Crowding through the trellis-covered trailer, the youngsters see for m I"" 6 f° win S in th « r Slow marigolds, black-eyed Susans, forget-me-nots, roses mint, cotton, peanut and tobacco plants etc' The scheme might be worth trying out in ™- C -p w ?, hat * l fin t shoif could be made of goice, blackberry, thistle and ragwort — Johnny. °

THOSE LEGS. Ten-year-old, being scolded on her late return from an ailing ueighbour: "But mummy, you should feel so sorry for po o ; old Mrs. ; shes got asparagus veins in her P ln 3 mibtfU "' V ' " And a dislocated spine. —Reader. THOUGHTS FOR TO DAY. Nobody is pathetic whose life is lit bv a purpose.—Alec Waugh. y My will is baek'd with resolution Ihoughte are but dreams till their effects be tned - —Shakespeare. %!r ?f a^ bat wv day . . brin S s - Regret nothing. Shirk nothing. Wipe 'disappointment" out of your vocabulary.—Stephen McKenn*.