THE STAGE “TOAD TO TOAD HALL”

Press, Volume XC, Issue 27435, 23 August 1954, Page 3

THE STAGE “TOAD TO TOAD HALL”

Children’s Theatre Presentation

ENJOYABLE PRODUCTION OF NOTABLE PLAY

Few things fascinate man more than discussing himself and even when a child offers an opinion he is vaguely I alert for the contribution, though he may hate to admit it. In Kenneth Grahame’s “The Wind in the Willows" adults saw their world through the eyes of a child, and if it brought some laughter it also produced flushed faces, for to children grown-ups can be beautifully senseless and highly illogical. From this classic book, A. A Milne has written the play “Toad of Toad Halt” and the Canterbury Children's Theatre Society’s presentation of it in the Repertory Theatre on Saturday could not fail to exhilarate any normal child and satisfy, and even stimulate, an adult. In some ways “Toad of Toad Hall” compares favourably with any play presented in Christchurch. tinder the direction of Neta Neale, 50 players, ranging in size from three footers to six footers, perform with ability that is not only competent, but startling. That most were under masks probably accounted for their showing of such confidence but, even so, a number gave the impression that without this protection, from the audience their performances would have been just as good. In the roles of Rat, Mole, and Badger, Ronald Neale, Pauline Colthart, and Brian Fisher Betts played their parts as smoothly and naturally as one could wish. The dominating animal is, of course. Toad (Elrlc Hooper)—the type of person who has the fastest, flashiest, and newest of everything. He is an animal of crazes. Dressed to give designers severe heartbum, he invests in a canary-yellow horse-drawn cart In an accident his new craze Is smashed, but far from being brokeiihearted he is thrilled with the cause of the crash—a miracle machine, a car. He buys one. A few weeks later when driving his eighth (not his own) at a fantastic speed, the others having been reduced to pulp, he is caught by the law and dragged to court. There he faces three charges, the most seriof which is calling a policeman (Pat Bonlsch) “fat face.” The jury twitters and gossips and before the case starts everyone gets out with “He’s guilty,” to which the judge (George McCleary) replies: “Of course he’s guilty, but that’s not the point. What’s the stiffest penalty?” The penalty is 20 years. Stripped of his glory he lies on the dungeon floor, apparently broken. But the Toads and Falstaffs do not lie down for long, and Mr Toad escapes, looking monstrous and absurd in the disguise of a washerwoman. His sober-minded friends, Rat, Mole: and Badger, the middleclass types who place equal value on security as on adventure, attempt again to cut him down to size. They again fail and even they end by admitting that, though Mr Toad continually ridicules rigid laws and society and is la rascal, he is also very lovable. They realise that people like that cannot be changed