Little Theatre Production

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31365, 10 May 1967, Page 20

Little Theatre Production

About 50 cold people huddled together in the Aranui High School Hall last evening to see the Little Theatre production of “Love’s A Luxury.” The play, by Guy Paxton and Edward V. Hoile, is another in the long series of mediocre farces that have poured profusely from English pens since the 1920 s and, no doubt, will continue to do so until the end of the century and beyond. It has the usual assortment of eccentric young lovers, and vicars (the latter mercifully kept offstage), the usual references to croquet and other endearingly English institutions, the usual wizard and jolly vocabulary. But it is more than usually inept in its attempts to keep afloat for three acts; although there are moments of considerable ingenuity, many of the devices used stem less from inner logic than from the whims of its authors. The basic idea on which the play is built is interesting enough —there are distinct possibilities in the phenomenon of actors playing the part of actors play-acting in order to

survive their domestic and romantic entanglements. In this play success in life depends, in large part, on convincing disguise. However, the authors have not been conspicuously successful in their working out of this promising motif.

The inadequacy of the play was accentuated by inadequacies in Peter Gibbs’s production. To begin with, the setting did not suggest the sort of establishment that could afford a housekeeper and a maid. And the theatrical universe inhabited by the actors was no more convincing than their physical environment. Part of the trouble was that one was not persuaded for a moment that any of the characters was connected with the professional theatre. But beyond that again the farcical engine was never properly created, and consequently never seemed to run, let alone get out of control as, according to farcical logic, it must. The tempo was far too slow for farce; the actors could, with profit, have thrown away more of their lines in order to generate the necessary excitement. Again, much of the success of farce depends on teamwork, and this was not abundant. Equally important was the lack of physical activity; instead of a stage erupting with excited and patterned movement and business the audience was given a series of static frames of no great aesthetic appeal. The business with the tape measure was a rare but satisfying instance of what can be done when a producer and actor work creatively together. Of the actors the best was Bill Derrett, who as Mr Mole, the eccentric “ex-taxpayer and scoutmaster,” most nearly approximated the needs of the play. He was always in the part, and helped on occasion to provide the dynamic centre _which the production so sorely lacked. Denzil Downs was relaxed as the much harassed Charles Pentwick, but he was several removes from the character envisaged by the authors.

The younger actors acquitted themselves reasonably well. Robin Queree had charm, but should have made much more of his impersonation of Mrs Harris; his strainings at the leash of lechery lacked assurance. Lyndsay Campbell was decorative, but should have been more coquettish; Linda Bell, equally decorative and endowed with natural grace and presence, was in some ways delightful as the resourceful Molly, but her voice production needs attention.

“Love’s a Luxury” will run until tomorrow. —M.G.T.