THE TASTE FOR "PERIOD" PLAYS

Dominion, Volume 29, Issue 255, 24 July 1936, Page 16

THE TASTE FOR "PERIOD" PLAYS

TT is, in my belief, impossible to recapture period in the theatre, that is to reproduce it accurately, perfectly, writes Sydney W. Carroll in a London newspaper. The actors, as a rule, have had little or no training for such a feat. The procurers, however, experienced, ’ naturally enough, base their ideas of the past almost entirely on their experiences of the present. They feel too keenly a need of bringing the long ago into line and touch with to-day. And yet, despite these difficulties, to many so insuperable, period. in plays is becoming more and more fashionable. At least five of the biggest West End successes are plays of the costumed past. » And in each case the atfempt to glimpse and revitalise the dead years and remembered figures and customs has been almost triumphantly brought off. How can we account for this unusual interest in the grandfather’s clock, this antiquarian zest, this zeal for the archaic, the dust of ages past? Does it come from a wish to escape the horrors, the terrors, the anxieties all around us at the moment? Does it mean that in most of our hearts there is an irresistible urge for the beauty, the peace, the serenity, the grace and loveliness of the long ago? Are we not succumbing to the contrast of ancient colour with to-day’s drab, quiet with noise, eloquence with incoherence, expression with dumbness? A speculation in this direction may not be without profit to our souls. One of London’s - most beautiful theatres, His Majesty’s, is now making a gallant attempt to restore its prestige and preserve its traditions with an exquisite Regency fantasy. The combined brains of Max Beerbohm, Ciemence Dane and Richard Addinsell, the decorative genius of “Motley,” the acting brilliance of Ivor Novello

and his wonderful company provide a feast of period atmosphere the equal of which no Loudon theatre has had for years. Its delicacy, its subtlety, its refreshing allure, and accurate reproduction of the time spirit make “The Happy Hypocrite” a sparkling gem plucked from the treasury of the past to adorn the present. At another honoured playhouse teeming with warm and happy memories of period plays, the St. James’s, we have-Jane Austen brought to stage life with her “Pride and Prejudice.” Were ever such pleasing and harmonious costumes, such wonderful settings, such glorious peeps into the unforgettable century of ease and good manners given as entertainment before? The lovers of the Napoleonic age may at Daly’s Theatre renew their thrills with the dying Emperor at St. Helena; Becket meets his death in the cathedral for your benefit at the little Mercury, and “Peer Gynt” may be seen, in its entirety, mark you, at Sadler’s Wells. And now to crown the joy of those who love the period piece, there has arrived amongst us, at long last, Eugene O’Neill’s most adorable study of the days of his youth', his most fragrant comedy, his cleanest and sanest wor k—“Ah I Wilderness,”- at the Westminster. This production defies all my beliefs, my standards and my instincts. w Its characters talk the oddest and most fascinating jargon of Irish and American, past and present, and. I imagine resemble the folk of New England of that particular time much - less than they do a company of Ir'sh players from Dublin in the year 193 S —and yet, and yet, in their ensemble they afford a satisfaction, spiritual and aesthetic, of the sort that even the originals of the portraits might perhaps fail to give us, could we restore them.