THE THEATRE.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXVII, Issue 17329, 18 November 1916, Page 12

THE THEATRE.

(By CRITICUS.) In London ingenious persons in want of something to talk about have ’ beeß moved to discuss the uses of women in • men’s parts on the stage. The demands of the Army—so the thesis goes—having almost exhausted tftS supply of actors young enough to look the boro, we must call on the other sex to provide Romeo as well as Juliet. A oral*, bed critic might reply that many « popular stago lover is far beyond this ego which interests, recruiting officers, and that youth upon the stage is a much more extensive period thau tho years numbered in the Military Service Acts. But this is mere jibing. That tho supply of young heroes in London is running short no one doubts. That the remedy of putting old heads into green parts cannot always bo applied is obvious. There remains the universal resource of al! harassed professions mid trades, femimno substitutes.

Sir George Alexander has toss ertis, ited with the declaration that he sees no reason why women should not play some male parts evon in; Shakespeare. Sir Herbert Tree has conjured up a vision of a woman platdng Othello. But that, though horrible enough, hastily setitle the matter. The most* ardent feminist would allow that her sox has acme limitations, and might* add that while no woman could play Othello, not many men make much of him either. After nil, tho present generation has seen'a woman play Hamlet with singular power. What, Sarah Bernhardt can do isi indeed not evidence of the general capacity of women. As well call Shakespeare into the box to prove that any male plajwright can provide tragedy.

Apart from . om® rare . genius, pnfl suspects that any woman playing om» or trie great men’s parts in Shakespeare, however sound her technique, however true her taste, would be at best odd. She might win a success of curiosity, hardly a success in art. You can imagine for example, a girl looking Romeo well enough. You do not want to imagine her acting the part. Take an easier case, n slighter character. A girl might out a pleasant figure as Bassanio. Bub if you saw a girl play him,, yon would at best be thinking how neat a trick she made of the impersonation. The illusion' might be clever, but would you forget for au instant that it was all illusion? For tho charm of the love scenes, for the beauty of the -.poetry, there would bo at best the enjoyment of cleverness. What ire might have at worst is 'too grotesque to talk about. It is not a reply to say that if Shakespeare s women, in his own time, were played by boys, his men in our day may lie played by girls. ' None of us can be free from the conventions of our own time. The Elizabethans may or may uot have been satisfied by their boy-heroines. But wc who ha,ve always had men nlayer bv men and women by women cannot suddenly change our tastes and our standards.

From time to time, actresses are called on to disguise themselves as menBut in such parts, fro hi Rosalind to Lady Ursula, the real eex is part el tile appeal of the acting. A , charming Rosalind gives us no pledge that s>u« •would he even an agreeable ■Orlando. The historv of the stage knows several male parts in which women have been vsstlv popular. There’is, for example. Sir Henry AVildair, one of Peg Woffington’s greatest', successes. But Mrs Woffington must have had a turn for playing men, and' this part, like most of those in which the eighteenth century liked to see women, is not much more than sprightly nonsense. Neither tho records of. the past nor phe nature of things, gives much; rpasqit ,tq: believe that women-will have th© stage all to themselves. .. I;

• The production of “A Little Bit oh Fluff” in New York has evoked a, curious diversity of opinion on the part of the critics. It. has also afforded the “Tribune” representative, whose notice is not altogether favourable,. an opportunity for some remarks, worth quoting, on the attitude, of .English playgoers. “ Whatever our opinion o! the” piece may be,” says this writer, “the fact remains that it ran 400 nights in London. The farce is inter-* esting, therefore, as , a study in. war psychology. It goes to show what a numbing hand the great war has/laid upon the London stage. The;; Anglo* Saxon on either side of the ocean iS not particularly afraid of life or but he will never greet hint as an equal. The Reaper must endure'the cut direct from the Englishman and the American. And so the Tommies die humming ‘ Tipperary.’ . or ‘ O’Reillev.’ as our men snug ‘ A Hot Time.’ Tho man on furlough from tho front asks from the theatre that it shall show him things as they are not and never were. . Not .for , a moment will be tolerate being reminded of thfi reality which lurks just around the corner. ’ These plays from Londbn race, but for all their speed they cannot make the spectator forge* the thing from which they flee.” To this the “Daily Telegraph” replies:—" “The. critic is good-natured enough, hut he seems rather solemn. It is not because we are at. war that we like fafees to- show its things ‘ as they are not and never were.’ That is the perennial business of farce. We. seem to remember plays' from America, ,and very good plays, too, as jovially indifferent to ail reality as SA .Little Bit of Fluff.’ Yet the world has .not heard that the United States has declared war on anybody. The popularity of a good rollicking farce dcoa not depend, cittftr in war or peace, upon its being ft work of art or its dealing with stern realities. We laughed at nonsense before the war came, and nonsense will make us laugh after the last 'shot is fired- We cannot promise, indeed, that our nonsense will be funny in New York, or New York’s nonsense vastly amusing here. For farce is not of the things which are universal.’' -

The death of Mr George Spencer Edwards (“ Handsome Gporge ’ T of the London “ Referee,” the original ‘VCarados” of that journal, is the subject of an interesting sketch, byDagchet (Mr George R. Sims), an erstwhile colleague. “Jn 188/,”, Sims.;writes, “ George Spenoer Edwards was the principal critic of the .‘Era, 1 sfnd was’ anxious that the proprietor should n oi know that lib was writing for another ‘ theatrical’ organ. In consequence®r the careful concealment of his identity it was for a long time believed in thote* rical circles; that I was 4 Carados. I®** unearned laurels did not always . sitt lightly on my brow. I remember first night at. the merry little Strand m the ’ seventies when Arthur Swanborough and his brother Edward publicly denounced me for having written above the signature of 4 Carados criticism of their sister Ada,which theyj did not consider friendly. \ And the, real Carados, stood by m.v side and ? made no attempt to conceal his appro* ciation of tho humour of the ste nation. Mr George Spenoer. Ed*: wards remained an honoured member of the ‘ Referee’ carde to the end,', but his last contribution to our column* was made in 1910. .He was a good fellow and a loyal fnend. and we .lovedhim. And now he is only a happy memory. Of the original staff of the ‘Referee’ only three now remain. These three are the still young and vigorous Mr Richard Butler, our eagle* eved and level-headed editor; Mr Hen# Chance Newton, who is our ‘Tns< tram ’ and a constant contributor to. the now co-operative columns of Gai a—dos’; and tho dreamer of dreams who still roams among the roses of life and threads his way among the thorns lomatically. 'disguised as'