London Theatres in 1928

Manawatu Times, Volume LIV, Issue 6851, 5 March 1929, Page 4

London Theatres in 1928

Young Actors Score the Biggest Successes A CRITIC AIRS HIS VIEWS

An English critic writes of the London theatreß in 1928 in the following article:—- <

There has been little to rejoice over so far as the theatre of 1928 is concerned. Quantity, yes. ... I have visited 42 theatres and seen 125 new plays, but Quality? The three best plays of the year, to my mind, have all been American. That is a depressing thought. They were failures; that is more depressing still, especially as all three—“ The Second Man,” ‘Spread Eagle” and “The Road to Rome”—were admirably acted. On the other hand, the most delightful revue I have ever seen, the work of Noel Coward’s brilliant young brain, has been a conspicuous all-British success, while another British revue, “Clowns in Clover,” has proved that we can more than hold our own in this line. British musical comedy, also, a tender plant which has wilted considerably of late years, is beginning to flourish once again in such successes as “So This is Love” and "Virginia.” A Fine British Play A fine play by a British author, starting with none of the obvious qualities making for success, has done consistently well—“ Many Waters,” by Monckton Hoffe, a playwright who has deserved far better than he has usually received. And, of course, there is “Young Woodley." I am a bit of a heretic over this play, and consider that “Diversion” is far better work, but it is pleasant to see a young British author with two successes to his name. All that is to the credit side, and so far so good. On the other side it will not be necessary to dwell too long. There has been a terrible succession of "Beetles" and “Monsters,” and the fate of most of them has proved beyond a doubt that the public is becoming far more fastidious in these matters. A good thriller—“ Alibi,” for instance, or "Mary Dugan”—still attracts, but now it has got to be gqod. That is one of the lessons of 1928. An attempt was made to revive the insensate success of “Dracula” in a play called “A Man With Red Hair,” but the public rightly would have none of its pathological morbidities, in spite of Mr. Charles Laughton’s “tour de force” In the name part. “Mollusc" Too Slight

but it proved too slight and leisurely an affair altogether, and lasted a bare three weeks.

Sir Gerald du Maurler’s “The Play’s the Thing,” a pleasant little highly artificial comedy, which the audience appeared to think merely wasted their time, was a sensational failure. The Eden Phillpotts well-known recipe for Devonshire comedies seems to have thoroughly cloyed the palate of the public at last; both “My Lady’s Mill” and “The Runaways” were dire failures, and I cannot say I am surprised. ' Our great British playwrights have maintained an almost uniform silence; there has been no new play by any of the. following authors: Bernard Shaw, Sir James Barrie, Galsworthy, Somerset Maugham, Lonsdale, Sutro, or Coward. Arnold Bennett is represented by “The Return Journey,” which did not justify the promise of its brilliant first act. '

Sir Arthur Pinero wrote one exquisite little playlet, which blossomed like a rose among the lurid nonsensities of a Grand Guignol bill. The one and only Edgar Wallace has had four plays produced, three of them big successes! Variety Alive Some of the theatres have had surprising histories during the year; the Strand has had, I think, no fewer than 10 first nights proper, and the Garrick must run that record pretty The Palladium experiment proved beyond any doubt that Variety is very much alive and kicking. So far as acting is concerned, it is Charles Laughton all the way; his Prohack, his Pahlen, his Crispin, his Poirot, his Pickwick—what a weird medley—have stamped him as a character actor of the very first rank. Without any natural graces of person or personality, but by the sheer excellence of his work, he has risen with meteoric suddenness to his present position. Young Frank Lawton's "Young Woodley” has been an outstanding performance, and I wold not like to forget Robert Loraine’s magnificent acting in that terrific Strindberg affair, "The Dance of Death.”

There seem to be plenty of young actors—Maurice Evans is one I would name especially—but it has been rather a lean year for young actresses. Jean Forbes-Robertson has paused in her triumphant flight; her Constant Nymph never really approached in beauty and simplicity that of Edna Best.

An interesting experiment was made in reviving a comedy of the early years of the century, “The Mollusc”;