THE TALK OF PARIS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVII, Issue 14325, 22 March 1910, Page 7

THE TALK OF PARIS.

A FARMYARD PLAY. PRODUCTION OF " CHANTECLER." WONDERFUL STAGE EFFECTS. M. Edmond Rostand's novel and long-looked-for play, " Chantecler," was produced in Paris on February 7. For six years Paris had been impatiently awaiting "Chantecler." It is safe to say that no play, modern or ancient, has ever awakensuch intense curiosity or been in a like degree the victim of an inexorable fatality. From 1904 onwards, when M. Rostand first, read his unfinished pastoral poem, it has been one long series of disappointments, and delay for " Chantecler." First of all, the poet himself fell seriously ill, and the play was shelved for years. Then, when M. Rostand had- recovered, the great Coquelio himself was cut down. This was the cruellest blow of all, for with Coqiielin in the leading role "Chantecler" could, never have been an utter failure. Lucier. Guitry, the next greatest actor in France, was engaged to play the name-part, and rehearsals have been in progress ■ for many months past, lis production was an unqualified success. Never in dramatic history (says one writer) have such scenes marked a theatrical performance as occurred at the Porte St. Martin Theatre, Paris. With one accord, the already famous farmyard play was voted a masterpiece, equal, if not superior, to .the same author's " Cyrano," and surpassing in sheer brilliance of versed wit and word-play, combined with gorgeous stage management, anything ever heard or seen before. "Chantecler" has come and conquered. Apart from the originality of its theme, " Chantecler" possesses a host of other points in themselves entitling it to distinction. For example, M. Rostand is probably the most extraordinary individual in France to-day. His # doings are chronicled daily at great length. Thus we learn that his suite at the Hotel Majestic is the most- splendid of that splendid hotel, and that he takes his bath in a solid silver bath belonging to Queen Marie Christine ; that he travels by special train, surrounded by a retinue of 24 men servants, as the Duke of Cambo, the latter being the name of the locality in which his estate is situated, not far from Biarritz; that he pays more attention to his personal appearance than any man living; and that the small fortune of £20,000 was advanced him on his latest masterpiece. After a brilliant prologue up went the curtain on the most extraordinary scene that has ever been witnessed on any stage. It was just a corner of a poultry yard, but of giant proportions, in scale with the huge cocks, bens, ducks, and chickens that pottered placidly around. There was a gigantic hencoop next to a colossal dog kennel, a monster wooden shoe lay near the footlights, and the modest little parapet surrounding the yard was Bft high. High above colossal plants hung an enormous set of harness. The actors wore feather costumes, with the head mask as a kind of helmet showing their faces. On their legs they had scaly gaiters, ending in claws. The human voices and faces did not seem out of accord with the perfectlyfinished dresses, and the scene was so absolutely convincing that the entire audience broke into uproarious applause. The story upon which M. Rostand hangs his sonorous verses, his sparkling witticisms, bis caustic epigrams, and bis innumerable puns is the frailest of structures. Chantecler is the most ordinary of cocks a mere provincial rooster, lording it in some obscure farmyard over a motley household. He has one good quality, an admirable conceit of himself. He is quite 'convinced that the sun awaits his bidding to rise in the morning, and that the other cocks but echo his call. He has also an amiable weakness ; ho is tired of his humdrum life, and has an inclination for adventure. One day as he stalks about his narrow domain in the performance of the daily round a shot is heard, and a beautiful lien pheasant drops from the clouds into the mid6t of ; the cluster of dowdy clucking hens. She is not wounded, only frightened, and they pick her up and hide her from the dog that has been sent upon her trail. Chantecler is struck by the beauty of ithe new-comer, and makes advances after the manner of his kind, but gets snubbed for his pains. That night the owls meet to plot the death of Chantecler, who, as the herald of day, is regarded as the mortal foe of night birds. Chantecler, anxious to make an impression, takes the hen pheaasnt out to hear him command the sun to rise in the heavens. She is impressed, and in the next act, after Chantecler has survived a duel with a fighting cock, cunningly arranged by his enemies the owls, she confesses her love and takes Chantecler away with her into the forest. There they live happily for a month, Chantecler being content, at his mistress' desire, to crow but once a day. One morning a terrible thing happens. Chantecler is out with his mate in a forest glade waiting for the moment to sound his clarion note. The sycophant toads flatter him; a nightingale sings, and Chantecler, rebuking the toads, admits that the song is sweeter than his own. The hen pheasant still further distracts his attention with her feminine wiles, and whilst his head is under her wing the sun arises in its glory —without his summons. Poor Chantecler, his conceit gone, his pride broken, goes back to the commonplace duties of, the farmyard, and the her. pheasant, caught in a snare, goes to display her beauty behind the bars of a cage. The scenery is on a colossal and superb scale. That of the second act is particularly beautiful. It opens at night, and one sees the branches of a great chestnut tree silhouetted against a starlit sky, and he vague outlines of a far-6tretching landscape. As the sun mounts upwards at Chantecler's call, the stars. pale and die, the colours of earth and 6ky change and change until the rosy /light of a smumer's morn glow on hill and valley, on a winding river, on deep-bosomed woods, on snug homesteads and golden fields of corn, and the joyous. song of the birds welcomes the day. In the third act, the scene, a vegetable garden, is admirably painted, but the spectacle presented by the defile of cocks is absurd, and the fight between Chantecler and his rival is almost painfully . ridiculous. The last scene in the forest is good, and yet it does not satisfy. The spider's web which stretches its shining filaments between the huge tree trunks is most effective, but the rabbits that stick their enormous heads out of impossible holes irritate one. The performance was not over until past one o'clock in the morning, but even at that late hour thousands of people were waiting in the boulevards. The Figaro gives some interesting particulars as to the costumes. These number 150, including 48 different breeds of cocks, hens, a hen pheasant, a peacock, and others. The dramatis personse are copied strictly after life. An enormous quantity of feathers has been employed in fabricating the costumes, nearly £2000 worth having been used up in the process. The wearing of these , borrowed" plumes appears to involve considerable discomfort, their weight varying from 111b to 131b. The dog's kennel is nearly 10ft high, and the blackbird's cage is big enough for a man to hop about in at cj.se. There are 21 owls, some 60 cocks, hens, pigeons, geese, and swans, two dogs, frogs, rabbits, and a mole.