IN THE GRAND GUIGNOL.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 20870, 9 November 1929, Page 16

IN THE GRAND GUIGNOL.

MASTERPIECES OP HORROR. I let out last week to spend an evening at the Grand Guignol, the little Parisian theatre which for many years has specialised _in the production o! “horrors” (writes a London correspondent of the Melbourne Age). Mel'vi’ama has fallen into disrepute, but these little plays are masterpieces of their They manufacture their thrills with a gusto which the modem " thriller ” lacks. ■ Old Pete Hidon, who preached for many years in the little village of Montmarte, at the back of the Cite Chaptal, would have been greatly sho hed could he have foreseen the fate of his beloved little Gothic Chapel- After his death it passed into the hands of a manufacturer of religious ornaments, who used it as a showroom. Later, it became the studio of the painter Rocheg.*o£se. Li 1896 it was opened as the Theatre Salon, which in the following year became the Grand GuignoL The name was magic. ' It has readied to the ends of the earth and passed into at least one other language. A more suitable building for the purpose could hardly have been found. At the end of a narrow, winding little street, squeezed between gloomy old buildings, it has an eerie atmosphere. The entrance hall, panelled in dark wood, is dimly lit, and hung with pictures of the most terrifying scenes from previous productions, with a lavish display of red ink. One, by an artist of repute, is a thing of hiring satire. A German soldier, expiring in agony on a heap of his comrades, scrawls in blood on the wall beside which he is lying the words, “Got mit uns.” Similar decorations line the auditorium. The administration of the Grand Guignol, having decided to terroris" public, seta out wholeheartedly to fulfil its mission. ‘ The reputation of the theatre was established by a succession of plays staged by M. Max Maurey before the war. It endeavours to reach a high standard. Some of the best playwrights of their time have specially written for it, among them being Courteline, author of the beloved “ Boubonrouche,” Henri Duvernois, Oscar Metenier, and Level. The present programme is excellent. Comedy alternates with drama. It would he impossible to maintain the of excitement for three hours, Rosalie,” the opening piece, is a clever one-act sketch of a provincial servant girl. This is followed by “ L’lcone qui s’eteint,” dealing with the horrors of the Russian revolution. Next is another short farce, and then “Les Pantins du Vice,” a two-act drama by Charles Mere. The plot is simple. It is midnight. Old Elphas and his daughter are putting the finishing touches to two lifesize dolls, the work of 10 years. They represent a shepherd and shepherdess, the girl being extraordinarily beautiful. Dread sounds are heard outside, and a demoniac face appears at the window. Eliphas fires, but the face grinning fixedly. “ You cannot,” it says, “kill Death.” The stranger enters, followed by a woman crying piteouslv. He declares himself to be Professor Heintz. The woman is his ward Annia, hypnotised and condemned to follow him everywhere as punishment for having hated him. He is in love with the female doll. He demands it, but Eliphas refuses to part with it. The professor commands Annia'a soul to leave her body,_ and proceeds to demonstrate what he will do to the old dcllmaker. Annie's heart is removed in full view of the audience, and Eliphas, terrified, cries he will agree. Elated, the professor prepares for his greatest achievement, the transference of Annie's soul to the body of the doll. While he is engrossed in the attempt Elipha's daughter, who has been hiding, creeps up behind him and stabs both the hypnotist and the doll, which is slowly coming to life. Annia’s soul is liberated at last. The play is loosely constructed ir parts—it is not explained why the professor calls himself Death and is invulnerable—but the acting is splendidand the atmosphere so cleverly created that minor inconsistencies are lost sight of. In the sphere of unadulteratedmelodrama I doubt whether the Grand Guignol has much to fear from Mr Edgar Wallace,