“CHARITY BEGINS"

Otago Daily Times, Issue 25940, 5 September 1945, Page 6

“CHARITY BEGINS "

AN INDIFFERENT COMEDY Men! Men! Men! My kingdom for a man! “ Charity Begins— ” needs men. Mrs Ailsa Stephens’s production of Ireland Wood’s adaptation of a Richmal Crompton story in the Concert Chamber last night lacked many things, but the greatest defect was some masculinity to oppose to the unending parade of womankind. If her mala characters had been less futile, and the three-act “British comedy” had been condensed intq the one-acter it should be, there would be grounds for the suspicion that Mrs Stephens's hand has lost its cunning. As it is. the producer must be given the benefit of the doubt and commiserated with on the material to her hand. “Charity Beings—” is not a good play. There is a doubt even whether it is a play at all. It is full of loose thinking, and loose ends, and the worst that can be said of the producer is that she failed to tie up the more obvious of the loose ends. Her author did absolutely nothing for her. He has stretched things out with'everyknown artifice and device, and at the end of it all he achieves nothing. In this day and generation the end does not justify the means. Very often, perhaps it does, but it is fashionable not to admit it.

Allowances have to be made for the curtained stage in the Concert Chamber. Even now, in the face of sharply increased rentals for His Majesty’s Theatre, it is not too late for the city to provide adequate facilities in such an admirable auditorium. But Mrs Stephens cannot be ignorant of the limitations of her stage in this theatre, and it is impossible not to be disappointed with the use she made of the circumscribed opportunities available. In its presentation the play lacks imaginative setting and resourceful staging of the kind that Mrs Stephens was wont to display. In addition, the cast lacked men. On the purely feminine side the production had its big moments, some of the best of which were provided by Mrs Jane Griffiths, who has a sure, deft touch, and is pleasantly at home in character work. More than most Dunedin amateurs she ceases entirely to be Mrs Griffiths and becomes completely Mrs Deveral, or whatever other character she seeks to portray. In a more jejeune fashion little Miss Annette Kilroy also does exceptionally well. The stage, to her, is something to be used, and she has undoubtedly learnt the art of gesture and movement from the waist up. She loses nothing in speech or mannerism, and invariably makes every word a prisoner. Her portrait of Judy was crisp and well-turned, and even her author’s dubieties she skated round with an adroitness that is more than Drpmising. The honours of the evening were definitely with her and Mrs Griffiths.

More obvious and showy were the parts of Emily Deveral and Miss Case, played by Miss Molly Randle and Miss Ellen Mee respectively. Each of them has a definite sense of comedy. Miss Mee in particular exhibiting a sportive, gay abandon which is infectious to Ik degree. Against a less stodgy background, either may have shone. As it was, they simply served to emphasise a bleakness that a very appreciative audience was more than ready to condone. Miss Lillian McCarthy had a key role, but she failed. The wooden quality she displayed was too dead a thing to be the pivot of the author's idea. She spoke perfectly, her diction was good, but she moved like a marionette, as if every gesture and motion were determined by the tug of a string. The more unlovely the role, the harder the player must work, and Miss McCarthy simply did not work. Miss Betty Dillon, as Catherine, achieved contrast, and more than once she contrived distinction. Hers was a likeable characterisation, but she made less than the most of it. Some of the best moments in the play were hers, and she simply toyed with them. Miss Margaret Gladstone’s Dakar, a household factotum, was stiffly prim and uninspiring. Of the three men, Mr Jeff Moss was the most convincing, less probably because of any inherent artistry than on account of a boyish gaucherie. that was more natural than assumed. Mr J. B. Cull was smooth and correct as Henry, but not even in Little Marvel, Bucks, England, do they produce men of his type. The most uxorious son of a family gone even worse to seed than the Deverals must show ‘ more individuality than he could manage with an indecisive delivery and. an awkwardness of movement. Mr Maurice Bellugue was never sure what he was supposed to be—villain or lover. Still it mattered little which his choice might hit upon, because he was neither. There were times when one felt just plain sorry for Miss Kilroy. when actually the author required the audience to be really afraid* for her charminc innocence Incidental music for the production, which will be repeated this evening, was supplied by Mr Henry Wallace’s trio.