PRIESTLEY PLAY

Otago Daily Times, Issue 26848, 12 August 1948, Page 6

PRIESTLEY PLAY

“AN INSPECTOR CALLS" TAUT AND PROVOCATIVE With the selection > of “An Inspector Calls” as its current major production, the Dunedin Repertory Society has apparently elected to return to the type of thoughtful material with which it was fleetingiy preoccupied earlier last year. “An Inspector Calls” is a very sound play—the type of craftsman’s job which one might expect from J. B. Priestley—but it is not for theatregoers whose idea of subtlety is a snowoatJ thrown at a top nat. it is a typical example of Priestley prodding the world's apathetic social conscience—an allegory, a clinical dissection of hypocrisy, an acid exposure of human frailty, and an essay on morals. His Majesty’s Tneatre was well filled for the opening of the season last evening, and the play was received with apparent approval. But an attentive ear in the departing crowd could detect a steady diapason of puzzlement in the conversational orchestration. Did it matter so much who the inspector was? That lingering provocation should surely have been secondary to a digestion of the play's content. The scene throughout is in the home of a Midlands business man—a man flushed with financial success and pompously satisfied with his place in his family’s selfish design for living. He and his family are celebrating the engagement of the daughter of the house. With him are his wife, his son and daughter and his daughter’s fiance when a police inspector is shown in. As the story unravels through the inspector’s questioning, it is found thal all five in the family have unwittinglycontributed to a girl’s death. The basic factor is, of course, man’s inhumanity to man. and the author slyly suggests, through the mouth of the inspector, that there is not very much difference between criminals and apparently respectable people if the latter could but know the results of their actions.

But, with the inspector away, the Birling family start to assert themselves, to flaunt their bedraggled remnants of pride, and to query the whole story. They are relieved to find that it has all been an apparent hoax and that scandal has been avoided. But Mr Priestley does not believe in letting his characters escape from the consequences of their actions and the play is rounded off with a last-minute twist—a twist which, somewhat surprisingly, should be /apparent about 15 minutes earlier to anyone of modest discernment.

It is a neat work and, as might be expected from Mr Priestley, a jplay with a purpose. But one cannot help thinking that at times his recapitulation of events and his reiteration of individual confessions is designed as much to pad the work out to a full three acts as for dramatic effect. The action was slow for a start last evening, but as the cast warmed up the book was given pace and precision. Obviously, the play must be dominated and kept cohesive by the inspector, but he must at the same time divert attention from .himself to the people he is questioning. Douglas Dali, handled this role with smooth con-‘ fidence and full regard for its demands. As Arthur Birling, the head of the family, Charles Smith made the most of a part which has been drawn more as a caricature than a true likeness by the author. His pomposity, particularly of voice, was at times forced, but it improved with practice. Irene O’Sullivan was regal and assured as his wife. As the son and daughter of the family, Desmond Wright and Beverley Pollock were given a curious similarity, as much from mutual faults as from the playright’s characterisations. Both were intended to be impetuous and, under pressure, to show the first glimmerings of social consciousness. They were both well restrained in their scenes of hysteria, but they had a common fault in their stage presence. Gerald Croft, the fiance of the daughter, was played by Ronald Smith, who did his best with a role surely intended for a moremature player. Nancy Johnston made a brief appearance as the maid/ The production under Walter Rus-sell-Wood was taut and careful, but a penchant for spacing out the players on the stage with mathematical precision could be seen. Such groupings may be artistically satisfying, but they are otherwise unconvincing. The setting was, as has come to be expected with the society’s productions an excellent and thoughtful creation. “An Inspector Calls ” is provocative and entertaining, and a worthy addition to the society’s long list of productions.