GETTING A PLAY PRODUCED

Otago Witness, Issue 3854, 24 January 1928, Page 76

GETTING A PLAY PRODUCED

By

A Dramatist.

The . productions of the Everyman Theatre, the Q Theatre, and until recently the Barnes have attracted so much profitable attention from West End managements that they have come', very rightly, to be regarded as valuable stepping stones for young authors. I have experience c c only one of them—the Everyman—but it is typical, and may be of interest to other ambitious writers of plays. The first question which arises is, How is such a production achieved ? I know of no way but the ordinary one of -submitting a manuscript and awaiting the decision of the management. There are just these differences, that, at the Everyman, for example, a great many more plays are produced .every year than in any West End theatre, and there is no “ star system ” which necessitates a play conforming to the needs of a particular actor or actress. The policy of the management is experimental. An author need not be frightened that some departure from convention will in itself prejudice a sympathetic consideration of his work. Plays are rehearsed usually for about a fortnight Or three weeks, and though his play is in the hands of a highly-skilled producer, he would be a very foolish fellow indeed if he did not attend rehearsals. One is tempted to say that, for a would-be playwright, production bv the veriest amateurs is better than no production at all—but when the production is of the highest order and the play acted by a first-rate professional cast—he is at every rehearsal adding to his mastery of his craft.

But till the opening night he can have no idea of th e effect of the play on an audience, and, nerve-racking though it may be, it is an experience of the highest value to sit through the evening and ■watch the reactions produced by his work. The results are startling. Often humiliating, but always illuminating. Lines and situations regarded during rehearsal as a “ sure go ” become of no account—others which may have seemed. only to contribute to the progress of the play stand out in unexpected relief and obtain laughter or applause. There has probably never yet been produced a play which has not needed alteration in rehearsal, and a sensible author is present, pen in hand, to seize the opportunity of amending or deleting passages which seem irrelevant, of restoring perhaps balance to characters or scenes which, left uneven when writing, can be adjusted when actors give life to his work. The opportunity to make such corrections provides another lesson in stagecraft for which the young playwright should be devoutly grateful. Now to the more mercenary questions. A playwright may dismiss from his mind any thought that he is going to make much money out of a production in an outlying theatre. The practice of West End managers of paying a sum in advance of royalties is not followed. The author, of course, obtains a' regular contract by which he is entitled to a certain percentage of the gross receipts—hut the seating capacity of these theatres is small, the prices are moderate, and the policy of the management is to run each plav only for a few weeks. The hope, of course, i s that the production may be instantly so successful (as, e.g., Noel Coward’s “ The Vortex ”) that it is snapped up immediately and transferred to the West End. Let it be said that this does not happen very often, depending, apart from the merits of the play, on such factors as whether there is a London theatr e vacant at the time and the contracts of actors and actresses. But there are other possible markets. The play may attract sufficient attention to be deemed worthy of publication. Offers may b e received for provincial rights, for-Continental rights, and, 'best of all, for American rights. I mention these because they were, in fact, made to me. though my plav wa s not transferred to the West End. In th e case of American, rights, payment of a fee. “ in advance ” is generally to be relied: upon'. It must not be imagined that such a production increases one’s stature much as a playwright. It i 8 flattering to the vanity to see one’s name for . the nrst time on posters in tube lifts—to nave one day when no world-shatterin<r news can eclipse the fact that somij little notice is taken of one’s efforts in the daily papers. Unlike the novelist, whose reviews trickle in over a period of weeks the playwright hears his verdict in a day, the only chance of confirmation or mitigation being on the following Sunday The effect, especially if it happens to be favourable, is a little overpowering to the strongest head—hut sometimes strangely little ice is cut.

Now, because of the immense amount of good work that the little theatres have done, the foremost, critics attend their performances and give them their weightiest consideration. There are two effects arising from this. The young playwright advantage of being criticised by the highest reigning standards—which, though it may result in a drubbing, is highly advantageous to him. The second is that the managers and agents have the idea and the story of the play and the impression it has made on an audience set before them concisely by many expert hands. i- - • I,ave ne 'U}er the time nor the inclination to read many manuscripts, these criticisms will tell them if it is .Worth their while looking at the plav as a finished production.

I have dealt only with th e theatre I know. A word, however, must be said about, those admirable plar-prodweing societies which, backed up by’tKj zeal of professional actors and actresses', give Buch excellent performances on Sunday nights and at matinees.

Rather than wait wearily while his manuscript travels from one manager’s office to another, the young playwright who has the high fortune to be offered such production is missing a great opportunity if he does not seize the - chance with both hands.—John o’ London’s Weekly.