MARCUS SHOW

Southland Times, Issue 23228, 17 June 1937, Page 6

MARCUS SHOW

Colour And Variety In “La Vie Paree”

LAVISH PRODUCTION At the Civic Theatre last night a packed house found itself caught up in a new experience. Vaudeville is not unknown in Invercargill, but not before has it been staged here with the swiftness and precision of the Marcus Show. Its magic has been announced from other cities in terms of unstinted praise; but there must have been many persons in the audience who came with curiosity, perhaps a little incredulously. These sceptics had a quick conversion. The first roll of drums seemed to summon to the stage a strange new world in which colour, sound and movement were the only realities. To many persons it must have seemed as if the stage had become a gateway to the makebelieve of Hollywood. This was the atmosphere of the musical extravaganzas grown familiar to theatre-goers in recent years. Here was the same spontaneous gaiety, the beautiful precision of chorus and ballet, the artistry of the principals, the rapid change of sceneabove all the continuity which builds an illusion of imagery, melting and changing in a succession of new forms. But it was not all spectacle. As the curtains swung down upon ensemble or full stage presentation, a comedian appeared in front with the first joke on his lips; or a troupe of tumblers came with hand-springs; or man and girl glided out to the spotlight and circled in the rhythms of a specialty dance. It is probably for the stage spectacles that “La Vie Paree” will be remembered longest in Invercargill—not because a collective artistry overshadowed individual performances, but because it was there that the full resources of the company were concentrated. In their arrangement and orderly unfolding there could be traced the skill of American stage-production. “Under the Andalusian Moon” had the colour and verve that have come to be associated—at least on stage and screen —with Latin America. “In an Underworld Cafe” had a quickened tempo. The rough-house scenes, the provocative appearance of “Shanghai Sal” and the knife-throwing climax brought a touch of drama, lost quickly as the curtain came down and Ben McAtee and Ha Cha San carried the audience through a joyous piece of fooling. “Fantasie Parisienne” and “Birdland” were memorable for bizarre costuming and a skilful blending of colour effects as the Marcus girls moved into position. “Palais D’Argent” was dominated by the silver goddess, undetected at first upon her pedestal, but coming to life as a shapely and graceful dancer, clad mostly in silver paint. And in the elaborate “Wedding of an Acrobat,” slow movement was replaced by a quickened beat as the Belfords swung into action with some extraordinary acrobatics. TALENT EVENLY SPREAD Talent is spread evenly among the individual performers. Leon Miller tapdanced with that deceptive abandon which means experience and rigid training, and at the right moments he was equal to a comedy turn of the kind which exploits an exaggerated seriousness. Fid Gordon seemed able to play the fiddle in every possible —and one or two impossible positions; he coaxed and bullied the strings, even biting them in a sort of melodic paroxysm; and underlying the complete control of instrument was a sly humour which rounded off the portrait of a “crazy” violinist. Senorita Sofia Alvarez sang her southern songs with Latin fervour and in a voice of good quality. Sharon De Vries showed herself to be mistress of burlesque, tinged with a captivating gaucherie; and Al Ricker, who appears to have an india-ruber body, slid and glided across the stage with comic effect. Les Sechrist was popular as a piano-accordion player, and Harold Boyd and his Jigsaws were irresistible in a combination of tumbling and clowning. The comedians were oustandingly good. Ben McAtee specializes in sophisticated fun, and last night he provided a choice blend of wit and humour. George Schreck is a comedian of another kind. More than most of the others, he makes use of oddness and exaggerated mannerism. He comes vaguely on to the stage and stares bemusedly, so that when he seems suddenly to go wild the contrast between extreme passivity and galvanic action is in itself a comic interlude. There is nothing haphazard in the way he flings himself about and breaks into wild crowings and neighings, but the illusion of spontaneity is preserved in the maddest of his fantastic tumblings. Comedy, however, is by no means confined to one or two principals in the Marcus Show. Last night it made unexpected appearances, peeping from among the girls of the ballet, following quickly on the heels of a dance turn, slying treading a measure in the midst of an ensemble. The Marcus boys rushed on, ridiculous in the flimsy trappings of chorus girls. A voice broke in from the dress circle as a comedian began his turn, and was answered quickly from somewhere in the stalls. The comic byplay grew faster and funnier, until the laughter of the house was lost in a clash of cymbals as the show went on to its next presentation. These were the touches that gave the revue its air of completeness. Its comedy was pervasive; there was humour, not only of quick and glancing dialogue, but of conception. The entire performance seemed to be knit together by invisible threads of laughter. Special praise should be given to the orchestra of New Zealand players, under the direction of Alfred Coleman. Under exacting conditions they played excellently, in the true spirit of the production. Time passed quickly as the music accompanied the revue through its succession of brilliant acts. Only after it was over was it possible to realize how much had been seen and heard. , “La Vie Paree will be shown again tonight. Tomorrow evening, for its last performance, the company will present a completely new programme, “Broadway Vanities.” There will be completely new scenery, new acts and new lighting.