Theatre Royal.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5192, 24 December 1884, Page 4

Theatre Royal.

I *■ "Rachel." If Mr Sydney Grundy is to be complimented on nothing else, he is certainly.to be congratulated upon having 1 evolved* a three act play from some rather curious materials, which he has cast into the form of a prologue. It is a very old story, that truth is stranger than fiction, and consequently the probability is that improbable thing." and curious mixtures of events take place around us every day in "this workingday world of ours" without our being aware of them. It ia the business of the playwright" and the novelist — nay, their very bread and livelihood — to unearth such strange occurrences, and " work them up," for their own profit and our delectation. Therefore, it is not worth while to argue the point whether he has not gathered together a plot somewhat difficult to believe in thoroughly, or whether the various motives which prompt his characters to take certain rather out-of-the-way courses are sufficient to account for their actions. Suffice it to say that the curtain falls on the prologue leaving us with the idea that things, to use a colloquialism, are " a little bit mixed," and seem likely to become more so. We know that a baby has been stolen by, apparently, a very wicked man ; that another has died; that the mother of the living has sold it, supposing it to be the really dead one ; that the babe has been substituted ; that the mother has gone to prison in charge of what seems to be rather an unnecessarily large number of police, who display moat ostentatiously each his respective " bull's-eye," as who should say, " You see I am a policeman, this is a real bull's-eye ; look ! it's all alight and burning." In short, there is a mixture of flavours about the prologue. A touch of "Lights o' London," a spicy soupqon of " Jo," and a strong general sub-savour of about-to-be-developed melodrama. We are ready for anything that may turn up. Luckily, Mr Grundy is a very skilful dramatist ; he disappoints you most agreeably. His story clears itself, and grows clear and interesting as it goes on. Two or three times he trembles on the verge of melodrama in his situations, but saves himself by well-written, original dialogue, or a telling drop of the curtain as a climax is arrived at. In short, though not to be named in the same breath with " Forget-me-Not" as a piece of brilliant, polished, literary workmanship, or placed on an equality with the " Queen's Favorite " for racy repartee and bright, smartly-written dialogue ; or again, with " Mammon," as an absorbing emotional drama, " Eachel " is a capital play. There are strong passions at work; a suffering heroine and a coldblooded, gentlemanly villain have to receive their dues, and a pair of lovers to be made happy. There is interest, varied colouring, contrasts of character, and a high level of author-craft, which is maintained throughout. The play, then, may be taken, not for what it is not, but for what it is, a most acceptable pie n e of original work, from the pen of a clever English dramatist, who knows his trade right well. So much for the play. As for the players, they, as far as the principals are concerned, are splendid. Miss Ward is the Nemesis of the piece, and the character becomes her. There is that in her presentation of quiet power and earnest fixedness of purpose in the pursuit of a justifiable revenge, that attracts and lays hold of the mind. Kachel is a woman of more than feminine sagacity, penetration, firmness, and mental capacity, perhaps, but a woman still, full of love and tenderness and motherly feelings. With such a woman one can sympathise, and not, as in the case of some other of Miss Ward's heroines, admire her with a shudder. The same stern, strong I qualities are present as before, but they are not so dominant and over-ruling. They are tempered by many a softer. This is the lightest part yet undertaken by her in Christchurch, and it is high praise to say that she displays in it the samo incisive force, the same truth, artistic finish and elaborate study as in all her previous impersonations. Mr Vernon's Cap to in Craven is another success. Ho is

a desperate villain, a well-bred scoundrel, with an affected military swagger, but without one trace of feeling or compunction for his evil deeds, one hope, still leas one fear ; a gambler, who plays for high stakes and loses with a superhuman indifference to his fate — the handcuffs, and " ten years." Captain Craven in Mr Vernon's version is delightfully natural. He plays through the part with the ease and sang froid of life itself. Both he and Miss Ward have their best opportunity towards the end of the second act, when Rac'iel shows him, moment by moment and word by word, that he has to deal with a strong enemy and no weak woman. The easy swagger disappears, the cold calculator becomes the man of action, the slumbering demon flares up. But he has met his m«tch, and both artists are roused to do their best. To watch the command of facial expression and facile gesture, and hear the quick speech and quicker retort, is to enjoy a histrionic treat of a raro kind. The audience did enjoy it, and tho curtain had to be raised again before their applause was hushed.