“THE BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM,” AT THE NEW THEATRE.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume XII, Issue 746, 23 June 1904, Page 20

“THE BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM,” AT THE NEW THEATRE.

Says a London critic :— If a percussion cap had exploded and blown up a village, or if a spider’s web had been torn from a corner and brought away half a house with it, the effect would have been little more surprising than the hullabaloo that was created by

the production of “ The Bride and the Bridegroom ” at the New Theatre on Thursday of last week. Mr Arthur Law’s comedy is a spider’s web in the theatri-

cal workroom, a percussion cup among dramatic combustibles —it wouldn’t hurt a healthy fly or disturb the peace of mind of an oyster. What did those bat-brain-ed, leather-lunged ignoramuses see in such a piece to warrant the disgraceful scene that followed its first representation ? What did they see in the play at all, or, better still, what did the ordinary, unprejudiced, clear-thinking men and women who were present, see in it ? Speaking as one in that broad class, I discovered in Mr Law’s comedy much to laugh over and to praise, a little to nod over, and absolutely nothing to inspire a feeling of resentment against the author or his interpreters. It is a perfectly harmless piece of dramaturgy —ae modest and inoffensive a play as you shall con-

ceive. The people in it are well-bred, nicely-mannered men and women there are only two commoners in the piece if we except the servants —and they are actuated by the best intentions in all they undertake. There are the young couple to begin with —charming people who are devoted to one another despite a temperamental weakness for having their own ways in all things. There is a poet,, a “ minimum ” poet, and his charming wife ; a gruff old admiral and his lively young spouse, and there is old Lord Beecroft, whose hobby is pigs and his wife, who “ as recently as 1865 ” had her picture reproduced in the Book of Beauty. All these people have the happiness of Sir Owen and Lady Wyvern at heart, and honestly believe that a little tactful intervention in their domestic affairs will con-

done to a better understanding between them. The poet, Tom Bruce, engages to have a chat with the. young wife, and Lady Allison, the admiral’s third matrimonial venture, undertakes to whisper words of counsel to Sir Owen. Bruce discovers in Lady Wyvern a kindred spirit, a woman with a soul for poesy, and he proceeds to compose an acrostic upon her name —probably because the name Beatrice lends itself so easily to two four-

lined verses. Lady Allison is a commonsense person with political leanings, and Sir Owen is the accepted candidate for the Parliamentary division of the county in which all characters are congregated. Consequently, and quite naturally, while the poetical affinities are mooning about in the rose garden the political allies are scouring the Berkshire lanes on canvas-

sing expeditions. And that >is as far 1 as we had got when the curtain fell on the second act.

“ Half the play over, and the story scarcely commenced,” a youth grumbled in my ear ; “ it’s a bit thick !” In point of fact it was a bit thin, and that is the fundamental weakness of the piece. Despite the absence of plot and the slowness of the action the author succeeded in making the audience laugh —and laugh consumedly—by the humour and wit of his dialogue. Sir Charles Wyndham, as Bruce, hit off the butterfly character of the poet with excellent lightness of touch, while Miss Vane Featherstone, as his tolerant, gay-natured wife, was charming in every way. Miss Mary Moore spoke her sparkling lines and managed her contrary old admiral with captivating humour, and Mr Alfred Bishop, as the admiral, was greatly amusing. Mr Henry Kemble contributed a clever character study of the pig-raising nobleman, and if his porcine weakness became a bit of a nuisance before the end of the play it

was not the actor’s fault. Mr Eille Norwood was easy and gentlemanly as the bridegroom, and Miss Sybil Carlisle was very charming as the rather spoilt youngbride.

So far there was nothing to complain of in the entertainment, except a lack of brisk dramatic movement, and in the third act this defect is somewhat rectified. The poet gives the interest a fillip with his Acrostic, which naturally causes complications and misunderstandings. He attempts to convey his verses to Lady Wyvern concealed in a basket of roses, but they are intercepted by Lady Allison, who drops them' into the waste-paper basket, where the Admiral, thinking the paper to be a milliner’s bill, hunts them out. Of course, he jumps to the conclusion that they were addressed to his wife, and the infuriated, purple-faced Othello can scarcely restrain himself from man-handling the poet, who flutters around in blissful ignorance of the danger which threatens him. Both Bruce and Lady Allison are aware that the Admiral

has shown the poem to Sir Owen, but as they do not know that he is ignorant of their intended destination, they are amazed at the cool way in which he takes itIt is not until the estrangement between the young couple is completely settled that he learns the truth. The end comes swiftly, and is handled with no little adroitness ; but there are some dull minutes in the last act, and some irritating irrelevancies concerning the wellbeing of a Berkshire sow which ought never to have survived the dress rehearsal. The tamest part of the whole play comes, most unfortunately, at the. end,, and it certainly discounts the amusement that has gone before in the minds of playgoers. A weak ending is always dangerous, but a dull one is even worse, and if the “ Gods ” had made, as is their custom, a mildly-hostile demonstration,, one would not have been surprised, since these gentry have not sense enough to make allowances. But there is a difference between a show of disapproval and a riot, and that is the only word to describe the uproar which ensued on the fall of the final curtain.