“A PAIR OF SILK STOCKINGS.”

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Issue 1452, 21 February 1918, Page 32

“A PAIR OF SILK STOCKINGS.”

Stimulated by a taste of Miss Marie Tempest’s consummate art as revealed in “Mrs. Dot,” there was another large and expectant audience on Tuesday night to watch a further unfolding of her genius for lively comedy in Cyril Harcourt’s witty play “A Pair of Silk Stockings.” Again did she make willing captives of all as she fitted herself like a glove into a part which only she knows how to handle. It was a divorce that was

really responsible for everything. Sam and Molly Thornhill had quarrelled over the merits of a motor car. Misunderstandings follow. Molly “biffs off to her grandmother,” as Sam says, and he seeks solace with Maudie Plantagenet to make Molly jealous. How the divorcees eventually become re-united is told in three acts brimming with comedy and not without their moments of emotion. The denouement takes place at a house party, where husband and wife, unknown to the other, are guests. There is an amateur rehearsal of a scene from “Caste.” Sam is the Eccles, and is in this “make up” when the wife from whom he is separated arrives at the place, having had a breakdown with her car. As Captain Bagnal, an old flame of hers (but now engaged to another), is leaving

for town, Mrs. Thornhill is given his room. Thither Sam in his Eccles guise makes his way to effect a reconciliation, but, interrupted before she sees, him, he hides himself in a wardrobe, at which juncture Captain Bagnal (who lias missed his train) returns, quite innocently, to his room. Sam is discovered, is taken for a burglar, and is trussed up with a pair of his wife’s silk stockings! In the final act all misunderstandings are cleared away, and the curtain falls on a delightful piece of love-making between the reconciled pair. Miss Tempest, as the ready-tongued, impulsive, but eminently loving and loveable Molly Thornhill, develops every phase of her art in the demands made, and meets every situation, daring or otherwise, with a natural aplomb and insouciance that are simply irresistible. Mr. Graham Browne gives a flawless characterisation of the unpolished Sam Thornhill, and provides a further demonstration of his acting ability. Miss Ethel Morrison, as the scandal-loving Lady Gower, acts the part to a nicety, and supplements it with her fine presence, and Miss Gwen Burroughs fills the part of the hand-some Irene Maitland with skill and adroitness. Mr. Sidney Stirling proves an able exponent of the role of -Major Bagnal, acting with a nice sense of judgment in his power of restraint. Mr. Leslie Victor draws a faithful picture of the weak-natured Sir John Gower. .Miss Nancye Stewart, Miss Eileen Robinson, and Mr. Roger Barry take minor parts successfully.

“PENELOPE.” “Penelope,” William Maugham’s three-act piece, which is to have but one presentation on Thursday (February 21), is a witty comedy of the day in the French style. Therein a philosophy unlikely to prove efficacious in real life is seriously expounded by an elderly mathematical celebrity. It is carried out to apparent success by his vivacious daughter, who shows herself capable of being “half a dozen women at once” to her bewildered and finally recaptured husband. Thus, in a series of brightly-written scenes, interpreted with much easy charm and assumption of probability by those two famous artists, Miss Marie Tempest and Mr. Graham Browne, an intriguing adventuress is ousted from

the family circle. When the curtain rises Penelope, by alarmist telegrams,, has assembled her parents, her uncle, and the family solicitor at her house in Mayfair, and after explaining that she “is going to make a dreadful scene in a minute,” suddenly explodes a devastating surprise with the words, “I want a divorce ticket!” It seems that her husband, Dr. O’Farrell, is devoting himself to Mrs. Fergusson, described by the wife as “a great friend of mine and 1 hate her,” and that nothing less than divorce will meet the case. Every one of the excited group has something to say except the professor, who is covering a sheet of paper with “2-2-5,” causing poor Pen,, on looking over his shoulder, to exclaim, “Look here, papa’s become a drivelling idiot!” The lively, but affectionate relations which characterise the family are quite true to life, and are shown with delightful spirit by the artists concerned. However, the professor, thus prodded into publicity, unmuzzles his wisdom by demonstrating that the mathematical absurdity in question represents his daughter’s conduct in systematically spoiling Dr. O’Farrell. “I’ve adored him, I’ve loved him, every moment for five years,” declares the indignant Pen. “Don’t do it,” is the sage’s retort. “Your constant, ‘Do you love me as much as ever?’ is the rope round ,lov,e’s neck; you have made your love too cheap. Never let your husband feel too sure of you. The moment he does, Cupid puts on a tophat and behaves like a churchwarden!”