Judge — January 8, 1916 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BETWEEN HERE ARE you lunch- ing this noon?” asked the Criti “Anywhere,” I re- plied. “Is there any place you'd particu- larly care to go?” there is at the Prince “Let's see what John,” said the Critic. We adjourned thither; and_ presently came the time of demi-tasse, cigarettes, and discussion. “T have seen two most unusual plays this week,” began the Critic. “Unusual in what way?” Lasked. “Un- usually good, or unusually bad—or just unusual?” “T think ‘unusually good’ covers the first, und ‘unusual’ the second,” replied the tic. “Tam referring to ‘Major Barbara’ and ‘The Weavers.’” “IT saw ‘Major Barbara’ last night,” said I, “and I couldn't help registering a mental prayer that there might be more of the same sort soon. It wasn’t anything in yarticular—not even the superlative acting Grace George or Shaw's cleverness. I suppose it was the unbounded relief of seeing a play that depended for its success on neither stage, sex, nor previous condition the Leading Lady's publicity “You are right,” said the Critic. “After all, the play’s the thing, and not the stage- carpenter’s genius. In ‘Major Barbara’ we have a combination that is irresistible a play that isa play and a company worthy of the lines. It is a rare treat for our jaded appetite “Lheard the Tired Business Man and the Suburbanite arguing about the merits of jor Barbara’ the night I was there.” said I, “The Tired Business Man said that they should have blown up the muniti plant in the last act; he said it was the chance of a lifetime to combine a great moral lesson with a real thriller.” x3 By CYRIL INDREW “What did the Suburbanite say?" in- quired the Critic. “He disagreed. He said that they should have reformed that old tough Bill, and put him in charge of the factory. It seems that that was the way he had figured the out- come, and he was disappointed. He referred to the really sublime ‘Euripides’ as a simp, and wondered whether English girls really married that sort of chap.” “LT suppose no further commentary is needed, except the opinion of the Débu- tante,” said the Critic. “She raved—lL believe Shaw is the fashion these days— and then went to the Midnight Follies so that she wouldn't have to think about the play any more. “Taking these remarks as a whole, you would say—" [ began “That ‘Major Barbara’ is the best thing in town,” replied the Critic. “Asa play, it is Shavian; and as an example of acting, it is remarkable I'm afraid I can’t say as much of *The Weavers,’ though,” he added. “It is a fine thing—but most depressing. I should not advise anyone in search of an evening's amusement to go there.” “But the play—and the acting!” L pro- CURTAINS tested. “It is a portrayal of life of which we know comparatively nothing; and Mr. Reicher does beautiful work.” “Yes, I know,” said the Critic. “But the play rubbed me the wrong way, somehow Maybe it was the constant olfactory re minder that Madison Square Garden i: used for Horse Shows; maybe it was a deep- seated aversion which I entertain for any play of a propagandist order: 1 am sure that the play itself and the acting had noth- ing to do with it, for the former was es quisitely constructed and the latter finished to a degree. But its appeal is limited. 1 heard a man sitting in front of me say to his wife—I suppose she was his wife—with the air of Columbus discovering San Do- mingo: ‘Do you know, I think this play is SOCIALISTIC This was at the end of the second act, The penetration of some people is amazing.” “Were any of our friends there?” I asked “Not one,” replied the Critic. “It's off their beats entirely. In a way, it was a good thing, both for them and the play. ‘They wouldn't have enjoyed it at all, and the play would have come in for a lot of undeserved, destructive criticism—if you can call it criticism.” “Well, I’'m glad to sce two such plays ‘Major Barbara’ and ‘The Weavers, I said. “You remember Simeon Strunsky’s problem in modern arithmetic— prove that two and two makes four without writing a four-act drama with its principal scene in a house of ill-fame’—there are too many such effusions in New York now. 1 wonder if we shall ever have all our plays real plays—not a mixture of spectacular scenery and risque lines, with a large dash of Best Lisle-Silk?”” “When that day comes,” remarked the Critic, rising as the waiter brought his ¢ and hat, “you may begin to take measures preparatory for Armageddon.” comicbooks.com