Judge — March 4, 1922 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

FIGURE that when the check for this article comes in I will to date have made exactly $6,725 out of the argument that, in the matter of music shows, the United States leads the world. I first posed the conten- tion when Ziegfeld produced “The Follies of 1912,” and have been in the habit of repeating it whenever I need a new suit. This, however, is, alas, probably the last time that I shall be able to exhibit the idea profitably, since I note with distress that almost every- one is beginning to agree with me. There was a time—about seven or eight years ago—when the theory still had some bounce and novelty and when I was still accused, in the sponsoring of it, of having been greased by Zieg- feld with numerous rich and costly baubles. My argument has served me well. And not only me, but some of my friends. Well do I recall the day, indeed, when I magnanimously loaned my standby to Dr. Sherwin and when he got out of thinking for a week by sitting down and writing one week-day newspaper review, one Saturday dramatic page review, and one magazine article on it, claiming in each—foul ingrate!—that I had cabbaged the great idea from him back in 1892. And not less well do I recall that other time when I rented out my theme to a distinguished Harvard professor, who wrote two profound articles on the subject, which he spoiled completely by spelling Ann Pennington’s name with an e, and for which the rent is still due. Ah, those happy, happy days! True, I have a feeling that I may still be eble to sell another article on the topic to the editor of Harper’s Maga- zine, who hasn’t seen a music show since “Byrne Brothers’ Eight Bells,” but nevertheless the game is pretty well up. So, for the next ten years I shall have to write about “The Art of Acting.” The Art of Acting has already netted me $4,280, and is no- where nearly exhausted. I figure that the Art of Acting, during the year 1922 alone, should pay for at least a dozen cases of gin, eight cases of Italian vermouth, and perhaps even two or three bottles of Aquavit. I HANG to-day’s article anent the superiority of the American music show on this convenient peg: the recent importation of Albert De Cour- ville’s London revue, “Pins and Needles.” Assuming, and doubtless not without justice, that “Pins and Needles” is the representative London America First By Greorce Jean NATHAN revue, one is immediately struck with a seediness beside which even an old Joseph M. Gaites music show took on an aspect of great splendor. In the present instance, Mr. De Courville, after reading the next morning’s news- paper notices, explained that the boat that had the show's costumes and scenery on it had struck an iceberg, and that, as a consequence, he hur- riedly had to get together new cos- tumes and new scenery at an outlay of $40,000 in order to open the piece in time. Taking Mr. De Courville at his word is the worst thing that a critic could do to him. For if he actually spent $40,000 on the present costumes and scenery in “Pins and Needles” he is a producer of very dubious taste and less commercial acumen. On the opening night there was not a costume on the stage throughout the evening that captured the eye; and, as for the scenery, even Mr. William A. Brady might have been forgiven a chuckle. If one doesn’t take Mr. De Courville at his word, he is not much better off. For if the costumes and scenery were those of the original London production, and were sagaciously apologized for by the iceberg, then all one can say is that the American revue is much more superior to the English than even the most obstreperous of us had convinced ourselves. LTHOUGH I am famous from coast to coast as a reviewer of exceptional manners—I am, as is well known, invariably as refined as granu- lated sugar—I make bold to descend to the bourgeois and ignoble suspicion that Mr. De Courville’s iceberg, or whatever it was that detained the ship laden with finery, is largely mythical. And I am brought to this base con- clusion by observing from the pro- gram that the costumes and scenery were not the only things that were de- tained by the irrepressible berg. In addition to the costumes and scenery it appears that a number of the lyrics, melodies and dance numbers were simi- larly detained. For, surely, such lines as “lyrics by Ballard McDonald,” “music by James Hanley” and “pro- duced with the assistance of Julian Mitchell” have a very pleasant and familiar ring, and are approximately as typically Londonese as Longacre Sauare. Yes,I fear that Mons. De Cour- ville has been spoofing us. If he apol- ogizes for the costumes and scenery, he should—to keep in the picture—also apologize for having left behind him 20 his lyrics, songs and stage producer. I do not forget, as the crafty reader may think, that the London revues are often half—and more than half— American. The average London revue to-day looks and sounds like a road company of “The Follies of 1918.” What I seek to point out is the ina- bility of the English revue producer to achieve anything like the results of the American revue producer, even when he employs the same _ lyric writers, song writers, dance directors —and even costume makers and scene painters. The London revue generally makes one think of a revival of “The Greenwich Village Follies” of the year before last, with the lights in bad work- ing order. Some of the English come- dians are excellent fun makers, but beyond these comedians the English producer has nothing to offer that American theatergoers have not be- come familiar with several years be- fore. What would the typical London revue be without its American per- formers? Take away Elsie Janis, the Dolly sisters, Shirley Kellogg, Teddy Gerard and the hundred and one Ameri- cans who are London favorites, and all that would be left would be an imitation of Ben Ali Haggin’s “Fol- lies” tableaux vivants (with the tights very wrinkly at the knees) and the joke about what happened in the bridal suite in the hotel at Brighton. COMPARED with a Ziegfeld “Fol- lies,” a George White’s “Scandals,” a John Murray Anderson’s “Green- wich Village” show, or a Shubert’s “Gaieties” or Winter Garden exhibit, such a revue as this “Pins and Needles” seems an exceptionally amateurish thing. The beauty of a Ziegfeld show, the humor of a “Scandals” and the imagination of an Anderson show are observable init inno degree. Further, unlike the American shows, these Eng- lish exhibitions have about them al- most always an air of economy, the feeling that someone has been trying to cut down expenses and save money. The impressive lavishness of the American revue is completely absent from them. Indeed, “Pins and Needles” in its entirety probably did not cost as much to produce as the pearl scene in the Music Box spectacle. The two leading performers in the De Courville exhibit are, of course. Americans: Miss Edith Kelly Gould and Mr. Harry Pilcer. In the matter of these particular native performers, however, I find myself as patriotic an American as General von Ludendorff.