Life — June 16, 1921 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

876 Gold and Some “‘Forty-Niners” T the end of the first act of “Gold,” Eugene O'Neill's latest contribution to our native drama, the audience is in a fair way to die of thirst before the ushers can come down with the water-cruets. The scene is laid on a sun-baked isle in the Malay Archipelago, and the members of the crew of the wrecked “Triton” are seen staggering about over the sand in search of water which is not there. They find a chest of what looks like gold, but they can’t drink that, as one of the characters playfully remarks. And after George Marion and Ashley Buck, as the Cook and the Cabin Boy respectively, across the dunes in a highly realistic manner, it remains only for Willard Mack, the Captain, to come on and roll his eyes and the entire audience starts wetting its lips and gulping frantically. The first act of “Gold” holds out a promise of being a prelude to one of the most enthralling of the new season's plays. But in the second act, while the effect of drought is well maintained, it a drought of less theatrical value than that of the first act. lips in vain for, relief from the parching, maddening glare of the conversational exposition which beats down on the scene in the boatshed. Whenever a character remarks: “ Just a mo- ment before you go, I want to talk to you for a spell,” rasping gulps may be heard throughout the house as the listeners sink back in despair. And, considering that Eugene O'Neill wrote it, this amateurish-sounding housemaid-and-butler talk is all the more surprising. : gged themselves panting Here it is action that the audience wets its I always know that a play is clumsily written if I can detect passages in it that 1 myself might have done. “Gold” is full of touches that sound as a play of mine might sound, especially the scene in which it is decided in two minutes that the Captain's future son-in-law shall take the ship out in place of the Captain, there being just time for him to step into the wings and grab a suitcase from a waiting property man, before stepping aboard for a six-months’ cruise. That would have looked all right in the ‘script to me, but it ought not to have to Mr. O'Neill. HE rather dry march across the sands of the second and third acts is enlivened by the deep voice of Mr. Mack. In “Gold” he proves himself an actor capable of playing finer parts than many of those he has written for himself in the pas: True, in moments of stress, the old New England whaler breaks into a slight brogue, but nowadays, when one hears more brogue in Boston than in some parts of Ireland, any- thing in this line is plausible. And if it were not for the richness and force which Mr. Mack’s voice puts into “Gold, LIF there would be little to keep the audience alive during the middle of the play. As it is, with Mr. Mack and the inevitable distinction which must always be apparent in anything that Eugene O'Neill writes, “Gold” is well worth seeing. It is a matter for self-congratulation (and equal praise for those newspaper critics whose reviews we read) that an account of the thirst-provoking qualities of the first act of “Gold” was possible without a single facetious reference being made to the Volstead Act. wa wk inl 2 HERE is something so naively second-rate about “Sun-Kist’ that it becomes a very passable entertainment. Fancho and Marco, a pair of Pacific Coast favorites, have brought the show across the continent for the edification of New Yorkers and there is no reason why New Yorkers shouldn’t find amuse ment enough in it to justify its moving to another theatre when the Follies crowd it out of the Globe next week. In the first place, it contains practically everything tha used to hear in the Bijou Variety Theatro at home when you boy, and after all these years of imitation revues i you were 3 comes with the reminiscent exhilaration of a Briggs cartoon There are the two comedians who stand very close togethe: and sing a rapid potpourri of erstwhile popular songs w burlesque lyrics, in which limburger cheese and a very hi tenor are the features. There is the soprano soloist who offers as an encore to he bird-warbling number a roguish little selection about a big hear who said “ WOOF!", such as always is the encore number in parlor recitals, causing much refined laughter among the Nadi Other old friends who were noticed were the following, known to have left the Atlantic seaboard early in 1849 on a prairie schooner bound for California and the gold fields, and evidently just completing their long journey in time for “ Sun-Kist” to give them a ride back to New York: 1st Comedian (walking like a duck): Just walk this way, c. 2nd Comedian: What a funny way to walk! “ My wife is a vegetarian, but I don’t let that make any differ- ence. She goes to her church, and I go to mine.” (In answer to Central's “What number did you want ?”) “Well, what numbers have you ?” s and not a little terror among the children. pl UT for all this, there is something about “ Sun-Kist” tha is extremely friendly. Everyone in the cast thinks it i fine, and that helps. There is some good dancing, pleasant music, and an extremely lithe and scenic chorus. And, between the jokes that grandma used to sing, every once in while there appears somcthing really funny, as, for instance when Mr. Chain attempts to put over the big song-hit of the evening by making the audience join in on the chorus, the only distinguishable words of which, either from his own inaudibl rendition or the version printed in near-Polish on the screen. ar zn occasional “ Jennie, dear” at the end of each line. Mr. Nelson’s sincere appeal to the audience for home-made layer cakes (cither walnut or chocolate) for him and his partner, June also h excep! Nelsor which dance comicbooks.com