Life — October 6, 1927 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

Mostly Good Ames will come up to WE are sorry, but unless Mr. our house and next Gilbert and Sullivan reviva are now definitely audience-shy, bert and Sullivan audiences arc stand them, and we won't. showing of his + we cannot see it. We at least so far as Gil concerned, We can't give us a private Here was a production of “The Mikado” which ex- ceeded in loveliness anything that has ever been don for Gilbert and Sullivan, even by Mr. Ames. It was so lovely that the only thing to do was ery a little And yet, on the opening night, it was seized by a ray enous pack of noisy wolves in the audience and torn to bits. They were so avid in their appreciation of the music that they applauded thro great stretches of the precious orchestrati They were known as Gilbert and Sullivan lovers that they hummed through all the numbers, burst out with guttural “charm ings” and “braves” (and incidentally, those who insist on yelling “brave” might at least get their genders right when they yell ata lady singer), and laughed long and loud at jokes which, if they were real Gilbert and Sul livan fans, they would have stopped laughing out lond at years ago. The final outrage came when the man ne xt to us, at the first bars of probably the most threadbare of all the Savoy songs, explained to his partner that she was now The Flowers Th nt Bloom in the Spring- And he actually said * “too. At this, we untied his tie and went and stood up back. Bae ee Wwe retract what we said at the beginning about not seeing Mr. Ames’ next revival. Even at the risk of bursting a blood vessel, we don’t want to miss it. so anxious to be = J' ST as we had decided that there was no such thing » funny farce slong came G eM Cohan’s “The Baby C Now there is a funny farce. The best part of it is that it is not foo funny. Based on so slight a foundation as the struggle for the owner- ship of a Pekinese dog, it glides along for two the smoothest of impossible comedy. The third act, while a trifle of a let-down, would be good enough for any other show. The general effect is delightful Thanks probably to Mr. Cohan’s personal direction, the individual performances are practically perfect. Grant Mitehell in the lead is, of course, That was to be expected. But young Mr. Spencer Tracy, 1s the bull-headed husband driven to insanity — by his wife's fidelity to the much-mooted Cyclone (for such is the dog’s name), does a beautiful piece of work with a part which many another might well have done noth- ing with. The fact that every once in a while there is a faint suggestion of Mr. Cohan himself about Mr. Tracy does not hurt a bit, either. And Nan Sunder: together with land, especially in her screaming. scenes, part of the our old favorite, Joseph Allen, seems als conspiracy to make “The Baby Cyclone” one of the best things in town. ea t this late day, vurt- TYOU would not believe it possi that a play which takes pl room, with only recesses in the trial for intermiss could hold your interest as “The Trial of Mary holds it. Bayard Veiller has done a remarkable of dramatic dish this. When you come into the theatre, the curtain is already up and the court attendants are about pre paring for the murder trial of Miss Dugan. The And vet the end of each act, an nounced simply by “The Court will adjourn,” has been preceded by such skilfully concocted suspense that there a kick to the clerk’s droning formula than to any a curtain descending on gun-play or rapine The plot should not be told here, but we “The Trial of Mary Dugan” to your attention, and are quite at liberty to say that the cast, especially Rex Cherryman, Ann Harding, Arthur Hohl, are in every way what Mr. Veiller’s play deserves. entirely ina Dugan” piece writing to ace whispering cur tain never descends is more of recommend > seas EX aL PLAY from England called “Yellow Sands” a bit mild to stand the wear and tear of Broadway competition. In fact, it seems a bit mild to stand any competition at all, even that of a good book at home “Yellow Sands” f those English folk-plays themselves into Broadway every while and, as quietly, ease themselves out, leaving a faint aroma of Macassar behind them. The most inter- esting thing about the play to a fish-fancier would be the catch of flounder mac T the which all the fish, perhaps twenty in number, were of the same size of the seems is one which ease once in a Devonshire coast: in same mother and evidently cut ou! lode of rubber. In short, some of the worst fish ever scen on the American stage.