THE DRAMA A review of the allied arts of the theatre sponsored by the Drama League of America and published eight times a year, from October to May, for all interested in the progress of the stage PROLOGUE. The It will be good news, we know, to members of THE DRAMA family who, we trust have missed us during the summer, that we now appear in a new dress and with an addition to the family. new dress is of less importance than the other acquisition. In more formal expression we announce "THE DRAMA in combination with THE LITTLE THEATRE MONTHLY and THE LITTLE THEATRE NEWS, at home, after October 1, 1925, Fifty-nine East Van Buren Street, Chicago, Illinois." Many of you already know THE LITTLE THEATRE MONTHLY and will welcome the news that we have joined forces. For the benefit of those of you who are not acquainted with our new ally, we may say by way of introduction, that it has been the only publication of its kind in America that has covered --and will continue to cover -exhaustively the field of the little theatre "from coast to coast, and from Canada to the Gulf." In this new section of THE DRAMA, you will find all that you should know about the progress of other little theatres and, if you are well behaved in your drama conduct, you will be able to read about yourself. You will find, also, lists of the best plays available for your use with all the necessary information pertaining thereto. short, it is our hope that THE LITTLE THEATRE MONTHLY will be to you in its new affiliation, friend, In CONTENTS VOL. 16 PEGGY WOOD OCTOBER, 1925 MUSICAL COMEDY OR DRAMA? Two LETTERS FROM PARIS No. 1 Frontispiece Peggy Wood Pierre Loving} 7 8 Glenn Hughes Jack Crawford 10 A BROADWAY VISITOR IN LONDON HAMLET IN A BOWLER HAT WE ARE THREE, a Comedy Theatre 11 234679 philosopher and guide. (Applause.) By the time this reaches you, you will have received your first copy of The Drama Calendar, an invaluable weekly published by the New York Center of the Drama League. This little book will tell you, from week to week, what's what and why in current theatricals in New York. COVER CONTEST The generosity of a friendly school drama society, which has high ambitions for the American drama and is sympathetic with the aims of THE DRAMA, makes it possible for us to offer a prize of seventy-five dollars for a suitable cover design for the magazine. Barrett H. Clark 12 Glenn Hughes 13 Laura Norton Brown 14 J. Vandervoort Sloan 16 Evelyn Henderson Fife 17 test may easily be met. They 19 are that the design be somewhat conventionalized in treatment; that only one color of ink be used that the drawing suggest the field covered by the magazine; and that the wording and the title as they appear on the present cover, be retained. We are desirous of a new cover design that may be used throughout the year. The conditions of the con The Play's the Thing A New Type of Footlight Meetings, Alexander Dean Oliver Hinsdell 21 Theodore Fuchs 23 24 The Little Theatre Play List A List of Plays for Thanksgiving 28 Pauline Sutorius-Langley 30 . THE DRAMA LEAGUE OF AMERICA 32 34 34 Miss Wood's presentation of Candida in the Bernard Shaw comedy of that name, would undoubtedly delight the author if he were to see it. In addition to the not unimportant factor of physical beauty, Miss Wood has personality, tact and a knowledge of the role's requirements that make for an ideal Candida. In private life Miss Wood is Mrs. John V. A. Weaver, wife of the popular author of "In American." There have been many alternatives offered since Hamlet could decide whether "to be or not to be" and the choice is often as difficult as was that one to the Prince of Denmark. One of these alternatives was recently brought to me: should I continue in musical comedy or tread the paths of drama? As that merry jester Touchstone said: "Much virtue in an 'if,'" so it is that there is much argument in an "or". And so it was with me when this alternative presented itself. I have always loved to sing and I always shall. Song is perhaps "the first gift of the gods." In musical comedy one is intrigued by the glamor, the color, the beauty of picturesque surroundings, the music, the variegated pattern, the froth and bubble and the fantasy of what is so often of the "never-ever land. Then there are the songs, some of which are often complete plays in themselves. How keen is the interest every night as to whether or not the songs will get over! There is also the constant worry (ever present) about your voice. Is it as good tonight as it was last night or as it will be to-morrow night? A bit of worry makes work worth while. On the other hand there is the play, with no music, no orchestra to lift you up, no gay and glittering ensemble, with the lights and colors more subdued but with the element of drama intensified. When you play a dramatic role you build and build, climax upon climax and there is nothing to divert the steady flow of dramatic development. In musical comedy you have to keep starting continuously from the scratch. You play a scene and then the dramatic continuity is broken by a song or a dance. When you again take up the plot you must start all over again not only to get back into the proper atmosphere but to bring the interest of your audience back to the story. There is, undoubtedly an allurement in musical comedy that is hard to resist and that only an opportunity to play such a role as Candida can overcome. Of course such opportunities are rare and they would be rarer still were it not for such organizations as the Actors' Theatre and the Theatre Guild. And, of course, there is but one Bernard Shaw. After all, no one can wonder that I should eagerly embrace such an opportunity. And best of all, it came when I was really eager to make a change. Many so-called musical comedies were becoming merely dancing shows. Whosis Girls and Whatsis Girls were, figuratively speaking, bathing in the limelight while the prima donna was fortunate if she had a song or two. Beside I had other ambitions of far greater scope. The Philadelphia Civic Opera had offered me a guest performance as Michaela in Bizet's Carmen. That gracious invitation I could not accept if I were to continue in musical comedy. Emma Calvé, had warned me that singing eight times a week would ruin any voice. As I wanted to continue to sing I knew that I must conserve my voice. The best way to do this was to do as I am now doing. Then when a real musical opportunity comes I hope to be ready with my voice fresh and unimpaired. My dramatic work will make it all the more possible for me to sing. The strangest thing of it all is why there should be an "or," why it is that there has been so much ado because I have gone from musical comedy to drama. Why should one forbid the other? Francis Wilson has reminded me that the best actors have often made their start in musical offerings. As a matter of fact, he himself in his later years on the stage, was very successful in straight drama. Ina Claire, who also won her first laurels in musical comedy, recently said to me that graduates from the musical field handle themselves better on the stage than those who have not had that experience. E. L. Davenport, one of the greatest of tragedians, was wont to play in Douglas Jerrold's Black-Eyed Susan, with song and hornpipe dance, on one night and Hamlet the next. Nat C. Goodwin was trained in musical comedies for years before he became one of the best comedians on the American stage. That was also true of William H. Crane, David Warfield and many others of our prominent dramatic stars. In my case the musical training was unusually helpful for nearly every musical comedy in which I have appeared has been a complete play in itself. That training taught me breath control, modulation of the voice, proper intonation and rythmic values. In Candida all of these are absolute requisites. In the last act particularly, there are speeches of Candida's that are almost arias. There is nothing more fatal in dramatic work than the monotone. One should run the gamut of the scale in speech as well as in singing. The voice should convey thought through tonal modulation and rhythmic stress as well as through the words spoken. It was by such means that Bernhardt and Duse could enthrall auditors who knew not a word of the language spoken. An actor or actress must personate with the voice as well as with the expression of face and body. It was said of Wilberforce, the great English divine,-or was it Whitfield?— that he moved an old lady to tears with the manner in which he spoke the word, "Mesopotamia." He would have been a great actor. There is no better way to acquire this mastery of dramatic vocal expression than through singing. We must keep out of niches, avoid getting into a rut, cultivate the utmost versalility, if we would accomplish the greatest results on the stage. That is why I am playing in Candida. The old ways are the best ways after all and one should always strive to develop every possible phase of dramatic expression as did the great actors and actresses of by-gone days. Two Letters From Paris Pierre Loving and Glenn Hughes discuss JEHANNE D'ARC It is obvious that a production is an adventure in fusing a number of elements that may, or may not, have an esthetic value in themselves. Two things may always be reiterated when such a discussion arises. One is that the theatre is neither acting nor the play nor the scene. The other is that the spirit of the theatre is the spirit of eager adventurous play. Without that quality of élan, of courage, of exploration into the farthest possibilities of both life and the theatre, a production becomes either a piece or a bit of clever stage magic or an example of the virtuosity of the actor. The theatre, then, is made up of all these elements: Action, which is the very spirit of acting; words, which is the body of the play; line and color, which are the very heart of the scene; rhythm, which is the very essence of the dance. In Jehanne d' Arc, as produced in French at the Porte St. Martin by Norman Bel-Geddes, we are forced, almost against our will, to include the program notes which were aimed, it is clear, at the French public, unfamiliar with the achievements of the producer, the author and the chief mime. But the French audiences have in part misconcieved these notes. They have, to begin with, misconcieved Miss de Acesta's status as a playwright in the American theatre and for this, it is clear, nobody but the inventor of the program notes is at fault. Miss de Acosta, whatever her intentions may be, whatever projects she may have on foot, is no Countess de Noailles. The program notes misled the French critic who remarked between the acts on the opening night, with a twist of irony hovering about his lips "It seems that American literature has made no progress since Loie Fuller." Which is astonishingly suggestive, when one comes to think about it. Such a mistake can have only the most unhappy consequences, it seems to me and detracts from the true value of the play itself. Certainly no one will doubt that Miss de Acosta's Jehanne d'Arc is a praiseworthy attempt to recast in supple speech the legend of the French saint, to use only the nakedly essential word, to strip the story to its core. The author's aim seemed to be to yield us a play Greek in its general contours, at least insofar as it presupposes on the part of the audience, some contact with the original legend, not cold memory of the fact, but some emotional shock gathered, presumably, through religious feeling, reading, or a sense of sharing in the miracle of Joan, which is the heritage of almost every French man and Frenchwoman. Apparently the author believed that a spare eloquence would suffice to touch off the audience and perhaps kindle it to the pitch intended. But this did not happen. The house was unmoved, cold; not purged. And the reason for this was, I believe, that there was no life in the lines, no drama in the structure of the play. The empty eloquence interfered at every point; it clogged the acting; it cut the windpipe of what should have been a cumulative emotional effect in the theatre. For at some time in her life, (M. Joseph Delteil and Mr. Shaw are witnesses of the fact) Joan must have been a simple peasant girl before she was translated into a saint. She was human before she was divine. The Roman Catholic Church, no doubt, and almost every French schoolgirl who has heard of Joan, will attest to as much. The French schoolgirl may miss the halo for the plum-pelting hoydenish country girl, as M. Delteil pictures her, but she draws from her own conception an essence that is a little like life and which, in the light of Joan's subsequent mundane glory and sainthood, lifts her at moments far above humdrum living. At least she does not wholly collapse under her admiration, her worship, if you like; she doesn't suffer from a stroke of the Fortuny lighting system. This brings me naturally to Mr. Geddes, who has, I believe, wrought exceedingly well for Miss de Acosta and for the saint in Jehanne. In this Mr. Geddes was scrupulously loyal to the text. What he has learned from going to school to Max Reinhardt he has applied very deftly, and he has added not a little of something that is entirely himself. He esteems action, rhythm, line and color. Like Reinhardt, he has sought to bring the dance, through the rhythmic movement of the crowd, into the play. For the sake of the canonized Jehanne, one hazards, he resorted deliberately to a retarded tempo. The action, rhythm, line and color fulfilled themselves in the cathedral scene in which the altar is built up bit by bit directly in front of the eyes of the spectator. This was authentic drama, the goal which was, evidently, the suffusion of a religious feeling at the end. This was, I think, achieved. It was a drama without words. It needed no words. As for the rest, the pageantry was perhaps far too slowpaced, and this was felt more and more as the play progressed. By the time the last act was reached, the audience, finding no poignancy to cling to, simply lapsed into a sort of tired waiting, not knowing that it would have to wait in vain. The climax of the play and the evening had long ago been reached and passed. Mr. Geddes stopped the breach with his admirable lighting and his set. He even made shift to create drama where there was not the slightest trace. He showered strong light on Miss Le Gallienne in the hope that the audience would rise as one man and cry at the beauty of this Jehanne that was being fashioned on the stage, that it would forget the truth about Jehanne which it carried about sealed in its own private breast. The concentrated spotlight did no such thing, however; it cruelly picked out some of the virtues and all of the flaws that showed through Miss Le Gallienne's acting. That acting lacked an informing idea. It was inert and not half enough animated. No intelligent, clarifying point of attack was in evidence. One grants Miss Le Gallienne much charm. Her delivery, moreover, was good, if a trifle monotonous at times. She played the trial scene and the prison scene with a fine gust of feeling. On the whole, however, as I say, her conception glaringly lacked fibre. It is this laxness, this utter failure to think through the encrusted myth of Jehanne until she probed to its kernel -until she found at any rate some convincing figment of a Jehanne with which she fittingly could clothe herself so that Eva Le Gallienne might be highly invisible in that raiment —it is this, as much as anything, that marred her performance. Undoubtedly that performance had its high spots of vivid beauty. The acting went far above the play. Nevertheless the direction, if it had been sharper and more vigilant than it was, might have aided materially here, especially in the home-coming scene after the raising of the siege. Miss Le Gallienne showed her laxness of conception most at this stage of the play. She smiled a delicate sweet smile upon the cheering burghers of Demremy, and this smile, so reminiscent of the annual "sweet girl graduate," almost gave the poignard-blow to what she had built up in the trial and the prison scenes. Jehanne d'Arc at the Porte St. Martin was certainly a worthwhile adventure. If The Miracle, with its text by Vollmoeller, was worth putting on by Max Reinhardt, Jehanne d'Arc, by Mercedes d'Acosta may right well draw forth the highest efforts of Mr. Bel-Geddes, who is a scenic artist to reckon with.-[Pierre Loving BEL-GEDDES IN PARIS Early in the summer an extraordinary theatrical event took place in Paris, and no less a person than Norman BelGeddes was at the center of the disturbance. Taking a relatively unimportant play called Jehanne d'Arc, by Mercedes de Acosta, and placing the title role in the hands of Eva le Gallienne, Bel-Geddes built a production that should have created a strong impression among any civilized people. It seems, however, from what a casual observer could gather, that the persons most impressed were Americans. This in spite of the fact that the play was given in the French language and dealt with a supposedly popular French theme. I presume it is futile to inquire into the reasons for the lack of enthusiasm on the part of native Paris, but after a visit to several of the theatres where typical French productions were being shown, I came to the conclusion that the average theatre-goer in Paris is concerned least of all with The coronation scene in "Jehanne d' Arc," a noteworthy performance of the Paris summer season. scenery and costumes and lighting, in other words, with those items wherein Mr. Bel-Geddes shines. It may be that the French mind, with its celebrated brilliance, penetrates without effort the most subtle arrangement of externals and concentrates solely upon the core of dialogue. The above conclusion must surely be reached by anyone who visits that great shrine of theatrical art, the Comédie Française, for there, if anywhere in the world, one will find antiquated scenic ugliness and indifference toward lighting. To pass from French classicism to a Bel-Geddes production is to pass from the eighteenth century to the twentieth, but it is more than that: it is to pass from the physically dead to the physically alive, from dull routine to exciting creation. It is said that if Jehanne d'Arc were to be played in a natural, unadorned and undelayed manner it would last about three quarters of an hour. In the hands of Bel-Geddes it lasted two hours and did not drag. Such building up is nothing short of miraculous. It was accomplished in several ways: with light changes, with individual stage business, and especially with gorgeous pageantry. Groups of characters not only carried on effective pantomimic action related to the story; they composed and destroyed alternately the scenes. A permanent arrangement of steps and platforms formed the basis of all the scenes. This became in turn a market-place, a prison, a cathedral, and the metamorphoses took place before the eyes of the audience. In the most adroit manner conceivable, groups of guards with banners constructed a courtroom. At the end of the scene it melted away, and priests moved on, building a high altar as they took their places on the permanent levels. It was legerdemain with an artistic motive. I have never seen better illusion in the theatre than was obtained in this production. Effects of breadth and height were gained easily and surely. The stage of the Théâtre Porte St. Martin, where the play was performed, is of average or less than average dimensions, yet the moment the curtain was up the observer felt himself before a scene of tremendous proportions. The effect of breadth was gained principally by carrying the scene off into the wings instead of bringing it in, as is usually done. Depth and height were suggested, of course, by the skillfull arrangement of graduated levels and masses. The stage was extended into the auditorium in an unusual way, by three wedges that were decorative and at the same time harmonious with the plan of the inner stage. They led the eye in to the central playing space most subtly. The costumes, of which there was a great assortment, were astonishingly beautiful. Combined with the special lighting, produced by equipment brought from New York, they provided pictorial feasts which moved one to hyperbole. I cannot conceive of any stage pictures on a similar scale proving richer or more enchanting. Such a performance requires a play that is simple, a play based upon a familiar story and phrased simply. The eye must take precedence over the ear. Jehanne d'Arc is just such a play. Whether or not it is of value in itself, it has furnished America's most brilliant and fecund designer with material for a marvellous spectacle that should be seen in New York, where the dead weight of classicism is scarcely felt. Miss Le Gallienne has the gift, exceedingly rare among American actresses, of speaking good French. This fact allowed her to engage in the novel experience of playing to Paris audiences without the customary barrier of language. It can be imagined that she gave a winning and spirited interpretation of the great martyr. I could not help feeling that a more robust type would be more convincing in the part, but it is obvious that spiritual fire and compelling personality are more important in this case than purely physical qualities, and Miss Le Gallienne is not lacking in these. Her wistful, slight figure at least aroused pity and admiration, both necessary from the psychological point of view. On the whole, I believe that for Miss Le Gallienne and for Miss de Acosta the production was little more than a moderate success, whereas for Mr Bel-Geddes it was an achievement of the highest order. [Glenn Hughes. |