Con Meets Pro

As always Madame Dronke's production was excellent, notably in the absence of the feelings one sometimes has that an amateur production has occurred by a (questionably) happy coincidence of actors, like the philosopher's Parthenon from odd bricks. This is largely to the credit of Madame Dronke—and not much to the Obey-Wilder—for "Lucrece" is a play entirely without idea. This is not to say it is devoid of ideas, and there are more than enough questions raised, but it lacks a theme. Even a thesis would have been better than nothing, but though two are suggested neither could be said to dominate, let alone be resolved by, the play. The germ of one is in the apostrophe to Opportunity (how unlike Shakespeare's fate in Romeo) and there is that directly argued by the two narrators that the importance of the tragedy is in its public aspect, but this comes too late in the play—it has somewhat the effect of an afterthought consequent on the playwright's own bewilderment at what he had so far produced. The female chorus is speaking for Lucrece as a woman, the male for Rome and history, by her actions, her being "a great lady in misfortune" Lucrece decides for history, but the curtain goes down on the male narrator deciding for the "poor bird."

This considered is theme and variation, with its pathetic and majestic overtones is pleasing, but in its last analysis a little pointless; we are left with no oneness of feeling—no sense of tragedy or history or anything of the sort, but only with the impression of having looked into a scrapbook of emotions and events.

The most unpleasing scene in the play is where Tarquin comes to Lucrece's bed. It is perhaps too much to hope for a rape in blank verse, and it is very likely the difficulty of escaping this scene that made Shake, speare reject the story for dramatic purposes. The situation in "Lucrece" is developed as far as decency will allow and then the curtain falls—this smacks of Hollywood both as technique and approach. It is a way out which would have been technically impossible for Shakespeare—and one asserts confidently, artistically so. Tarquin's lines are uninspired realism, devoid of any poetic suggestion, and remain very much on the level of a cinema sequence (one sees, we have implied, the censor hovering). It is reminiscent rather of the decadent Roman theatre than of genuine tragedy; to follow the Greek convention of keeping this sort of thing off the stage would be to irritate the audience less.

In justice to the actors involved, however, one must admit that they handled this utterly uninspiring scene magnificently. I say this with the reservation that our context is amateur acting. Terry Baylor as Tarquin was excellent, despite the particular banality of his lines, but Robin King's Lucrece was superb, and indeed she acted throughout the whole with restraint and feeling (she has gained in the former virtue since her Cleopatra) that produced an exquisite characterisation.

The technical usefulness of the narrators depends absolutely on the effectiveness of manner of the persons playing them, and [unclear: in] (and [unclear: part] from a certain incomprehensibility and scrambledness in Maureen Roes-Smith's opening Shakespeare), one can have very little to complain at Once warmed to her work she gave a performance equal to her majestic Voluminia (which in default of ever seeing a contemporary immortal in it, we are inclined to take as definitive) and John MacDonald was in no measure put to shame. The excellent balance of these two most competent players was one of the remarkable things in the production. They were luckier in their lines than the others (even poorish rethoric is better than nothing) but it is an indication of their ability that they could utter such horrors as—"a sinister suitor to have about the house" and still remain convincing.

Paul Treadwell's Collatine was sympathetic, especially in the short sccene where he consoles Lucrece, but lacked variation, either within itself or from his other parts—it is to be hoped that he is not cast as a Roman a third time. He is usually at his best in contemporary drama. Bruce Hamlin as Brutus was inclined to enjoy himself a little too much for the entire comfort of the audience. The comic soldiers and the giggling girls were both in their own kind effective, though how much Mr. Curtin would have fetched in the slave market would have depended largely on the price of bread (not to mention circuses). He would have been more economical to support than Valenus.

P.A.E.