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Yankee Doodles... or Marsh's Aids

'"Like a dull actor now,
I have forgot my part, and I am out,
Even to a full disgrace."

—Shakespeare.

"I'll come no more behind your scenes, David, for
the silk stockings and white bosoms of your
actresses excite my amorous propensities."

—Samual Johnson.

"Not since the visit of the Old Vic has Wellington seen such a galaxy of stars as that which accompanied the British Commonwealth Theatrical Company. Pirandello was received everywhere, even grudgingly in the "Dominion," with applause; "Twelfth Night" was equally well praised. But perhaps the greatest talent was discovered in the final programme, Bernard Shaw's "The Devil's Disciple." The claim in the programme, that there would be no stars in the show, and that all roles would be frequently interchanged, proved a valid one, and Wellington was treated to such a display of acting as it has not seen in many a long evening. Comments on the outstanding members of the cast are in order.

"Hangman" Jim Hutchison, looking as though he had stepped straight from the pages of the "Newgate Calendar" (or Wisden's) reached his greatest height in the final scene. In the tense atmosphere,

"Ten to make, and a match to win," his bearing and demeanour, in the hour of his country's greatest need, would have disgraced Archie McLauren let alone George Bernard Shaw. His fringe sat him well, though we trembled for a moment lest his final cut had been a snick too late. But, as to the manner born, Mr. Hutchison carried his bat with aplomb and a straight face.

Bruce Hamlin, sartorially elegant as ever, was resplendent in a red bandanna, and was a little more fully clothed than when we saw him last in the "Golden Boy." He could, perhaps, have used his voice a little more forcefully in the mob scene, but Mr. Hamlin has always erred on the side of restraint.

In his role as city undertaker, Jeff Stewart looked and befitted his part like a glove. So did his black weeds; and his collar, were it made of the finest gossamer, could not have encircled his dainty cou more gracefully. His change of mien to an excited, shouting, bourgeois bohunkus in the final scene, was perfectly in keeping with the character he played. His command of voice continued to astonish us.

Mr. Hamlin and Mr. Stewart, reached their greatest strength in their final united gesture, a thing magnificently done, and of exquisitely moving intensity. We fancy we heard Peter Howell, at this time, singing softly off-stage, "Shall we gather at the river?"

In this Shavian play, wrested from the phantasmagoria of the playwright's turbulent, and somewhat misguided, mind, we regretted the absence of Mr. Curtin, owing we understand to a slight indisposition, It was, we are told, to have been his final performance, and no one was looking forward to it with more enthusiasm than we. However, we hasten to add his understudy, Mr. Cotton, more than found his feet in the part of Tommy Atkins, and, what little we saw of him, was more than adequate. He used his voice to greater effect than we have ever heard him do before. His action in the court scene, incisive, sharp, sudden (and owing something to Ngaio Marsh) was fraught with dramatic intensity. His grasp of the situation (and the chair) showed command of histrionic ability not reached by the rest of the cast at any stage. Might we remark, tentatively, that his costume matched his complexion most admirably, although the green touches were possibly overdone, and on Mr. Curtin would perhaps have been a little Hibernian.

We are afraid that Mr. Grant Mclnness slipped our attention, probably due to an obstruction in the shape of Miss Gibbs, but we noted his name, and look forward with whetted appetite and eager anticipation to his next appearance.

It would be invidious to single out any of the other members of the cast for closer attention, and for that reason perhaps the less said the better, save perhaps with two exceptions. Basil Henson was adequate. Brigid Lenihan was absent.

—"Bugs"