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A Memory and a Book

I saw the curtain make its final fall and I felt the melancholy air that bade farewell to the players. Scarce had the last voice spoken when the romance and the glamour that gave life to the temple fell like a cast off cloak, leaving only a heap of painted canvas and rough hewn timbers. It was as if the spirit of the stage had died and all that was left to us was this empty husk.

So must it always be; for the show lives only when the footlights gleam and the strains of music come thickly through the murmur of the peopled hall, and the tensed faces loom hazy out of the darkness—with eyes that watch the players weave their subtle make-believe of tangled plots and gay romance.

But I must tell my story—I must not dwell upon regrets, but live again, the days of "Baby Bliss" and the gay courts of "Sheba," and of those gentlemen of "Unquestioned Righteousness" who tried to solve the mystery of the "Poisoned Mind."

Back to me come recollections of Mice and Magii, of the physic atmosphere of that Investigation Committee, whose only reply was "We are out of touch," and the Karitane Nurse who invoked the shade of Euripides, while a devastating "Medea" in red claimed kinship with another planet. I can still see the Oracle who came forth from the Temple, and the "Patriarchial Parasites" whose

Beards are white,
And shed at night,
A dim religious light.

Such sights and sounds still live in the corridors of memory and their recall is tinged with the mingled sweet and sad that is felt when thoughts of past joys are awakened.

There was a book too—that held much strange knowledge between its covers. A portion of it was devoted to a programme of the Revue, and the rest ranged far and wide, from an invitation to the "Waitangi Razzle" to a course on the art of playing the "Gazoo." But of this I will say more in a moment.

I now propose to offer an opinion on the actual plays themselves, and make some small criticism of what seemed to me to be weaknesses, as well as to offer praise of their particular excellences.

There is no doubt that the general impression created by the performance was favourable, though I am inclined to think it was perhaps rather long-it seems to me that a production is better appreciated if it can be brought to a close with the audience still eager for more, and yet satisfied with the thought that they have been given a good entertainment.

Another question that comes to mind is whether the Revue should be presented as a single play, or as a series of two or three shorter plays. Of the alternatives, it seems as if the latter is probably the more satisfactory, since the type of entertainment usually offered has in it a definite element of the burlesque, and the enjoyment of this can best be maintained by a continual variation of the theme. A study of the method adopted in any of the successful musical plays seems to demonstrate clearly that when length of performance is desired, the element of burlesque must be carefully controlled.

The actual structure of the type of play suitable for Revue production is also a matter of some interest. From an examination of a number of typical College Revues it was found that they could be divided into three main classes; the play that has been constructed similar to a given model, the play that endeavours to be pure burlesque, without any particular attempt to follow a plan, and the play that is simply a parody. I think It will be generally admitted that the last two types of play are unsatisfactory, for not only do they restrain the individuality of the writer, but they detract greatly from the artistry that serves to page 117 create that balance between humour and pathos which so intensifies the appreciation of the audience.

Space will not permit a discussion of the actability of any particular play, nor is it possible here to go into details concerning methods of production. These questions have often been aired by those in contact with the activities of Dramatic Societies, so that I will not try to add further to the fruits of their labours.

The 1934 Revue offered two short plays entitled "Sheba" and "Murder in the Common Room," and a longer musical play entitled "Medea and Soda."

I think that of these plays "Murder in the Common Room" was the one I appreciated the most, both from the point of view of the original treatment of the theme, and of the artistic nature of the ending. The play was well staged, the cast suited to their respective parts, and the continuity was beautifully preserved throughout the two scenes.

The first scene was perhaps a little faulty. It seemed as if the characters were made to adhere too closely to something impersonal. I mean to say, they seemed to lack that smoothness that comes from a satisfactory backgrounding of ideas, and hence they behaved as if they were thinking mechanically.

The second scene, however, was a very finished piece of work indeed. The characters were definitely more than mere puppets. They were living, and they carried their ideas forward powerully to a conclusion that was not an ending, but the beginning of a tale of a blind and helpless groping for something out of reach.

The satire of the play was very well handled. It was not directed at persons so much as at institutions, and some of its keener shafts were tinged with humour in that delicate way that seems to lay open the weakness of the opponent's armour and let the barb sink deeper.

The major play of the series, "Medea and Soda," was another excellent example of "Laughter with a moral in it," though at times the inner meaning of the play was rather obscure. I cannot yet tell where its chief virtue lay. Perhaps it was in its quaint mixture of "Politico-Classics," or its "Modern Antiquity," or in the finished performance of the players. But I think it is only fair to say that all three of these factors played theit parts and the enjoyment of the audience came from the play's "Harmonious Heterogeny."

It might be suggested by way of criticism that perhaps the first act was too complete in itself, and this made one feel as if parts of the second act could almost have been left out, without a great deal of harm being done. But all the same, it was undeniable that its tale of "Senile Sophistry" was entertainment of a high order.

Another point upon which I would like to make an observation is that there seemed to be a tendency for the purely dramatic, and the musical sides of the play to stand apart from each other. The fault here manifested, if fault there be, cannot be traced to any one group of circumstances, but it seems desirable that all the elements of a play should be blended in order to make it a complete unit. However, these criticisms are not intended to be destructive, but are rather an attempt to examine some impressions of the Revue which still remain with me.

The music was well suited to the play and the ballets splendidly arrayed-particularly that of the "Patriarchial Parasites" in the second act, which was a really brilliant piece of burlesque. I think that perhaps the words of the songs could have been improved upon a little, but even as it was I found them most enjoyable, and declare that they served well to heighten the jollity.

The opening play of the show was entitled "Sheba." It presented another aspect of "Modern Antiquity," and in many respects was all that could be desired as an example of the successful application of an historical background as a vehicle for humorous allusion to a number of modern problems. I do not propose to make any comments either upon the actors or the production, except to say that both adequately presented an able interpretation of the theme.

It might be said of the play itself that a variation of the emphasis on certain of the situations, and of the rapidity of the unfolding of the story, would have made it even more enjoyable than it was. But this could only be decided by an actual trial, so that the criticism is offered with some reserve.

There is really no need for me to speak about the Capping Book. The manner in which it was received by a legion of readers is surely ample proof of its success. I must admit that I enjoyed page 118 every word of it—even the "Woosie Woosie." It was, in every respect, a most successful type of book, and if future numbers are based on the same plan, I think that they too will be equally well received.

Before we leave the play, we must remember those unseen actors who walked like sprites amid the backstage gloom and made possible the rapid changing world of make believe, and those whose magic fingers turned the mundane coloured cloths of trade into garments of Greece and Rome and Babylon.

A last memory must we recall; and that is of the Orchestra, whose gallant work contributed so much to the success of the show. Sometimes we seem to forget this little band, and do not always realise how big is the task that falls to them. They are the ones who make the bow when the curtain quivers ere the show begins, and bear the story down the acts, on wings of melody, till all the words are spoken and the footlights fade amid their farewell notes.

And so too must I also bid farewell to the past. I was part of it once, and I tasted of its cup. I have tried to recall its bitter and its sweet, but only a few faint memories linger of—

"Comic, tragic, and compromising."

—H.