The Play's the Thing

A change now and then is good for anybody. This also applies to amusements of all sorts. It seems fairly obvious that an undiluted diet of super-collosal talkies and high-class radio talent would soon pall if it were not for the so-called lower forms of entertainment. Of course, the best thing to bring to a theatre or amusement hall is an open mind. If you go there ready to see and criticise the acting you won't get half as much fun as if you went there merely to get your money's worth. The play's the thing. This was my impression of the play reading held at the gym. on Friday night. The play was a good one—a thriller—"Murder on the Second Floor," by Frank Vosper. By the way, Frank Vosper himself was the star performer in a real homicide mystery—from what I heard, he jumped overboard from a cross Channel steamer during a party at which he was a guest. This was the first real play reading I had ever attended and it struck me as rather odd to see the actors gushing forth passion and action and indulging in all sorts of theatricalism, and all the time hold on to their books for dear life, keeping their Noses stuck into them most of the time. Yet the acting was realistic. It had verisimilitude. Being a play reading, too much was not expected, so perhaps the audience left their critical faculties behind and saw only the finer parts. The whole thing was very interesting and very well acted. A good story . . . narrated by a young playwright to his sweetheart, featuring the people of the house in which they are living. A murder is committed. Suspicion is thrown on everybody in succession. The cast includes the traditionally stupid police inspector and the brilliant know-all amateur. It turns out that the her tine's father does the dirty . . . so the amateur has to forego his triumph for love's sake, which he does by allowing the police to pin the crime on to Lucy who, happily for all concerned, committed suicide before the murder was committed.

Quito a large percentage of the fun came from unrehearsed effects. At one stage the house was literally brought to its feet at the night of . . . (ask somebody who was there!).