17 AUGUST 1934, Page 13

STAGE AND SCREEN The Theatre

"Sour Grapes." By Vincent Lawrence. At the Apollo Theatre.—"Admirals All." By Ian Hay and Stephen King-Hall. At the Shaftesbury 'Theatre FOR general improbability (one could almost say silliness) there is little to choose between these two plays. Mr.

Lawrence's quartet bears as little resemblance to the inhabit-

ants of Sunningdale (nee Long Island) as the gallant officers' amphibious adventurers" bear to the personnel of the Royal Navy and the Metro-Goldwyn studios. Moreover, the leading feminine role in each play is interpreted by a genuine American film-star. But there the resemblance ends. Mr. Lawrence is a serious playwright, interested in important subjects, with a fine sense of the theatre and a certain sense of pattern. And he is witty ; his wit comes naturally from the situations and dialogue. We may not believe in his characters for a second, but we are forced to believe in him. He has a sense of the stage very similar to Mr. Coward's, and his dialogue has something of the same quick brilliance ; a hack- neyed situation treated paradoxically, a shrewd use of the unexpected, a third act spun out of nothing by a super-subtle spider ; an opportunity for a good actor to play a good scene : these hold the attention and stimulate the mind.

The theme of Sour Grapes is an old one. Must love die ? Must familiarity breed contempt, or at best a tolerant kindli- ness? And if love has once died can it be rekindled ? These are the questions that Mr. Lawrence sets himself and lightly debates in public, almost as though he were attempting to clarify his own ideas. His conclusion is no conclusion, though he makes a show of supplying a satisfactory answer to the third of his questions. The trouble is that the characters are not true to any living type, English or American. They are in fact scarcely human, and have existence only as mouth- pieces for debating points. They are, however, extremely well presented. Mr. Nicholas Hannen and Mr. Roger Livesey give first-rate performances, faultless in characterization and in timing. Miss Constance Cummings is very beautiful to look at, and her acting has a good, clear-cut quality. The only fault to be found with her performance is that her appearance makes her husband's indifference to her almost inexplicable. The play has been suitably anglicized and Mr. Bean Levy's production is smooth and easy.

Admirals All is a very different affair. Here is neither it, nor subtlety, nor intelligence, nor surprise. What passes for humour is a deal of boisterous backchat, larded with irrelevant anecdotes and metaphorical banana-skins. Par the best joke is supplied by a flag-lieutenant, who in reply to the Admiral commanding the China Squadron's question, "What is chop-suey ? " replies, "I fancy, Sir, it's Chinese for haggis." This witticism (caviare to the Admiral ?) almost stopped the play on the second night, so heartily was it appreciated. The audience was in fact uproarious throughout, and this omen of almost certain popularity raises interesting questions. Are the authors (unlike Matthew Arnold) always wholly serious in their efforts to please, or are they giving the public's elephantine leg a gigantic pull ? It is difficult to believe that they have not intended a reductio ad absurdum of the elements of successful toshery. Here at any rate they all are : a scene in Hollywood ; a film star in pyjamas ; a cretinous, bellowing, lecherous Admiral of the Fleet ; a Chinese temple ; bandits and kid- napping ; only the saxophones and the crooner are lacking. It must be difficult to purge a comedy of every possible originality, to exclude every chance of surprise or excitement. But this has been rigorously done. An idiotic prologue is introduced in order to explain away laboriously the only surprise the three succeeding acts could contain. It is as though two weary and disappointed chefs had despaired of trying to tempt the English diner to eat a souffle and had served him instead with the heavy, fluffy omelette which he prefers. As an example of what the British public will swallow, this play has decided theoretic interest ; as an evening's entertainment it does not exist.

RUPERT HART-DAVIS.