A Child at the Theatre When 1 was a child
I never niinded much about the Principal Boy being a lady dressed up as a man, though it struck me, as rather silly and 1 resented the inordinate amount of time which she and the Principal Girl wasted singing songs and goggling at each other. These interludes should in my view have been devoted to some more rewarding form of entertainment. I3' what I did feel strongly aboqt (and I suspect that there ard always juvenile dramatic critics who have this same bee io their bonnets) was the perfunctory performances given by some of the animal impersonators. Nana, and the lion-cub in Where the Rainbow Ends, and the cat in Dick Whittington could generally be relied on to interpret their important roll conscientiously; but some of the smaller parts—the wolves andthe rats and so on—hardly seemed to trouble to behave like animals at all. Later in life, cast as the lion in Androcles the Lion, I discovered how exacting the role of an energetic quadruped can be. As you scamper about on all fours the blood rushes to your head, which is encased in a mask oilc less stifling than a respirator, anti-gas, and much more dna to see out of; you feel rather like a deep-sea diver taking Part in an obstacle race. Ever since that, interesting production (whose all-star cast included Mr. Rupert Hart-Davis, Lard Hailsham and Mr. John Lehmann) I have felt less inclined to criticise those who have to impersonate animals, twice datiP throughout the Christmas holidays.
Previous page
