' ROOTS '
SIR,—Seldom is one not entertained by Alan Brien's criticism and rarely does one quarrel with his opinions, but he seems to have been blinded by the art of Joan Plowright in Roots without recognising the lack of it in the pen of Arnold Wesker. Two highspots in three acts does not make a good play when there is little dramatic impact in the writing. In the last act only does Mr. Wesker use his characters as a force and he is then at his best.
Miss Beatie Bryant is a gem as Joan Plowright : she is human and as large as life, yet all her brilliant contrivance could make little of many lines because the re- maining characters lacked substance. With better direction John Dexter might have improved matters; but he should learn the difference between a pause when the audience is in suspense and one where nothing is happening to anyone.
Roots is in the same genre as Live Like Pigs because, quite bluntly, the authors think that it is sufficient to actually fry liver and onions on the stage (they spare us nothing) to demonstrate the virtues (or vices) of the working classes! But this is not art and as one who has spent years in village life, observing the zest, wit, sim- plicity (and violence) of country folk and ardently working to stimulate the torpid ones, I still await the new play of our English country scene which has power, literary value and probes beneath the skin. The material is there, though Mr. Wesker appears not to have found it for here he is, in my opinion, unconvincing and not provocative enough.—Yours faithfully,
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