SIGNOR RUGGERI
f" HAMLET," BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE-IN ITALIAN-. GLOBE THEATRE.]
IT is the business of the dramatic critic to be well informed about the theatre, but one cannot know everything, and I must confess it is not within my knowledge what exact position Signor Ruggeri (who has been seen in London before in Pirandello plays) occupies in the artistic life of his country. Gossip has been busy with a fantastic tale. On this occasion, it is alleged, he comes with a Mission. He is represented, in fact, as Signor Mussolini's " Art Ambassador " whatever that dark saying may mean. For my part, I care nothing for this buzzing of Soho tongues. What matters is that here is an actor—and more than a mere actor, a sensitive artist—of the highest quality,. who is no more like the average Italian actor, either in method or in appearance than Stockholm is like Florence. I do not drag in Stockholm just for the fun of the thing, but with a deliberate purpose. There is a Scandinavian quality, an intellectual force, about Signor Ruggeri which is wholly arresting. The most Italian thing about him is his beautiful voice. If he were dispossessed of his body that alone would make almost any play intelligible, even to me who know as little of the Italian language as a cat knows of Morris-dancing. I am no disparager of our own people in favour of the foreigner, but let us face the facts. With two exceptions (and one of them, alas ! is too often side-tracked into foolish empty plays) we have no actor on the London stage to be the equal of this welcome visitor from Italy. Mr. Ainley alone has the voice and personality. Mr. Claude Rains, perhaps, the dazzling virtuosity, but no one else. And neither of them has ever tried Hamlet. Signor Ruggeri's Prince is a noble, intellectual, very restrained piece of acting, full of humanity, full of light and shade, and in lyric power the equal of any performance I have ever seen on the stage. Perhaps he looks a dozen years too old, but what his attractive, rather whimsical face, loses in the appearance of youth is repaid by the exquisite poetry of his hands. It is only when one comes across an actor of Signor Ruggeri's quality that one begins to wonder what our English actors—Mr. Ainley again excepted—are up to with their hands. It was a relief to find a Hamlet with fair hair—who has ever seen a Dane with the raven-black locks demanded by stage convention ?—but I was a little worried by what appeared to be the royal football boots. This eccentricity must be a curious tradition of the Italian theatre, for all the male members of Signor Ruggeri's admirable company were similarly booted. The production, chiefly a matter of simple curtains and soft draperies, was interesting and strangely beautiful. It was also commendably un- orthodox. Except for the little matter of the football boots, Signor Ruggeri is evidently a bit of a rebel in the theatre Some may feel that he has taken too many liberties with the text. The whole of the first ghost scene, for instance, was cut, the curtain rising on the assembled court. This was not at all ineffective, but I felt that a little of the necessary " atmos- phere " had been lost. On the other hand, Ophelia's mad scene was played in a bright, sunny garden and moved me, in consequence, by force of contrast more than it has ever done before ; nor will anyone quarrel with Signor Ruggeri's effective staging of the final climax. The graveyard scene was played in the traditional English manner ; it was interest- ing to note how effective its rich Elizabethan fruitiness sounded in melodious Italian cadences. The line about the madness of Englishmen brought a wholesome roar of applause from such of us, chiefly Italians, who had gathered together in a sadly empty house, but what we lacked in numbers we atoned for by our enthusiasm. Let no English people be scared away from the Globe Theatre by the solemn words " In Italian." Of Hamlet, at all events, you will understand every word, provided you have a slight acquaintance with the play. Nay, more. So perfect is the elocution of these players that I, without knowing Italian, could have sat in my seat and taken down almost every word in shorthand. Some of my learned eolleagues have described the company as " undistinguished." One remembers Miss Fay Compton's tender Ophelia of last year. For the rest I can only say that I have never seen the parts of King, Queen, Polonius and Laertes so well fitted. And I would particularly commend the ghost of Signor
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