THE THEATRE.
LONDON'S GRAND GUIGNOL.—LITTLE THEATRE. Ow Monday I went to the Grand Guignol at the Little Theatre. We have already dealt with the general aspects of this new enterprise, but since then there has been an outcry against the alleged impropriety of one of the episodes, G.H.Q. Love, and two new playlets have been introduced. Aware of the blushes of my colleagues of the Press, I scrutinized G.H.Q. Love with great attention, with the idea that perhaps my original estimate of its harmless character had been wrong. Tho revision did nothing but confirm me in my previous opinion. In G.H.Q. Love we have a little play which shows the sordid and petty side of the so-called "life of pleasure." We are accustomed, even on the English stage, to see that life dressed out with all the possible grace that can be imparted to forbidden fruit. In G.H.Q. Love the bloom is off. The life is ordinarily tricked out with all the attractiveness that lights, dance rhythms, beautiful clothes, and beautiful women can give it. Here there is DO glamour, but poverty, avarice, deceit, and pettiness, and here and there a spoken, a condemnatory, word is substituted for the usual wink. I fail utterly to understand the state of mind of the people who object to it ; some of the songs at the Coliseum on Saturday night, perhaps, but G.H.Q. Love—no ! The whole Grand Guignol performance struck me as one of the most spirited evening's entertainments that I have ever seen. The Hand of Death and The Medium were as horrid and as hair-raising as heart could wish ; it was difficult to keep your seat. Mr. Maltby's What did her Husband Say ? is inimitably brisk and funny, and the little revue Oh, Hell as light-hearted and absurd as could be. I think it would be difficult to find a more attractive way of spending an evening than by going to the Little Theatre. Miss Sybil Thorndike, Miss Dorothy Minto, Mr. Russell Thorndike, and Mr. Bealby are certainly four of the best contemporary actors, each in their way, and Miss Sybil Thonadike in all ways. The Grand Guignol performance reminded me of a house-party of clever people who were determined to enjoy themselves. At all costs the company means to make your hair stand on end, or your tears of helpless laughter flow. The intimate setting of the Little Theatre adds very much to the charm of the evening. Miss Sybil Thomdike's and Mr. Bealby's ver- satility makes the spectator rub his eyes. Miss Thorndike, for example, impersonates a woman of the streets, an ingenue, a clairvoyant artist's model and a sort of musical comedy iteffragette in turn, each with the most finished characterization.
TARN.
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