THE THEATRE.
THE MARIONETTE PLAYERS.
" THE SLEEPING BEAUTY " AT THE SCALA.
To use marionettes instead of human beings upon a stage is to make the drama free of a further gamut of emotions.
Without the human presence of actors to recall us to the well-trodden ring which surrounds the tether of the real and the possible, we are free, if not of the world, at least of quite a considerable meadow. The actor in a play ties us to the human scale, physically and emotionally. His dignity is almost as much a tether as his muscular limitations and his size. The theatrical producer cannot (in Dr. Johnson's phrase) " invigorate us with a giant and a dwarf." An actor cannot submit his head to be cut off nor—without a vast machine—fly through the ceiling, nor can we even be sure that face, voice and skill will all accord.
The emotional scale is even more insistent and ultimately makes all sorts of themes, motives, and symbols lose their effect on the stage and seem flimsy and niggling. To take a rather crude example : in a poem or a novel a man could perfectly well philosophize over a daisy. Tennyson did it in one of his most successful poems. In a play about Tennyson the episode could not be used because we should get, not as we should in the poem or in the cinema, a l4 close up " of the daisy, but either Tennyson with a sun- flower or Tennyson apparently talking to his own finger. The emphasis would be all on the man's bulk, and his frail, pretty symbol, and its light running philosophy would, by contrast with such a solid thing, seem maudlin and petty. Fantasy is often cramped on the stage and crowded by sheer human bulk. Consider A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Tempest.
Very properly the greater part of the repertoire of the Teatro dei Piccoli consists of fantastic comedy and light opera. Such productions as La Serva Padrona and The Tempest, with Gluck's and Purcell's music, stand to gain a great deal from marionettes. I told Dr. Podrecca how much we in London were looking forsiard to his production of The Tempest (a bad but careful joke about a storm in a teacup foundered with all hands, incidentally, as he speaks little but Italian). He came at once to the point : " Ah, Ariel What a delicious puppet " The character of Ariel is a snare to the human dramatic company. But it is the marionettes' opportunity. The performance of the Teatro dei Piccoli is as much for the listener as for the looker-on, a fact that was not duly considered on the first night, when talking among the audience was incessant. But perhaps this was a little the fault of the choice of opera. Neither Signor
Gian Bistolfi's text nor Signor Respighi's music were inter- esting enough to keep us quiet in the face of the novelty of the puppets. Their gestures, their movements, their little, speaking faces are fascinating beyond words, and the whim- sical skill of the manipulators immense. There were many moments of great beauty in the little opera. One was when a beautiful, incredibly svelte green-legged ballet dancer with a skirt of pink roses danced at the Princess's christening. Another was when the King, her father, pronounced the edict against spinning and a troupe of little twirling bobbins were herded away across the back of the stage into banish- ment. A third was when the three grotesque public mourners are summoned to " do their duty " ; and another when enormous bloated spiders spin their webs across and across until the sleeping Court are lost to sight. In the actual colour-schemes and costumes I was a little disappointed. The sketches that hang in the vestibule are admirable, but in the execution colours seem to have too often lost their purity and to be too often mingled at haphazard. The good fairies were terribly worthy and platitudinous ladies both in look and deed, for instance. However, the little throw- back of the head and quiver of the whole frame which a top note produced in the Blue Fairy reconciled one to many shortcomings. Besides, I fancy she may be possessed of a good deal of sensibility and take an adverse Press cutting too much to heart, so I will do no more than praise her charming voice. I hope that Cay. Fidora and Dr. Podrecca will give us a frequent change of programme and will not settle down to anything approaching a run till they have found out which play or opera of their large repertoire pleases London most. Above all, I hope they will continue to give us the variety show. The élan and verve of the little black man
with the slack rope were unsurpassable. TARN.
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