DM I DETECT a note of acerbity in the voices
of the old-established BBC 'Critics,' sparring last Sunday with a newcomer to the panel—John Barber? Mr. Barber is the theatre critic of the Daily Express. It is only recently that Lord Beaverbrook—moved, apparently, by a desire to assist the poor old BBC in its war against commer- cial television—has encouraged members of the staffs of his newspapers to broadcast; and the older egghead critics, I felt, were regarding Mr. Barber as something that had come up from under a stone. How unfair! John Barber is a critic of king experience and perceptiveness; so perceptive, in fact, that a couple of years ago he was able to review a performance that he had not, apparently, been able to attend. It was a charity midnight matinee, as I recall; and Mr. Barber, after saying some unkind things—doubtless deserved—about most of the other performers, praised the 'glorious' singing of Alfred Drake. Alfred Drake had not, as it happened, been able to sing that night, owing to a throat infection. Mr. Barber, too, has been quick to notice (when none of his colleagues have noticed) the brilliance of the performance of some new, untried small-part player, or soubrette, who has never been heard of before. His colleagues unkindly allege that few of these performers are ever heard of again; but what of that? Mr. Barber has given each one of them a treasured press cutting; and he has given the other actresses in the play .something to talk about. The ingenuity, too, with which Mr. Barber has contrived to write his criticisms in time for the early editions of his paper has long excited his colleagues' envy. Their papers, curiously, go to press before the curtain is down—in some cases, even before it is up.
Previous page
