STAGE AND SCREEN
THE THEATRE
Non-Stop Vanities. At the Prince of Wales.
ONE is a little shy of recommending Mr. Esdaile's entertainments to strangers; they appeal to the sardonic taste which finds pleasure in the oddities of human enjoyment. From two till ten every day of the week the small hooves of the Dancing Vanities beat the boards, and the Glamour Lovelies as tall as grenadiers walk lazily with a slight sneer in at one wing and out at the other. Nothing ever disturbs the arrogant poise of these monumental lovelies ; whether they are parading through " Old Sunny Spain" or exposing themselves to an 18th century draught in " The Fairy Coach," their eyes remain as empty as statues. About halfway through there is always a set-piece with a motion- less nude—or near-nude. This time it is called " Garden of Glory "; some lady sings a song called " Beauty Unadorned " and there is a " Dance of Desire." These exotic mauve pieces are sandwiched with a little conjuring, some sentimental songs and the comedian's sketches. Some of these are a great deal better than usual because Mr. Gus Chevalier is visiting the Prince of Wales. Kindly, worried, twitching a little with apprehension of what is going to happen to him next, Mr. Chevalier has the patina of something that's weathered beautifully more than one war. He belongs to the finest music-hall tradition, and he seems a bit out of place among the jingling peroxided lovelies. But he goes his quiet way—always putting off till tomorrow what need not be done today, looking at every proposition all round and then choosing wrong, the perfect gentle white knight of variety.
GRAHAM GREENE.
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