CONTEMPORARY ARTS
THE THEATRE
Plays for the Holidays
OF the 3o-odd productions (apart from pantomimes and Christmas revivals) now running in the West End I have seen only about zo: so I cannot claim to offer comprehensive guidance. But it may be that some readers of The Spectator would welcome a few random and tentative words of advice on the subject of theatre-going during the holidays : so here goes, beginning with the musicals.
It is sheer waste of newsprint to recommend Oklahoma ! or Annie Get Your Gun, but don't let their dazzling redarne blind you to the solid British attractions of Bless the Bride. Mr. Sid Field's Piccadilly Hayride, now nearing the end of its long run, is good rich fare but, fond as I am of the Hales, I cannot praise One, Two, Three very highly. Tuppence Coloured, on the other hand, is brilliant, and so in a rather more astringent way is Sweetest and Lowest.
The funniest play I know of is Present Laughter, though I haven't seen it without Mr. Coward in the lead; and The Chiltern Hundreds is very well spoken of. Life with Father I thought disappointing, as American plays done by an English cast often are. Outrageous Fortune revives the genial tradition of Aldwych farce (though the Aldwych itself houses Mr. Redgrave's Macbeth, not seen by me and not much liked by my colleagues) and in Off the Record Messrs. Ian Hay. and Stephen King-Hall revert breezily to the Navy mixture as before. To either of these plays I personally prefer All Over the Town, which deals deftly and good-humouredly with real people and some of the .problems of today. Two excellent revivals are Mr. Shaw's You Never Can Tell, which wears extraordinarily well, and The Taming of the Shrew ; Mr. John Burrell's superb production of the Old Vic Company in this normally uninspiring comedy makes admirable entertainment and would, I think (though this is a highly dangerous subject on which to prophesy) amuse most children.
Among the more serious plays, it would be a mistake to miss Mr. Alec Guinness as Richard II, though the production is not up to the standard of the acting. Edward, My Son is very good indeed, and I am told on excellent authority that Mr. Priestley's The Linden Tree and Mr. Bridie's Dr. Angelus are both, in their different ways, first rate. You couldn't call Happy as Larry a serious play but you couldn't, on the other hand, put it in the same category as Outrageous Fortune • it is an Irish fantasy of an indescribable but enchanting kind and it was one of the best things I saw in 1947. Anna Lucasta is a strong but highly unoriginal drama acted by an accomplished negro cast, and Private Enterprise is vigorous but not very persuasive pamphleteering by Mr. St. John Ervine. There is also a revival of St. Joan, on which the only comment I can make with propriety is that, unless you have already got seats, you have— as far as these holidays are concerned—more or less had it.
PETER FLEMING.
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