THE THEATRE.

THE NEW YORK STAGE OF TO-DAY.

TIAD only a week in New York, so that I did not see all the plays that I ought to have seen, nor all that I wanted to see. It is difficult to get seats there at short notice, and moreover, this way is a great drain on the purse. In general, it struck me that theatres are more expensive in New York than in London, and this, I believe, is actually so. Certainly, after one has paid an agent's commission on top of the printed price of the seat it is so. And since nearly all the seats are in the bands of agents, the theatre box-offices are practically useless. A good deal of the difficulty of getting seats is real. Take, for example, Mr. Alaugham's play, Rain, which I did not see. I was told by the theatre and the agents alike that there was not a seat to be had for six weeks. A friend of mine, by going at the last moment, found a single seat one night. But he was asked $16.00 (13 10s.) for it. On the other hand, a good bit of the difficulty is quite bogus. There seems to be some policy of inflation going on. The first time I tried to go to the Moscow Art Theatre the agent at my hotel could get me nothing. With great difficulty he managed to get expensive stalls for the next night. Yet agree solid rows behind me were empty all the evening. By making a great fuss, apparently, they hope to give the impres- sion that the play is popular, and so create a demand for seats. But why they should prefer not to sell them I cannot think. This method, I am told, is not peculiar to the Moscow Art Theatre. A friend, after spending an entire afternoon going from theatre to theatre in search of seats for a matin6e two days later, finally returned to the first theatre she had tried. Again she was told there was nothing. "Look here," said she, "I am a New Yorker, not a Middle Westerner, and this won't do. I want three seats for Wednesday afternoon, and I want them at once." "All right," said the attendant, snd handed out the tickets.

On the whole, it is a very good season. The actual quantity of theatres seems to increase steadily. There are a great number of plays running profitably, and a great variety. Of course, the majority is slop of one sort or another, just as in London. Yet there seems to be a larger proportion of worth while productions there than here at the present time. The Theatre Guild has two productions going, neither of which I managed to see but which are attracting considerable intelli- gent attention. They are Peer Gynt and R.U.R., the latter of which is soon to be produced in London. There have been several Shakespeare productions on, as well as the Moscow Art Theatre, the Chauve Souris, &c. Loyalties is being widely discussed and attended, and Will Shakespeare, minus the visionary "fade-outs," and with Miss Haidee Wright, is being a great success.

The first play I went to was Pirandello's Six Characters in Search of an Author, which I believe the Stage Society has done here. This is too" highbrow " a play ever to be popular, yet it seems to have had a fairly good run in New York. If one can judge, however, by the comments heard around one, much of the subtlety of the play went quite over the heads of the audience. The brilliant satire, the psychological intricacy of the play were largely lost, and in the presentation of a poignant dramatic situation worthy of an Elizabethan the average member of the audience saw only something very unpleasant. The play was extraordinarily well acted and produced.

The next night I went to see the Moscow Art Theatre. It was unfortunate that I could not see the Chehov plays, because I feel that as plays they are better than Gorky's The Lower Depths, which I saw. Gorky's play tends to give each actor one fine scene, and so produces a slightly spotty effect. But I am thankful to have seen even this. I have, during my life, seen a few individual bits of acting which came up to what I saw in quantity at the Moscow Art Theatre ; but the amazing thing about this group of players is the fact that they are all equally excellent and versatile and consistently so. They have approached their work with intensity and the plays with reverence. Thus they have produced a real art of acting. In their hands the characters they portray come alive. not only as parts in a play, but in the round as they were conceived in the mind of the author. They seem to have

real existence outside of the play. So much was I impressed with this feeling that, although I could understand not one word that was uttered, I experienced a sense of guilt at thus shamelessly peering into these people's hearts and lives.

After such an experience, I can perhaps be forgiven if I seem too critical of Miss Jane Cowl's performance in Romeo and Juliet. This is the only Shakespeare running at the present time. Mr. John Barrymore's Hamlet, with Mr. . Robert Edmond Jones's decor, which has been the " sensation " of the

present season had, unfortunately, come to an end when I got

to New York. Miss Ethel Barrymore had been doing Juliet, but it must have been a pretty dreary performance. I heard

not one person, professional critic or otherwise, who had a kind word to say for it. On the other hand, every voice in the city seems to be raised in a paean of rhapsodic praise of Miss Cowl's performance. Yet I venture to feel that my disap- pointment was not sheer perversity. First of all, one who is used to taking his Elizabethans straight, in other words, as performed by the Phoenix, must inevitably resent an expur- gated production. In this case, it meant that practically the whole of the Nurse's part was removed, together with various scenes which lend a heightening contrast for the romance of the play and its tragedy. As thus produced, not only is one of Shakespeare's most delightful characters distorted and deprived of her birthright, but the key of the whole play is pitched on such a different and monotonous key that it seems more like a popular sentimental play, to which the author

eccentrically gave an unhappy ending, than like a great tragedy. It meant, too, that Miss Cowl was largely relieved

of doing any acting. When this was necessary, she tended to tear her hair and overdo it all generally. The balcony scene, in particular, was relatively unconvincing. However, Miss Cowl was very charming to look upon in the excellent

costumes provided for the production. In general, the settings were very good, if slightly commonplace, but the

design of the balcony scene seemed to me rather a dismal failure. I confess to a predilection for the simple approxima- tion to the Elizabethan stage used by the Phoenix.

On another night I went to see the new programme of the Chauve Souris, which is enjoying an extended run at the Century Roof. This tiny theatre has been completely decor- ated in the Chauve Souris manner, and even the ushers have been put in Russian peasant costume. In the foyer, Russian paintings are on exhibition and Russian handicrafts on sale.

New York, you see, is just having its Russian vogue. As to the Chauve Souris itself, Nikita Balicff is as amusing as ever,

and the new turns, which have been seen neither in Paris nor London, are well up to standard. The Wooden Soldiers and Kafinka remain the favourites, however.

I am afraid that I was not wholly in the mood for the Music Box Revue. I was credibly informed that it was the best show

of its kind in New York, but I was not entirely happy about it.

In the first place, I found when I got there that most of the people in the cast were ones against whom I have cherished unreasonable prejudices for years. Consequently, I was not moved to mirth by those quips and pranks which brought the rest of the audience to a state of humorous collapse. The music I thought not quite up to the Irving Berlin standard.

The scenery and costuming were gorgeous. As usual, for sheer magnificence, London cannot hold a candle to New

York. Yet it all seemed a quantity, rather than a quality,

production. Not, be it understood, in a material way. Rather, there was no subtlety or delicacy of idea behind the

splendour. A Porcelaine de Serra scene which they did, for instance, was elaborate and resplendent to a degree, but it lacked utterly the effectiveness of a similar, but infinitely simpler, scene done by the Chauve Souris. It was impressive merely by its scale.

On the whole, the great thing about the theatre in New York to-day is its activity. There is little being done in any new

way, but there is a lot being done. And people go to the theatre. They may go to Shakespeare because they feel they ought to, but at any rate they go. The good plays are as crowded as the mediocre, and that is something.

JOSEPH BREWER.