THE THEATRE Revudeville. (144th Edition.) At the Windmill.
ONE doesn't look for stars or art at the Windmill: a bit of colour out of the dusty street, some lyrics about love, an art-shot of Revudebelles (here is a name to cause " Janus " agony), jokes which are not very new. These are some titles from the latest edition—" Cupid on the Table," " Eternal Triangle," " Prelude to Romance," " Boy Meets Girl." The mixture-as-before goes smoothly down the throats of the lonely men in macintoshes : the revue unwinds continuously like the coloured lengths of twisted wire children play with : one man in a macintosh gets up and goes out and another takes his place. It isn't like one of the old- fashioned music-halls with a boisterous bar at the back: there is almost a religious air, of muffled footsteps and private prayers : people don't often laugh at the jokes any more than they do at jokes from the pulpit: the rites are rather sombre. Miss Dela Lipinska's presence comes as a startling surprise : everything for a moment is held up : her presence is like a protest. For here is an artist of the very first rank—a diseuse who should have caught the eye of a Cochran or a Maschwitz. It doesn't matter at all that you can't always understand the words of her Polish songs— an enchanting gleam in the bawdy eyes, a lift of the delicious nose, and we know at once on what game her Polish soldier is engaged. Young and lovely and mischievous and you would say irresistible, she woos the man in the macintosh in the front row, who stares vacantly back at her, for she isn't irresistible to him. He is accustomed to naughtiness, and this fine bold ribaldry scares him. You can almost hear his relief when the next turn comes
Previous page
