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When the Tennis Players Work at Plays.

In the month of March it was my misfortune to attend a dramatic entertainment in aid of the "V.C. L.T.C." Certainly I should have known that anything run under the auspices of a club with such a title would prove more or less disheartening, but a fair performer inveigled me into buying a ticket—and I make it a practice never to miss anything when I have been rash enough to pay cash for it.

Such is my apology for my presence, and here follows my opinion of the performance. In the first place, may I be allowed to quote two extracts from my little book, "Advice to Amateurs"? One is, "Players should remember that feeble fooling is not acting"; and the other," In selecting plays, amateurs should be careful to choose those least familiar to the general public."

In this latter connection I may say that there are few men who reach the age of thirty without having made the acquaintance of "The Duchess of Bayswater" and " A Pair of Lunatics," and as most of us are aware, "Familiarity breeds contempt,"

The first curtain rose on "A Pair of Lunatics"—or rather one lunatic—Mr. P. B. Borad, who, by the way, was evidently a great favourite with his audience. He is an actor of some little skill, but he seemed to be laboring under the delusion that all English Army captains have a particular affection for gesticulation wildly with their eyeglasses and for falling on their knees at every conceivable opportunity. Moreover, he had acquired H.B. Irving's abominable snarl and atrocious pronunciation and although his burlesque of Irving's "Hamlet" was distinctly clever, I cannot admire his imitation of faults such as those.

"Terbe or not terbe—thash question," is a typical example of Mr. Broad's pronunciation throughout the piece.

I regret to say that the lady—Miss I Tennant—playing the second lunatic, did not look the part. She was, in fact, less like a lunatic that I am, and every one page 44 of her actions was hopelessly sane. Her "Ophelia" was easily eclipsed by the action of Miss Pritchard, who took part in the recent local competitions. On the other six occasions when it has been my misfortune to witness this little comedietta, the lady playing the second lunatic has always commenced her performance of "Ophelia" by removing a number of hairpins and allowing a few straggling locks to "fall round her shoulders in a glorious cloud." Miss Tennant's back hair, however, had apparently—in the words of the Bab Ballad—"taken long in dressing," for the only action she made was to unwind a scarf is an anachronism. One feels that Miss Tennant might have created more effect by removing her shoes, two examples of the faults in this direction:

"Cold in iz head" (cold in his head).

"Mice wan balloon yu kno"(my swan balloon you know).

The second item on the programme, "Feed the Brute," was a play I had not before run across and thus it seemed to me a clever little piece, and quite creditably acted. As the British workman and bullying husband, Dr. Isaacs appeared genuinely at home; while as Susan Pottle, his wife, Miss M. L. Nicholls, showed decided ability in the realms of cookery and demureness.

Dr. Isaacs, by the way, has evidently marvelous powers of endurance, for he got rid of an enormous dinner in a remarkably short space of time, and looked none the worse for it. Indeed, I doubt whether I have seen in New Zealand a more natural piece of acting than his method of eating that meal.

One cannot but admire Miss P. Nicholls, who played Mrs. Wilkes, for her utter lack of vanity. Most amateur actresses are always anxious to appear as beauties, and would be horrified should one suggest that they donned curl-papers and frowsy, unbecoming costume. Two women, who sat just behind me, could find no. words sufficiently strong to express their appreciation of Miss Nicholls' feigned ugliness, and indeed she deserves commendation.

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"The Duchess of Bayswater" did not arrive until after an intolerably long interval, and owing to my previous acquaintance with the piece, I had but little interest in it. Yet when the curtain finally rose I was surprised to find an entirely new scene before me. Presumably it was a garden—since the "Duchess of Bayswater" always in connected with a garden—but although magnificent palms grew in profusion (out of pots.), the lawn beneath the performers' feet was far more board that I.

Kathleen Joles, Miss R. M. Thornton, made her appearance with condiderable dash and a red umbrella—the only piece of colour in the whole of her acting. The presence of grease-paint made blushing impossible, but Miss Thornton's one idea seemed to be that she must "produce blushing's effext" by gazing floorwards and playing with her parasol. Her most natural action throughout the play was the manner in which she blew her nose, and this was obviously merely preliminary to dropping her hadkerchief at the feet of an ardent suitor. Miss Thornton has that abominable method of pronouncing "girl" as "gairl" at present so popular in England. Further mistakes in her diction were after this manner:

"Budoo be sarious" (but do be serious).

"Carul izntit deredful" (Cary 1, isn't it dreadful)

Mr. G. H. Nicholls, as Caryl Stubbs, gave on the impression of having rehearsed his part too well to be altogether natural in it. His waliking-stick seemed to serve much the same purpose as Miss Joles' umbrella, but he had palpably forgotten to borrow a ring, thereby rendering Sir Jeremy Joles' Statement. "Your grasp is hearty, and you wear a ring," wholly absurd. Such little omissions on the part of an actor lamentable lack of artistic interest.

Miss M. L. Nicholls gave a fairly good rendering of the rôle of the Duchess, but was little too fond of her Pork Pie posters to be entirely convincing. I protest against her pronunciation of "Berkeley," and also of "Bayswarta" for "Bayswater."

To Mr K. Munro's Duke of Bayswater I have but one objection. He was inclined to be too effusive in the part, showing thereby a lamentable ignorance of the page 46 manners of a Duke. The cold-hearted way in which he delivered his "Hush, mother, don't interrupt," brought to my mind that little couplet of G. B. Shaw's:

"They say there is no other

Can take the place of mother."

Mr. Munro's Diction was at times peculiar, as, for instance:

"Spechees of ullo fibrine"(species of aloe fibrine).

Mr. A. Fair, as Sir Jeremy, was decidedly a crochety invalid, but he gave one the impression that he was a little afraid of his bath-chair—an unwieldy piece of furniture, which appeared to be rather too large for the stage.

In pronunciation he too had his peculiarities, the worst fault being:

"Iz hezo veririch, m' deer" (Is he so very rich, my dear).

Mr. J. F. Thompson—an exceptionally tall man, of a somewhat weary appearance—made an excellent "Jenkins," and said his half-dozen words with quite creditable incorrectness. His was, perhaps, the best piece of acting in the whole performance.

In conclusion, I feel called upon to say that when the few faults mentioned above have been rectified, all these performers will doubtless prove successful amateurs, but the Gods preserve me from such another evening as that I spent on the 29th March, 1912.

C.N.B. (for the "Triangle")