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Irish Jesuit Province At Three Theatres Review by: Gabriel Fallon The Irish Monthly, Vol. 70, No. 832 (Oct., 1942), pp. 409-414 Published by: Irish Jesuit Province Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20515056 . Accessed: 10/06/2014 15:36 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp . JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected]. . Irish Jesuit Province is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Irish Monthly. http://www.jstor.org This content downloaded from 194.29.185.66 on Tue, 10 Jun 2014 15:36:30 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

At Three Theatres

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Page 1: At Three Theatres

Irish Jesuit Province

At Three TheatresReview by: Gabriel FallonThe Irish Monthly, Vol. 70, No. 832 (Oct., 1942), pp. 409-414Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20515056 .

Accessed: 10/06/2014 15:36

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

.

Irish Jesuit Province is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Irish Monthly.

http://www.jstor.org

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Page 2: At Three Theatres

409

Sitting at the Play.

At Three Theatres

By GABRIEL FALLON

IT was Augustine Birrell who said of a contemporary Labour leader: " Poor George, his bleeding heart is always running away with his unbowed -head." (Actually, " unbowed "

was not the word Birrell used, but those who know their Henley will have no difficulty in finding the one that served his witty purpose.)

Biirell may or may not have been right about his "' Poor

George ", but he certainly and humorously diagnosed a condi

tion in hinm which not uncommonly infects the world of letters. Anglo-Irish drama, for instance, would have a certain amount of

difficulty, one fancies, in securing a clean bill of health in this

respect. (Here, without doubt, " unbowed" is the correct word for the case-book, for however the hearts may bleed, the heads,

though light enoughi at times, are always defiantly erect.)

The rumour that Paul Vincent Carroll intended The Old Fo0olishness to symbolise a struggle between contemporary Chris tianity and ancient paganism is, in face of the wFork itself, one to be discounted. And for the reason that Mr. Carroll, had such a struggle been his intent, would, like a man of sense, have attempted to show his audience something of both ancient

paganism and contemporary Christianity. A country jarvey maundering about Finn and a stage-Irish caricature of a country Canon, are, as Mr. Carroll well knows, neither one thing nor the other.

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410 THE IRISH MONTHLY

What Mr. Carroll does not know, perhaps, is that it takes much more than indignation and a bleeding heart to 'write a play. In Kindred, if we remember rightly, the dark sad drops fell for the artist ; the indignation was unbounded-so, too, was the form of Mr. Carroll's work-yet when all was said and stage

managed-with M0Nr. Carroll's problem solved, no doubt, to Mr. Carroll's satisfaction-there was no play. What Mr. Carroll's problem was, it is difficult even now to tell. Such is the obscurity which indignation sometimes brings. Something about the right of the artist to something-possibly the right to express him self. It seems to be a favourite right with artists. No doubt there are good plays to be written around it. But they must be good as plays. Else there is a danger-let the artist ever so indignantly make his claim-the audience may not perceive the necessity.

T'he Old Foolishness was presented in the Gaiety Theatre's season of first productions by Irish authors as the last offering of the season. Perhaps it was considered that from the box-office point of view it might prove to be as successful as The Strings Are False. Nowxv hile it does not follow that all box-office successes come from great plays, it remains to be proved that a good play is not always a box-office success. The Old Foolish ness is anything but a good play. Like Kindred, it suffers from an excess of bleeding heart and unbowed head; its form warps with its content; it dilates with didacticism; the breath of indig nation obscures it utterly, and the result is neither enlivening nor entertaining.

If Paul Vincent Carroll had written nothing more than Kindred and The Old Foolishness there would be little hope for him as a playwright. If he had not written less than The Strings Are False and Shadow and Substance he might even be a very great playwright in the making. As it is, he stands perilously

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AT THREE THEA TRES 411

at the cross-roads of success and failure. His next work in the theatre will probablv decide his fate there. He vould do well to leave Kindred and The Old Foolishness irrevocably behind hinm, and, let him be as opinionated as he vill, allow his characters in action to speak for hinm. But they must be characters and not

mere abstractions of trait or walking didactic shadows. Even Hamlet, that opinionative fellow, knew something about the theatre, and could manage to hold his tongue in a moment of crisis, while he allowed a play to do his conscience-catching for him. Let the heart of the playwright bleed as freely as it may, the head, like that of Rodin's Thinker, must be bowed.

The Old Foolishness was capably produced by John Stephen son and well acted by a mixed cast, but the only useful purpose it served was that of showing that Kitty Thuillier is a talented actress in the making. Mr. Carroll's first-night speech, with its stress on the word " intelligent ", added nothing to The Old Foolishness.

* * *

The Eari of Longford, for the opening presentation of his new season at the Gate, revived The Rivals, and did so in a manner

which made it one of the finest presentations of Sheridan's work that Dublin has yet seen.

Here is a piece which, though called a comedy, is farcical in plot. Its characters are farcical characters, proper to the medium, abstractions of a comic trait rather than real living people. It was Sheridan's first work of theatre, and amazingly successful, due no doubt to the fact that the veins of this Dublin born

Harrovian might be said to run literature and the theatre. Production and acting were of the highest Longford standard.

As always in conjunction with Carl Bonn, Gerald Pringle ex celled himself. The presentation of the opening scene with its judicious use of music and mime was never better achieved. The

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412 THE IRISH MONTHL Y

method captured the interest of the audience and fixed it upon

the play. The use of the projection lamp (a modern adaptation of the magic lantern of childhood's days), by means of which stylised settings were projected upon the cyclorama wall, is one

which might be extended to other production work with dramatic effect and economic advantage.

The major figures of the farce, Sir Anthony and Mrs. Mala prop, were splendidly played by Hamlyn Bunson and Nora O'Mahony. These performances have seldom, if ever, been bettered in Dublin presentation of them. The scenes between Faulkland and Julia have their weariness for any audience but Michael Ripper's performance in the former rcmle changed all

that. AWithout doubt this must rank as one of the most enliven ing performances of Faulkland that the many revivals of the play

have yet enshrined. MIr. Ripper has a subtle and infectious sense of humouir and in Faulkiland he found material on which he exploited it to the delight of his audiences, adding considerably to the gaiety of Sheridan's play by his wholly unexpected inter pretation.

John Kelly's Sir Lucius O'Trigger wvas rather disappointing. Mr. Kelly, who is a sensitive and painstaking actor, seemed to

be wvell cast for the part, but his Sir Lucius had nothing of the stage reality that Sheridan intended for it, which is perhaps one

reason why the part is best plaved by an Englishman. The in

terpretation needs to be so Irish in the stage conception of the

w-ord that Absolute may wlith reason obey his stage direction of

nminmieking Sir Lucius. However, Mr. Kelly may console him

self in the knowledge that Lee, the first actor to play O'Trigger, was a failure in the part; though Clinch, who followed him, so

pleased Sheridan and his audience that St. Patrick's Day was

specially written for hin. Ronald Ibbs played an individual and most amusing Bob

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A1T THREE THEATRES 413

Acres. Cathleen Delany and Bonnie Fagan gavte very pleasing performances of the rather colourless parts of Lydia Languish and Julia; and Christopher Casson made a manly, if not a soldierly, Jack Absolute, though here and there one caught the impression that he was holding his lines with difficulty. Doris

Finn's Lucy was an outstanding minor performance, and the part of Fag was played dexterously and with conviction by Cecil Brock. The costumes were designed by Lord Longford and the production ran for four weeks.

* * *

The WThiteheaded Boy is not only Lennox Robinson's greatest play but it is, without dispute, the greatest comedy in its theatre's repertoire. It was first produced towards the close of that memorable year 1916. The great Maire O'Neill, of the original group of Abbey players, returned to Dublin for the occasion in order to create the delightful part of Aunt Ellen, which is surely one of the finest comedy characters in modern theatre. The play is well-nigh perfect in form and content; its observance of human nature is shrewd yet sympathetic; its

comedy is full and human; the laughter it provokes has tonie

quality. The Whiteheaded Boy has toured most of the English speaking world and has repaid its author handsomely. (And then they say that great art in the theatre goes hand-in-hand

with small returns !)

Liike all great plays, The Whiteheaded Boy repaid its actors also, not only in two-figure weekly salaries but in lasting reputa tion. There have been great Aunt Ellens since the first great

Aunt Ellen and at least one greater, for the Aunt Ellen of Maureen Delaney was surely the greatest Aunt Ellen of them all. With the late Peter Nolan's John Duffy it created a pas de deuce in comedy playing that has not been surpassed in the theatre of our time. Actors have made names for themselves in the part

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of George Geoghegan, perhaps none more than the late Sydney Morgan, and actresses in the part of MIrs. Geoghegan, of which Sara Allgood was perhaps the last exponent. But every part of this play holds hidden treasure for the player with the instinct to find it. To play in it, particularlyr under the skilled direction of the author himself, was always a pleasurable privilege.

The recent revival of this play by Amharclann na Mainistreach wzEas sadly disappointing. One missed the author's sure touches in production and casting. Three performances in it caught somiething of the right spirit of the work-Cyril Cusack's Denis, Fred Jolhnston's George and Dermot Kelly's playing of the diminutive part of Peter.

rre play is in itself so independent of skilled presentation that crowded auidiences, most of whomii were seeing it for the first

time, indiscrinminately enjoyed the total effect of play and play ing. Yet nmost of the latter, particularly in the smaller roles, was

by no means as skilful as good amiiateur work. Mr. McCormick

does not make a good John Dufly, Miss Mooney and Miss Crowe might have changed roles with advantage, though there seems to

be no reason why Miss Delaney should not have been allowed to repeat her former triumph. Position and movement were not

fitting, and there was no attempt at teanm-work. The vhole pre sentation, though acceptable to current audiences by virtue of

the play's sterling qualities, was one which neither critic nor old Abbey-goer could pass without comnment. Yet when these

faults have passed away and are forgotten, the quality of Lennox

Robinson's comedy will still remain. The English-speaking theatre has not seen the last production of The Whiteheaded

Boy or-who knows ?-the best!

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