The Play

FROTH AND DELIGHTFUL BUBBLE
The Beggar's
Opera
ORE highly stylised froth
and bubble can hardly
be. imagined than " The Beggar's Opera." There are some (there always are sonic) who will argue into its absurdities a satire on -unpleasant social instincts, but I won't be preached to by a lyric writer with such an engaging name as Gay. I refuse to be anything but amused by sweet, sounds, sweet sights and pretty wit. Nor will I pine for the Playfair version-said to be so much more elegant than this Gielgud variation. Having only attained the schoolgirl stage in those days, no one thought " The Beggar's " tit entertainment, so I can revel unrestrainedly and unfettered in the first rapture of this, the most romantic stage Conception of all time.
IT has everything in its favour, It I concerns a beautiful girl In love with a handsome but erring cavalier. It sets the beautiful girl in a kindly but sly eye-on-the-worldly-chance family which she no more resembles than a lily resembles a cauliflower. That she should lose her heart to a gentleman who can jump through windows like Michael Redgrave, even if he is a highwayman with a wench in every village, is all too true to type. Then that he should go to prison and get within flirting nearness to the gallows' pole is also in the most excellent tradition. And to complete the whole, that that most undeserving but captivating rascal should be given pardon at the gallows' foot is the perfect circle of aptnessespecially as his pardon is no logical outcome of the story but a gratuitous gift of the author himself, who comes On to the stage in person to present it.
IN Crulkshank's romantic raggedness I this "Beggar's Opera" has come to town. In all the most brilliant rags
of motley's wardrobe it has been set under a veneer of polite dinginess which makes everything but its highlights sombre, mellow and rich, like the paintings of the period. (Indeed, one scene, gilt-framed like an Academy picture of the early nineteenth century, raised rapturous applause from the audience, delighted with every conceit that a whimsical decor coidd devise.) The Cast could be most easily divided into those who looked better than they sounded (actors, not singers), and those who, in both action and voice, were as blithe as the first lark rising from the summer hay. Among these Audrey Mildmay was joyous and fresh in voice and beauty. So, too, was Linda Gray. All the life and variety of Frederic Austin's music was diScovered by Roy Henderson and Joseph Farrington, who had the richest chances given into their hands, and Michael Redgrave's appearand gesture, whether in peacock green or scarlet, swept away any misgivings as to the quality of his singing. Cheeseparing indeed would any woman be who criticised a Macheath like Michael Redgrave's, Haymarket
Nap Hand
WHAT a joy to see Mr Ralph Lynn again after so long, and to realise that he really is as good as one remembered him to be! And if Mr Tom Walls is not there to invent the desperate schemes that Mr Lynn bungles, there is Mr Charles Heslop, himself no mean bungler, with his surefire, get-rich-quick plan of uniting hie and Mr Lynn's new-borns (with another leterianete.1 as a British Dianne quintet. After this vast wealth is continually knocking on the door only to be spirited away by misfortune or mismanagement as soon as it arrives In the boudoir. Divided between placating their maddened wives and their duty to an expectant British public the precious pair have an exhausting evening.
Aldwych
G. T.