New Plays

Fanny. The many virtues of Fannie Brice, comedienne, are lost to Fannie Brice, emotional actress. Perhaps it is the fault of the play, a concoction of sugar and tears drained by three of its characters, an old philanthropist, a grateful beneficiary, a swindling villian. Miss Brice looks much, much better in revue skits, even if David Belasco did stage this play for her.

Scotch Mist. Sir Patrick Hastings,* onetime (1924) Attorney General of Great Britain under the James Ramsay Macdonald ministry, writes of a captivating lady who prefers South Africa with a masterful Scotch lover to England with a member of the British Cabinet, even though the latter happens to be her lawful, wedded husband. Into this little triangle, Sir Patrick has thrown a few chips of bright dialog, but hardly enough to exalt his play above dangerous mediocrity. Rosalinde Fuller tosses about in the role of devastating Mary Denvers with a jerkiness that irritates in spite of her sincerity. Before visiting these shores, Scotch Mist hung over London with moderate success.

The Countess Maritza. Ever since The Student Prince, the Shuberts have been putting royalty to music with golden success. Although long awaited, the youngest in line, The Countess Maritza, disclosed nothing more sensational than a former Metropolitan prima donna of human dimensions. Indeed, shapely Yvonne D'Arle's skipping and gestures are more suggestive of the Shubert girl than the Gatti-Casazza stalwart. Had she injected less grand opera bravura into her lyric cadenzas, she might have proved even more effective.

The story: a proud nobleman forced to labor as servant to a haughty countess conquers and is conquered in love. After all these years and years of nobility in difficult incognito, those who still relish such fare will find the Countess Maritza thoroughly edifying, highly seasoned with color and music, harmoniously staged. The same romantically inclined folk will overlook, in the general glamor, a turbulent succession of flat puns and desperate buffoonery. They will even forgive the unfortunate costume foisted upon handsome Songster Walter Woolf in the third act. They will thrill to the tinsel, to the song "Play "Gypsies", to the do-re-mi of routine musical comedy efficiently produced.

Honeymoon Lane. Eddie Dowling wrote the book, lyrics, music, and acts the leading role. His personal popularity is the show's greatest asset. So likable is Eddie that even the most churlish fellow finds himself shamed into trying to enjoy the production. That is not so hard, really, in spite of the sticky sentimentality that inevitably gums a musical comedy book about a country lad, a country lass, a dream, and a cottage at the end of Honeymoon Lane. It is easier to forget Eddie's slush because Florence O'Denishawn dances thru it all like a fairy on a moonbeam.

Yellow is a tantalizing play. After shining with golden radiance through two scenes of masterful tragedy, it suddenly pales into the forced flicker of melodrama. Its unevenness is so extreme that the poor scenes seem doubly deficient, the better ones elusive. However, judged merely as melodrama, Yellow stands well above all its current competitors. It is the first play of Margaret Vernon, who reveals, certainly, potential brilliance.

A young man, irresponsible, selfish, becomes entangled with two women. One he marries; the other he leaves to bear a nameless child. Instead of allowing the play to rush to its inevitable catastrophe from this point, Miss Vernon, under the guidance of George M. Cohan, makes it diddle with detectives, telephone calls, attempted murder, cross-examinations, till finally she puts an end to it all with a last tragic scene that recalls the promise of the first two. Shirley Warde carries off highest honors in the cast, though Chester Morris makes a sufficiently convincing cause of all the trouble. The lighting in Scene Three deserves at least honorable mention.

The Ramblers. Heralded as the world's funniest twain, Bobby Clark and Paul McCullough rode into town on a two-cylinder vehicle, The Ramblers, and proved it. The resilient cigar and long, fur overcoat are still with them as they amble about Tia Juana with murderous Mexican villains in sinister pursuit. An off-and-on love affair, and a charming dancer, Marie Saxon, are tossed in for good measure. Presented as a musical comedy, The Ramblers is really an excuse for bringing back Comedians Clark and McCullough in a prolonged skit. It is a good excuse.

*Not only was Sir Patrick the first Attorney General to be admitted to a British Cabinet (1924), but an act of his was the immediate cause of the Cabinet's fall. One J. Ross Campbell had been arrested on a charge of sedition for publishing in the Worker's Weekly an article appealing to British soldiers, sailors and airmen not to fire upon British workmen, should their officers ever order them to do so. Sir Patrick, as Attorney General ordered the charge against Mr. Campbell withdrawn. At once the Communist sheetlets began publicly to rejoice that the Government is at last acting as a Labor Government should." In vain, Sir Patrick protested that Mr. Campbell was only acting editor" of the Worker's Weekly, that he was a citizen of the U. S., and that his distinguished War service had left him so crippled that he could "hardly hobble into the dock." Conservatives refused to believe that Sir Patrick had acted from motives of humanity and raised a hue and cry against the Government for pampering Communists" amid which the Cabinet was voted from power.