New-York tribune., 1921-05-15

4 phasizes the impression created .hy
more sporadic observation in the the
ater that q brilliant dramatist is In
danger of going down into q formula.
Already il has reached his knees. 1t
IS nonsense, of course, to maintain
that everything is for the best for each
individual in the best of all possible
I worlds, but that does not convince us
\ that OF necessity it must be for the
/ worst, There are technical objections
80 making fate ride the characters in
play with pure caprice as to the use
/ OF whip and spurs. Free will NAV NOT
exist, but people in play should
seem 20 be free to be completely inter
esting. The fate which hovers in tbe
wings Of every o'Neill play can come
Z" De as palpabIe device as a rod
III machine.
we don't even object to cruel fate.
raS when it is constantly pictured rs
an almtess, laundering, fat and blind
tang, ilfe is reduced to terms so petty
that it hardly seems worth the trouble
OIL being recorded. Particularly. we oh.
}eet to suicides being put forward as
'eilil'ee' dramatic conclusion to any
story: Death is generally so STARK
and inarticulate that explanat;ons
are needed. That is why, for
instance, "Liliom" seems to MS 80
fine play, for Molnar, after al.
lowing his hero to stab himself. re-
fuses to stop, but goes on, even un To
heaVen, to ascertain what it was all
ABOUT and to enlighten US a little fur
efer as to what manner of person this
was Liliom dead is still vital W.
can look into his heart even after Il
fas stopped beating. Using an sr
olreiy different technique. susan c,as
Fen was able TO do somewhat the same
'nlng IN "Bernice." Emma and ca,eh
ol "Dltf'rent' are both dead and bur;nd
~ the final curtain before we ha1f
know them. @'A
o'Neills willingness TO accen+ -.
moment when the gray sister SNAPS the
Unread as the end of every story car
hardiy be branded as immature. without
danger Somebody may rise to obiect
tnae Thomas Hardy is just as abiect -,
ms acceptance of the surface anne.y-
ahces Of fate. But there are opporfnn;-
tles given to the novelist not open n
the playwright. With wider canvas
HARDY can embellish his theme and bv
elaDoratlon save formula from same.
ness
certainly 0'Neill is made to seem
immature by the phrases of some of
hls most ardent disciples. Thus. we find
5ohn V. A. Weaver, author of IN
american, speaking of 'the savacely
handsome fellow" Only 4savaee1v
handsome fellow" we think. could
speak of one of his plays as "the story
OF sex~starved woman" And come to
thlnk of it, we wonder why Caleb, the
sex-starved gentleman, got along SO
tolerably we'll up to the time he decided
to hang himself. We also find Mr.
Weaver saying in his book column in
lhe Brooklyn Eagle: From the dreamy
seclusion of his Provincetown light 4
mouse, whittier he fees to escape the
call OF big-city carousing, come these
dramas at intervals
40 our mind big-city carousins Is
better for dranatists who are using
life as their stuff than the dreamy
seclusien of lighthouses. Rudvard /
hlpiing once wrote an excellent story !
ABOUT man in lighthouse which lie
called The Disturber of Traffic. After
ne had been in the lighthouse for
time the man began to find streaks in
the water. He was also Impressed by
the fact that the streaks invariably I
ran parallel up and down the channel.
1here' were never any cross streaks to |
vary the monotony. People in light
houses have tendency TO lose sight
OF some of the variant possibilities Of |
line and life. There is often tight
ness to the plan of the streaks which |
they see. In Kipling's story the cap
tain OF passing steamer took the man |
OF the lighthouse because he filled the
channel with warning signals of wrecks
where there were none, so that no
more vessels could so through his
channel and streak it up. Kipling
even records the conversation of the
man and the captain. The man said,
"Quack, quack,"