The New York herald., 1922-05-28

device all the illusion to be mad from
view of full auditorium and tiers
on tiers Of painted spectators on the
canvas background. AS matter of
fact, there is, with the cheering of
the unseen spectators. vastly more
illusion.
Mr.. Simonson is undeniably the
most modern of our stage artists. He
has done nothing superior to this
example of his Skill The playwright
is. however, reactionary at this point.
He has the men in the judges stand
describe the event of the races. So
we hear what happens to Number 2
and how the pace dropped here and
how the Dutchman spurted. 1t is true
that Lady Gay Spdnker was highly
applauded for years when she used
to adopt this manner of describing
the race in London Assurance" But
as she grew older her methods fell
into disfavor. This manner of making
the spectators aware of the event of
a race or battle or a prize fight passed
into such disfavor that not a teacher
of dramatic construction at a college
would allow a beginner to write a play
in which scene off the stage was
described to the audience by one of
the characters. Impressionism, how
ever. takes it's good where 1t finds 1t.
The philosophy of From Morn to
Midnight is of the melancholy and
unrelievedly pessimistic chara cter
found to-day in SO much of the Teu-
tonic fiction. In the velodrome scene
the absconding cashier throws about
his stolen money to see the riders
struggle for the prizes and risk their
lives and limbs to crafty the morbid
hunger for amusement which ami
mates the mob of sensual spectators.
He is prepared to offer even more
than he has sacrificed to stir their
desires when the Royal Highness ar
rives. The stiffness that comes over
the crowd shows that even the de-
mand for the sight of blood Is SUBJ
servient to their awe at the sight of
ROYALTY. There Is an emotion more
pov nrful even than any that money
can Nuy.
When the thief calls to him the
girls from the ballroom of the cabaret
to share his champagne he recognizes
what the power of his gold is and
the little feeling that any of them has
for him. So he whips them from his
presence. physically or through such
brutality as the charge that the girl
who will not dance for him on the
taO
the emotions of the preceding scenes
are recalled in the Salvation Army
barracks as the penitents climb up
to the bench of confession. His own
quiet family life, with the girl learn
ing the overture to "Tannhaueser" on
the piano, his wife hesitating about
the time for broiling the chops and
the old woman watering the gera-
NUNS in the corner, flash again across
his memory as the men and women
rise to tell their sordid life stories.
Even the courtesan with the wall
about the wooden legged man recalls
the brutal horror of his hours in the
supper room. Such is the mood and
such the inscrutable hopelessness of
the new play. moreover of the new
school of fiction which between covers
found its most searching utterance
In "The worlds Illusion"
II Kaiser deals with such problems
in all his plays IL Is to be feared that
they will awaken no touch of warmth
In the heart of the American theater-
soer. The form of impressonism we
have learned from O'Neill. Brief and
swiftly moving scenes. one problem
of character or life rather than any
rounded fable, the rapid and rather
inconsequent progress Of the cinema
this seems to be at least the out
ward and visible signs of impress
sionism in the drama-combned of
course, with complete willingness
to take anything out of the old the
ater conventions that may suit the
convenience of the dramatIst.
II seems that after ell It was Her.