Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1931-04-19

TIME graver theatergoer who la
ments Peter Ibbetson's" moody
paroxysms is compensated for
i his discomforts by the delightful
murder in the play. No matter
how much the f1utterings of Mimsy and
COCO may rankle in his hardened
heart. he can dismiss those dovelike
sweethearts In as bitter homicide as
ever found sanctuary in the drama.
This Is where the seraphic Peter, hatred
hammering in his veins. kills Col. Ibbet-
son for claiming that he is his father
At the Shubert Theater Dennis King
gratifleS you first by his delineation of
amazement and horror at the hideous
libel; and then by the tense manner in
which he proceeds to rectify it. He
locks himself in a room with the colo
mel, confrontS him with evidence of his
baStardy, and after a period of violence
strikes him to death with walking
stick. OF course, it is a case of self
defense, or at worst mere manSlaugh-
ter, but in the play they sentence Peter
to the gallowS. Mr.. King was SO kindled
by the situation and by his own good
acting on the first night that instead
Of feigning to smash Charles Coburn
he really did so. A number of stitches,
variously estimated at from six to nine
were required to close the wound in
Mr.. Kings artistic sincerity in the
scene rustles the leaves of memory and
causes me to recollect a diSsimilar per-
Torrance by John Barrymore as Peter
Ibbetson away back in 1913. At that
time was in the throes of a feud with
a Chicago critic named Donegan, with
whom I had differed ferociouSly as to
whether or not there was genius in the
work of Robert B. Manten. The alter
cation threatened to become homiciGal,
as each of us had vowed to let the blood
Of the. other in case We met in the
Union Loop. Mr. Barrymore arriving in
Chicago to play Peter Ibbetson" be-
came one of my partisans. My griev-
ances weighed upon his mind.
After I had written ecStatically OF
his killing of Col. Ibbetson as prime
example of a great actor forgetting HIM
self in little role, he invited me to
attend another performance of the play.
did so, in company, remember, with
Lon M. Houslnan and William A. Pink
erton, who, as Mr. Cohan will tell you.
knew acting as thoroughly as he did
criminology We sat in the first row
and bore, with the fortitude of passion
ate drama-adorers, the nebulous half
lights Of the exhibition and the eery
cooings of Minsy and COCO as vaguely
they strayed among the Currier and
Ives scenery.
When it was time for Mr. Barrymore
to shatter the satanic colonel's pate the
audience grew hushed. He turned the
key in the door, he looked at and talked
to his victim with an ominous and ter
rifying calm. This Is not John Barry
| more" I whispered to Mr.. Pinkertcn,
ut is Hamlet and Peter Ibbetson and
George Du Maurier." Whereupon Mr..
Barrymore lifted his cane and hit the
colonel a brutal smack upon the skull.
Take that, Donegan!" he cried. I'm
Hammond and I've got you where l
want you'll" With each whack he shout
ed "Donegan! Donegan! Doneganl"
And so great was Mr.. Barrymore's per-
sonal wizardry that no one in the audi
ence save Mr. Pinkerton and Mr.. Hous-
man knew that he was taking his art in
vain.
My son John, who Is an amateur
rst-nighter of 10 years Broadway ex-
perience, assures me- that 1 err in my
impression that Peter Ibbetson" is but
a muddled and maudlin heap of senti-
mental jackstraws. He tells me that
the members of my generation are
immune to fragrance III the drama
even when 1t Is most aromatic, as in the
Illustrate romonce of COCO and A1imSy.
wish could be like him and other
theatergoerS who are addicted to the
pleasure Of pretentious mediocritg.
There is 30 much to make bhem happT,