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* * * * * * * * Opening of the Avenue Theatre, London, 1882 |
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‘More than once it was reported that the theatre which Mr. Sefton Parry had set about building on the [Thames] Embankment would never be completed, as its site had been secured by a railway company, whose terminus is contiguous. The Avenue Theatre, however, is un fait accompli, and its opening-night last Saturday [12 March 1882] may be called a brilliant inauguration, as it was attended by a momentous leverage of rank and fashion. The auditorium of the Avenue is pretty and tastefully decorated, and were it not for one circumstance, we should not have a word to say against it. The feature to which we take exception is this, - there is only one entrance and exit to the stalls, and although allowance is made for getting to the other side by leaving plenty of room between the front row and the orchestra rails, stall visitors object to this walking-round operation, nor do those persons in the front row care for the large amount of passing and repassing which necessarily goes on. If we mistake not, the architect who designed the Avenue did the same duty for the Opéra Comique, where a similar drawback exists; though at the latter establishment there is a means of escape by walking round the whole extent of the balcony, - a small advantage, which is not to be enjoyed at Mr. Fowler’s newest venture. This is the only objection we can take to the auditorium of the Avenue; but we are disposed to believe that this is a more important matter than the management itself considers it. Touching the inaugural entertainment, M. Marius elected to commence his campaign with Madame Favart; and although we should have preferred to see him mark the significance of the occasion by the production of a novelty, still, being unable to obtain and absolutely new feature, he could hardly do better then fall back upon a work which has much to recommend it, and which was in the greatest measure made popular at a neighbouring house by the factors available to the Avenue management. When this piece was first given at the Strand [12 April 1879], Miss Florence St. John delighted London by the treatment she gave to the part whose prominence has justified the author in giving its name as the title of the piece. Miss St. John forms one of the company that M. Marius has contrived to gather around him, and once more parades those qualifications which served to bring her into such high favour. She was accorded a most enthusiastic reception on Saturday night, and at several interesting junctures became the possessor of those floral offerings which are supposed to be deserved by none but the fairest and the most gifted. A printed apology was circulated on behalf of M. Marius, who was said to be suffering from slight hoarseness. The malady was by no means exaggerated, for it was soon found that the new manager’s speaking voice has lost its normal "form," and that his singing was not to be depended upon. As a matter of course, however, he played the part of Charles Favart with admirable point, and was only weak in a vocal sense. The representative of Suzanne was Miss [Mathilde] Wadman, whose intonation is not always of the truest, and who is not absolutely stirring in her acting. Mr. [Henry] Bracey once more appears as Hector. This gentleman’s voice is of a throaty quality, while as an actor he may be said to be destitute of vigour; but in this dearth of stage tenors he is thrice welcome. Mr. Charles Ashford played the part which was originally treated by the late Mr. Harry Cox. Mr. Walter Everard, as the father of Suzanne, acted creditably, and Mesdames E[mily] Duncan and C[lara] Graham, as a couple of officers, looked interesting. The feature of the performance which perhaps excited the greatest curiosity was that which was entrusted to Mr. Frederick Leslie. Everybody felt sure that Miss St. John and M. Marius would acquit themselves like artists, but they did not feel certain that Mr. Leslie, as the Marquis, would be welcome after Mr. Ashley, whose performance in the original representation at the Strand was, we have always considered, most masterful. Mr. Leslie was handicapped very heavily, for had he impersonated the Marquis after the fashion followed by his predecessor, he would have been ranked as a mere imitator, while it is pretty well understood that the actor who creates the part not only does it for himself, but he creates the part for the public, who very frequently resent new readings. Be this as it may, Mr. Leslie elected to keep as distant as possible from Mr. Ashley’s lines, and it may be said that he entirely held his own, and was successful from beginning to end. Looking at the performances of Madame Favart at the Avenue, it may perhaps be urged that the cast is not quite so strong as that which treated it at the Strand; on the other hand, it may be contended that the stage of the more modern establishment allows of an altogether more luxurious mounting than could be afforded by that of Mrs. Swanborough’s merry little house. The chorus is full and well trained, and Mr. Hiller, an able conductor, controls an efficient band. The front of the house is overseered [sic] by Mr. Charles Morton, one of the most competent and courteous gentlemen of his calling.’
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Alabama, a play by Augustus Thomas
‘Alabama is, we feel assured, a peaceful, nay, a heavenly spot. But in a dramatic sense Alabama is mild and constitutionally soporific. There would be no need of noxious drugs in Alabama. Opium would be unknown, thanks to the drowsy hum of the Southern dialect. Beetles on the wing on a summer night are as nothing to the monotonous drone of Colonel Moberley, attorney-at-law and proprietor of the Talladega Sentinel, to say nothing of the conversational cooing of Squire Tucker, Justice of the Peace for Coosa County, Alabama. Coosa is distinctly a good name. It expresses exactly the lotus land of dreams where the Colonel, the Squire, and Decatur, the Negro servant, indulge in a mournful minor wail suggestive of a Negro minstrel afflicted with sentiment. But, for all that, Alabama is distinctly a lovely county to dwell in. Great white magnolias, combined with lilac wisteria, clamber for mastery over the dear old log hut. So peaceful, so ideal, so idyllic is the scene at Talladega, Alabama, U.S.A., that the defiant meadowlarks of the north build their nest in the mouth of the disused cannon at the gate of the dilapidated southern coronal. Of one thing Talladega can be proud. Notwithstanding the invasion of the northern hordes, Talladega can proudly and defiantly say, "there stands a post!" Meadowlarks may build in disused military cannon, but the one domestic gatepost stand defiant of time itself. But there are other peculiarities about Talladega itself. The weather is so heavenly by night and by day that everyone can go about bareheaded. Old men of eighty never dream of putting on a hat. They come out uncovered even when friends pitch stones at windows at five o’clock in the morning. But the privilege of uncovering in the presence of the supreme and divine nature of Alabama is denied to the hero of this dreary play. He alone, warrior and railway contractor as he is, retains the privilege of eternally wearing his hat in public. When he talks to ladies, when he makes love to adorable widows, when he arranges elopements between his own daughter and her lover, when he tries to eat breakfasts eternally deferred, when he fights duels and unmasks hypocrites, the Alabama hero, in the grateful person of Mr. E.S. Willard, remains true to his brown bowler hat. We begin to think that this is a fetish of Alabama, and that it is dimly and mysteriously connected with a dialect play. Perchance it is one of the elements of sleep, and conveyed in this gentle drama by Mr. Augustus Thomas. Again, a flash of thought inspired us. Can it be possible that one of those wicked southern meadowlarks has built her nest in Mr. Willard’s bowler hat? If so he was naturally averse to uncover it in the presence of Mr. James Fernandez, the old southern planter and colonel, who brings to Alabama and Talladega the exact tones, pathetic force, and clear enunciation of the late Benjamin Webster. But the secret is discovered at last. It is not the climate of Alabama nor the building meadowlark that compel Mr. Willard to be true to his bowler hat. The villain has given him a scar on the forehead years ago at West Point, and he is afraid to be discovered. No human being in his native Alabama knows Mr. Willard because he has shaved off his beard. But the scar would be as a discovery too fatal for word, so Harry Preston, known as Captain Dave-en-port, not Davenport, is true throughout the play to his own old, well-trusted brown bowler hat. Alabama by Augustus Thomas (1857-1934), was first produced at the Madison Square Theatre, New York, on 1 April 1891, with a cast including Maurice Barrymore, Walden Ramsay and May Brooklyn. It was revived later the same year at Palmer’s, New York, where it ran for 116 performances. In stark contrast to its success in America, the London production of Alabama managed just 44 performances. In spite of a strong cast headed by James Fernandez, E.S. Willard and Marion Terry, the play was clearly not to the English taste. * * * * * * * * Héro, billed in London as a ‘Parisienne,’ circa 1910 |
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* * * * * * * * ‘Nudity’ on the London music hall stage, 1911
‘The Growth of the Nude. Whether the hot weather was in any way responsible or not, it is beyond dispute that 1911 has seen the exploitation of "the female form divine," as a public amusement carried to such an excess that it has at last arrived at breaking point - and not one moment too soon. Why the authorities ever allowed exhibitions of this class to take root in this country has always been a mystery. The result has been that managers have allowed their commercial instincts to over-ride their sense of propriety, and have vied with each other in finding in succession women who were willing to present themselves in public in a greater state of nakedness than their predecessors. Perhaps it is as well they should have done so, for at last the London County Council, which has been so busy looking after the morals of the music hall patron as to force him to leave the building if he desired to commit the unpardonable sin of consuming a whisky and soda or a bottle of beer, has realised that the responsibility may be on it if the wife, daughter, or sweetheart of the said male music hall patron is treated to an exhibition of nudity in public, which only a few years ago would have resulted in the appearance of both artist and manager at the nearest police-court on a charge of indecency. In the near future the question is to be debated on by the London County Council, and in the meantime the demand for beads and chiffon is understood to be on the increase. It is an open secret that when the boom in bare flesh was first attempted the managers concerned quite expected the authorities to step in, and the surprise was that they did not. The consequence was, that even those managers who, from conscience or fear of the authorities had refused to give engagements to this class of "act," were soon tumbling over one another, outbidding each other in price for an article for which previously they had refused to pay a merely nominal figure. Although none of them would admit it, there is not one amongst them who does not know the real secret of the drawing power of such performances. Their Press agents have been instructed to preach the "Gospel of Art" ad nauseum, and to meet adverse criticism with insinuations of pruriency. Some day, in the near future, it is hoped that some management swill realise that there is still a large, very large, section of the British public willing to go to music halls which now does not, just so soon as it is possible to take wife, daughter, or sweetheart without the slightest danger of her being subjected, in however small a degree, to vulgarity, innuendo, or indelicacy.’
* * * * * * * * Marie Dressler - ‘a bogus manager’ - in London, 1909 |
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‘Miss Marie Dressler commences her season at the Marie Dressler Aldwych Theatre on Saturday evening, Feb. 27 [1909]. The famous American comedienne’s first essay will be a musical piece called Little Mena [sic]. She has secured the services of a Parisian opera singer names Mlle. Morichini, who has achieved an enviable reputation in New York, and will be heard here as a young French girl who speaks in broken English. The company will otherwise be made up chiefly of English artists, and will include Mr. Sydney Barraclough and Mr. Stanley Cooke.’ Marie Dressler and company opened at the Aldwych, London, on 27 February 1909 with two productions, Philopoena, a ‘Farrago of Fun, Fancy, & Foolishness,’ and The Collegettes, a ‘Travesty’ in two scenes. In the first she herself appeared as Philipoena Gesler and in the second as Tilly Buttin; other members of the casts included Frank Bernard, Stanley Cooke, Sydney Barraclough, Ralph Nairn, Alfred Leslie, Edward Kipling, Enid Leslie and Dora Dolaro. In Philopoena the part of Mimi de Chartreuse was played by Mlle. Morichini, and the dancer was Lily Flexmore.
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Marie Dressler’s enterprise at the Aldwych came to grief after only about two weeks, wrecked by financial problems. According to Kurt Gänzl (The British Musical Theatre, The Macmillan Press Ltd, Basingstoke and London, 1986, vol.I, p.1028), ‘George Graves arranged a benefit for the duped actors and Marie Dressler joined the list of "bogus managers".’
FERGUSON AND ALLEN v. DRESSLER.-
’29 [March 1910]. In the Westminster County Court, before his Honour Judge Woodfall, Ferguson and Allen, music hall artists, brought an action to recover the sum of £100 as damaged against Miss Marie Dressler for breach of contract. * * * * * * * * Cylene, ‘America’s Great Fantastic Dancer,’ London, 1893
‘Alhambra Theatre. - Another new dancer made her appearance last night [13 March 1893] at the Alhambra. She is an American known as Cylene; and her performance may be described as a combination of two somewhat incongruous styles. Wearing the fluent draperies of the skirt dancer, Cylene effects the fantastic extravagances of the can-can, displaying in these a considerable amount of acrobatic suppleness. She was well, though not rapturously received.’ |
© John Culme, 2002