The Billboard 1909-01-30: Vol 21 Iss 5 (1909-01-30)

The Billboard JANUARY 30, 1909. London Letter (Continued from page 12.) And as a matter of fact, the love story is finished to all intents and purposes at the end of the first act, when Henry, in his assumed rough Gascon manner, had wooed and won the fair sister of the King, and at the end of the play, he had, as it were, simply won her afresh. But still the play is full of bustle and excitement and certainly gives Fred Terry and Julia Neilson plenty of opportunities to shine in that particular variety of romance which they have made their own. Terry is a robust and hearty Gascon Henry, while Miss Neilson makes the ‘‘reine Margot’? as charming and gracious a lady as even a poet monarch could jesire. Tita Brand as Catherine de Medici is ferocious enough to satisfy anyone, while Malcolm Cherry and Horace Hodges, as the wonder-working astrologer, some wonderfully good work. No one can call the play great, but still there is no doubt that it will be after the heart of the majority of Fred Terry and Julia Neilson’s large circle of admirers, and it should prove a fair success. Mrs. Clement Scott is offering a £100 prize for a really dramatic and sensational vaudeville sketch, which she will present, with herself in the chief part, which must be a sympathetic one, in England, and later in America and Australia, in which countries she is now plan ning an extensive tour. The sketch is not to contain and must not play for more than fifteen minutes. Henry Savage is now in London with The Devil, preparing for the English production of the play by Robert Courtneidge. The date of production is not yet fixed but Mr. Savage is of the opinion that it will interest English thea Ruggieri, put in tregoere just as much as those in America. In any case, I rather think it will arouse even more controversy than was the case in the United States. Paris Letter (Continued from page 12.) As Judas, Monnet-Sully posed before the cinematograph machine, and Albert Lambert appeared in the role of Christ. The interiors were made on the stage of the Theatre Neuilly, but in leu of the impossible countryside of the real Judea, the forests of the famous Fontainbleau, near Paris served quite as well. All in all, the series is most wonderful, as indeed it should be. There is not a scene, a look or a gesture at which the most pious might take offense, but on the other hand, as 1 have already suggested, the ‘‘film d'art’ is a most wonderful sermon. To the moving picture men I take off my hat and bow low. one of the most famous renors in the world, has left the Opera. The directors refused to renew his contract after seventeen years in harness at this famous house of song. The singer informs me that he will remain in the comfort and quiet of his new home (which he is building here at tremendous cost) for at least aetaoin taoin aoin aoinaoi eost) for a time at least, but in the same breath he intimated that he had several good years before him yet, in spite of a well fitted career to date. So I judge he will not long remain in retirement. M. Alvarez is French, although his name (taken for professional reasons) sounds quite Italian. He comes from a provincial family, and at first was a cornet soloist, attaining no little reputation with this instrument. When he was twenty-three years old, a friend heard him sing, and told him he should have his voice trained, which he did, an obscure teacher placing it for him. ‘Then he tried the Conserv atoire—and got laughed at by the masters Albert Alvarez, there. Later he turned the laugh on others than himself, for five consecutive seasons "1 he drew from the Metropolitan Opera in New York $20,000 a month, singing about once every three days. “My first engagement?’ he laughed. **Mon Dieu! If ever I am the director of an opera— and 1 hope I never am—I shall never make contracts other than like they made me. I was to do everything, sing every place—musicales, churches, in private and public, outdoors and in—which, I suppose _— back yards.’’ Henry W. Savage is over an this side now, and Paris theatrical people are making themselves pretty awaiting his coming. They are just getting over the nervousness occasioned by Charles Frohman’s visit—they do get nervous when he is here, for authors and managers alike are wondering whether he won’t buy their productions for America—and now comes Mr. Savage. Paris has many a little trinket in the operatic line to show, and some of the folks are willing to take down and display their wares. Patrons of the Conan Francaise are looking forward with much pleasure to the occasion of the presentation of Henri Bataille’s new work. It stands complete and has been given the title Le Songe d’un Soir d’Amour (The Dream of a Night of Love). In form it is a drematic poem and will last a solid hour, without intermissions of any kind. Mme. Bartet, one of the favorite artists of France, and Le Bargy will take the principal roles. * Of course this season must bring its pantomimes. London, as is usual at this time of year, is flooded with them, but we over here are having our full share. One of the pretti est of the lot is Cendrillon, the lyrical pantomime of Henri Cain and M. Massenet, which has been revived for the post-holiday season at the Theatre de la Gaite. Mlle. Vix sings the role of Prince Charmant. A new play entitled La Guerre (The War), is soon to be given a trial at the Theatre Antoine. It is by Auguste Germain and M. Trebor. The piece, according to those who have read the manuscript, has more than the usual promise of success. Mlle. Blanche Denege has been engaged for the leading part. At the Theatre Rejane, they’ve put the good, ever-reliable Raffles back on the boards, which brings about a very interesting situation. At play the Athene, the of Croisset and La blanc, made from the romances of the latter writer, is still holding public favor, the piece being Mr. Frohman’s purchase Arsene Lupin. the Athenee, the play of Croisset and Lablanec’s hero is a French Raffies, a gentleman thief; so now, with both the English and French styles of artistic burglaring being set forth at the same time for the public to gaze upon and admire, one has an excellent opportunity of making comparisons. ‘These plays, however, seem to hit the public in just the right spot, and there is certainly room for both on the Paris stage. + Bernhardt, the Divine, still remains away from her theatre. According to report, she will be away for some time to come, for her present tour, which so far has taken her into Egypt, Spain, Germany, Austria and Russia, may even extend as far as Japan. Certainly, in that case, those Parisians who live only when Mme. Bernhardt is in the city of her playhouse, will have to exist without her until well on toward spring. Personally, I half doubt the Japan idea, though on its face the story bas the look of truth. The great actress realizes she is growing old, and that the time is fast coming when she can no longer travel as she was wont to do. Therefore, if she ever intends going to Japan, and there is every reason tu believe she would be given a warm welcome there, she could never find a better time. There is some talk in theatrical circles that she may even make another tour of the principal cities of America next fall. 1 would not be at all surprised if she did just that thing. Sarah Bernhardt is a most wonderful bundle of endurance. Lovers of lyric tragedies are looking forward quite eagerly to the presentation of such a piece entitled La Fille du Soleil (The Daughter of the Sun). It is the work of Maurici Magre, and Andre Gailhard, and will be produced on August 29 and 31, this year. The reading and audition is now under way at the residence of M. Gailhard, who was formerly and for many years director of the Opera. Mlie. Vera Sergine has returned from London, where she appeared in a Nihilist play, and shortly will be seen in a new piece, entitled La Tour du Silence (The Tower of Silence), with M. de Max in the principal male role. Toe play is in three acts and is by M. G. Collijn As a curtain raiser, an adapted play from the Russian of M. J. W. Bienstock, Les Lettres Brulees, will be used. Charles Frohman is quoted in the American newspapers—and his words have filtered through the gea to France—to the effect that the drama of this country is soon to undergo a radical change; that before many moons have come and waned, the day of the naughty intrigue, the lover-and-mistress, false-wife-and-wicked-husband plays will be over. And in their place will come the purer sort of piece with young and innocent girls and men for heroines and heroes. Henri Lavedan, himself a French playmaker and member of the Academy Francaise as well, says also that the drama of France is undergoing a change, but be has different ideas of its ultimate goal, its present trend and what we may expect during the next year or so. “I tell you,’’ he said the other day, ‘‘during 1909, 1910 and 1912, we will see some things _ likes of which our stage has never seen beore.’’ The remark came at the end of a conversation during which he set forth his views on the subject of nowaday tendencies of French playwrights. What he said may or may not be true, but he has at least a vast multitude of people who have faith in his —— and because of this and because of his position in the literature of France, English-speaking playwrights, managers, dramatic critics and others connected in any capacity with the stage, will be somewhat interested. Without direct quotation (for what he really said will scarcely permit of such a thing in English) his conversation went about like this. M. Lavedan had been to see L‘Oiseau Blesse and Le Lys, plays at the Renaissance and the vaudeville theatres respectively, and was very much impressed with what he saw and heard. In Le Lys, two sisters and their parents are upon the scene, one of the sisters being quite young and pretty, the other being close to the spinster line. “I have a lover,’’ declares the younger of the sisters, quite as calmly as if she were saying: “I have the blue vase in the parbor.”’ The elder sister looks first at her parents then at the young girl beside her. “She is right,’’ she says to the mother and father. ‘‘I approve of her act. She is not so stupid as I. She has done only what I should have done a long time ago!”’ “‘Whereupon,’’ said M. Lavedan, ‘‘the entire house rose upon its feet and applauded. Quite dumfounded he looked about him at the faces of his neighbors. To his surprise the people he saw were people he knew—they were ‘the family.’ the old homefolks he’d always known. Then the question presented itself to him: Would these mothers and fathers approve such an act and such a declaration in the case of their own young daughters? Would they say ‘bravo’ if, upon reaching home after the theatre, they would find Ruth or Rose in the arms of a lover, or a note from her saying she had gone away with Archibald, that she had given herself generously to him? The author said he didn’t believe they would. Then why applaud when such things were presented on the stage? Ponderiag over this proposition for a time, he decides that an audience applauds the cleverness of the playwright and the faithfulness of the actors, more, sometimes, than the sentiment of the piece itself. The author has a bag of words from which he chooses and selects a few and shows them to the public. If he is clever, the audience applauds, regardless of the picture presented, the brilliant playwright can make his public clap its hands over almost anything.’’ A statement which bears truth upon its face. You have seen it done. So have I. So have all of us. Lavedan then, with this for text, went on to talk about the future of French plays—that is to say, the immediate future. The type of young girl of the drama has changed very much, he thinks, in the last quarter of a century. The beginning was with the ardently romantic but still chaste young lessies of Feuillet, Meilhac, Halevy, d’Augier and Dumas. Then came the touchingly loyal ‘“‘Denise,’’ whose sins were unpardonable in her own day but which, in the light of the present, and by the side of modern heroines, makes her anotner Joan d’Arc by comparison. The maidens of Gyp and others followed but even these, bad as they were, saved themselves the final degradation and in time. “At present,’’ Lavedan continued, ‘‘we have the honor of presenting to Europe the spicy type ’ s " oo of ‘the young girl who is not a young girl,’ and who would be known as a girl of France— a sophisticated young girl, strong of mind, weak of flesh; who influences her parents with the faculty with which she is influenced; a young girl who with her first corset has already a man and an infant; a young girl of free love and a right to a good time and who at last thinks only of money, pleasure and death!’’ And the future! No doubt, said Lavedan, the murder of babies will be justified on the Stage, and, as at the vaudeville, where he saw “‘the family’’ stand on its feet at the speech of the young girl, “the family’’ will cheer again when this same young creature further developed, informs her mother that she bas had an infant whose father was a stranger whom she spoke to on the train. What has become of the infant? the mother asks. ‘1 killed it because | loved it!’’ will be the reply. “Had 1 not loved it, I would have let it live. But loving it, 1 felt it my duty to kill it before it knew pain, suffering and sin!’’ “And you were right, my daughter!’”’ the mother will say, tenderly: ‘‘Bend and let me kiss your chaste forehead. You committed no crime—you only prevented one by your deed. How happy should I have been had my mother done the same with me when | was but a baby! Then I should never have known your brute of a father. Embrace me, my daughter, embrace me again. You did well!’ These are the things which Henri Lavedan says we shall see on the French stage in the near future. I wonder what Mr. Frohman, Mr. Belasco, Mr. Augustus Thomas, Mr. Clyde Fitch, Mr. William Winter, Mr. Alan Dale and other managers, producers, playwrights and critics generally, in America think about it and what, in the meantime, will be the status of Stage literature at home. * Every day or so one hears something or other concerning the new play, Chantecler, of M. Edmond Rostand. The author is now in Paris for the purpose of assisting at the rehearsals which will take place at the Theatre Porte Saint-Martin in all likelihood, this being the playhouse of Coquelin, aine., who is to take the principal role. As this is written, my attention has been called to an item of news from Madrid, to the effect that before many days a play similar to Rostand’s will be produced by a Spanish writer, Senor Linares Astray, at the Teatro Espanol. All the characters, instead ‘of being birds, are animals, and it is said the author is anxious to have it produced before Chantecler, in order to eliminate before it becomes possible, any talk about its being like the Rostand production. + A new piece has been put on at the Chatelet, entitled Les Adventures de Gavroche. La Chatte Blanche, the musical revival, has been dropped for the time being at least. * Now what do you think of this? If there is one set of men on earth who deserve the sympathy of everybody, but get less than none, it is the man in the box-office. He is constantly the target for the million and one silly questions propounded by the lady who wants two seats and asks if both are on the aisle and though she does not want them, how much are the two-dollar seats worth—and now comes a jury which acquits a man for murdering one. The trial has just closed. Unable to see the stage from a seat he occupied at the Theatre de la Scala, an Italian artist named Trombetta, returned to the boxoffice and claimed either a change of seats or his money back. The box-office official refused both requests, whereupon an argument ensued. The man, a fellow named Duchemin, then laid violent hands upon Signora Trombetta who was present, when the artist drew his revolver and fired. Duchemin was killed. It is quite possible that the jury, under the circumstances did the right thing. But the idea is, that there are mighty few Duchemins in the world, and though the public may think the average box-office man curt, the fact remains, that considering the constant nagging to which he is subject, he is nothing short of a marvel of self-repression. It is not beyond the pale of reason that this dead man had been more than unusually nervously inclined and his nerves couldn’t stand the strain. Had the shoe been on the other foot, it is quite believable that he, too, might have been acquitted on the ground of temporary insanity caused by the peculiarly grinding nature of his duties. + Miche, the new play which will eventually succeed Le Passe-Partout, at the Theatre Gymnase, will have in the cast Dumeny, Dubosc, Dax, Arvel, and the Mms. Marthe Regnier, Mistinguett and Damiroff. The piece is by G. A. de Caillavet. + After the fire -in Chicago, theatres all over the country were compelled to do all sorts of things, necessary and unnecessary, for the protection of their audiences. There is a rule in the official archives of the Paris police some place, to the effect that there shall be in every theatre, a couch, first aid supplies and so on. The other day a man was seized with congestion while at a performance and died before he could reach home. Now unless signs fail, all the playhouses will have to install regular hospitals in their houses, where aching heads may be cured or legs amputated. + After conquering America, Isadora Duncan has descended upon this little city by the Seine. They’ve dancers of their own here, but Miss Duncan can no doubt well take care of herself in any company of trippers of the light fantastic. MM. Isola arranged through Miss Duncan’s Paris representative, M. Lugne-Poe, for the appearance of the artiste in a series of performances at La Gaite, at which she will be seen in conjunction with upils from her own school of dancing. The Lamoureux orchestra, one of the most famous in France, under the direction of the equally famous M. Camille Chevillard, furnishes the music for the dancers. The series of matinees take place on Tuesdays and Saturdays. The theatrical profession in Paris were not behind their brothers and sisters in other parts of the world in donating their services at benefits for the afflicted Sicilians and Calabrians. Here, as in other big cities of the world, many performances were given and big sums of money raised, one of the mort enjoyable being that given at the Opera Comique, when Carmen, with a very notable cast, was given. The stars from the opera sang with the stars of the Comique, a wonderfully brillant performance resulting. The profession the | CAN LOOK YOU SQUARE IN THE EYE When | say that the HALLBERG is the only machine that does all that is claimed for it—If you doubt me ask any moving picture man in your city. I hadto convince them, they will convince you. Some people say I spend a fortune in advertising—it’s not so. I havea thousand users of the machine who are boosting for it—-and let me tell you Mister Skeptic, this hardfisted, cold blooded, old world hasn’t time to boost anything that isn’t right. If you’re sick, some friend immediately prescribes a remedy or wants you to see his doctor. Why? He has your interest at heart— for just the same reason he recommends a HALLBERG to you—it has cured him of a financial headache, it will do the same for you. Of course if you want to squander money in exorbitant electric current bills, don’t get a HALLBERG—but if you're onthe jobfor all that’s init—talk tome. Here are my claims for the HALLBERG: a Greatest economy of current. —»Perfect regulation of the Arc. —3— Absence of heat. _— Absolutely fireproof. —s— That it will last a lifetime. —e That it is noiseless? a In the matter of price? There’s the best argument of all. Write me for my new year’s proposition. Mention that you want my new calendars. J,H. HALLBERG, 30 Greenwich Ave., WEW YORK. _