Variety (September 1913)

18 VARIETY AMERICA There is something about the new Hippodrome spectacle that suggests the producers are in much the same difficulty that confronted the circus impresario a few years ago» and still does, for that matter. In their own language the big top showmen were "up against it" for some feature that would attract attention by its daring, ciddity, or unique appeal to a degree that would furnish a public topic of comment everywhere. It will be re- membered that the circus men took rciuge behind the public declaration that they were "passing up freaks" and (•epending upon ^ performance of gen- eral excellence and interest. "America" looks very much like a similar move. It is a big spectacle and there is much beauty in its kaleidoscope of events, but it is without that Big Incident that would stamp it emphati- cally as This Year's Hippodrome Show and give it honorable and notable mem- bership in the fine series of produc- tions at the big playhouse. Once, when the evening was well ad- vanced, it did look for a moment as if r sensation was about to be sprung. The stage was set in a particularly gorgeous mimicry of the Grand Canon of the Colorado and an automobile, with its tonneau full of passengers was made to shoot down a steep road and plunge kerplunk into the tank. The fatal omission here, however, was the absence of surprise. When the scene was first disclosed it was patent to the audience that just that dive was to be expected, and the mechanics of the performance were revealed. Another well meant "thriller" was excellently worked, but presented no novelty. This was a stage conception of "Fighting the Flames," carried out with a wealth of whirlwind action and startling counterfeit of reality, but the affair has long ceased to be a drawing card at the beaches, where it became familiar to metropolitan audiences. The managers have not, perhaps, dealt as generously with their audi- ences as usual in the matter of cos- tume display, but even then the per- formance makes a satisfying exhibi- tion of richness. Every art of stagecraft is employed to make the pictures attractive, and they are all of that, to put it very mildly. The usual skill is likewise ap- parent in the handling of the ballets, from a dainty simple novelty in which a bevy of maids sail yachts with one- man power behind their china silk sails to the final pageant, "The Court of Honor." This last ballet is far from being as elaborate as some of the for- mer achievements, but it is pretty and graceful, and puts an appropriate period to an enjoyable display. One of the prettiest bits of chorus ideas was a tango. Our old friends, the Australian Woodchoppers, programed as Won- derful Woodchoppers, appear for their specialty as an incident of the holiday sports of the Panama Canal diggers. Another specialty was the equestrian turn of the Phyllis Equestrians in the same scene. The Equila Brothers showed a rather striking routine of hand-to-hand balancing on the ladder during a scene which called into view several score sure enough Indians in a Pueblo village. There are fifteen scenes representing incidents in the chase of a traitor to Uncle Sam by government agents. That was the plot, and it ended when the traitors flopped into the tank, after visiting the Canal Zone, Panama, the Ponce de Leon Hotel in Florida, the New Orleans levee, a farm in Vermont, Delmonico's, and New York's slums. You took the plot on faith, and it served its full purpose when it oblig- ingly refrained from impeding the swift succession of picture and girl views. There were principals, of course. You will find their names on the pro- gram, but who bothers about Hippo- drome principals? It would never do to pass up men- tion of the fact that there was a suffra- gette parade, and—mark this—there was no effort to josh the Suffs. Every- body applauded tumultously, because the Hip Suffs are most satisfying to look at, and somehow the giggle has been taken out of the subject of late. One impressive scene showed the first steamship going through the Panama Canal. It was splendidly done tively and naturally played by Miss Durand. The Aldens have a prize pair of neighbors in Harvey Beecher (George Hassel) and his ever-spouting wife, Clara (Beverly Sitgreaves). The Al- dens don't speak of money in the same way the Beechers do. Mrs. Alden saves $2,000 by skimping and saving without letting hubby in on the taye. She plans a home on Long Island, but, like many well-laid, regulated plans, they went awry when she went to AI- den's rescue in a real estate deal. To aid her husband and not let him know she had Beecher help her out. Mrs. Beecher, in her usual noseying around, discloses the whole business. A stormy scene follows, in which the truth comes out, the Beechers retreat, and Alden quits flat and wife in a ter- rible huff. In a short act (the third) with little chicks running around the stage Alden, who would not take wifey back when she apologized so humbly, sweetly and contritely, returns quite surreptitiously, and a quick recon- ciliation takes place. "Her Own Money" offers some bully good entertainment in the first two as to light and stage effects, and thus "acts. The third is almost useless, yet adequately mounted made a fine, stir- ring appeal to the imagination and needed no other aid than its momen- tous topical interest. O, yes, to be sure, there were occa- sional musical interpolations, which were very easy to listen to, but which did not long haunt one's memory after their last notes sounded. The new show will probably not start a landslide toward the 44th street cor- ners. Its box office records of other years will probably stand, but it will satisfy its audiences. The very big- ness of the Hippodrome, which of it- self attracted country-wide attention in its earlier career, has by now be- come an old story, and it must "do things" to hold its place as an institu- tion. It does not come up to this diffi- cult mark this year. Ruah. HER OWN MONEY It's no longer a hard trick to take a steam-heated Harlem flat and a shady chicken-infested place on Long Island and turn them into a play for New York production. Some direful things happen in apparently blissful apart- ment domiciles. In Mark Swan's new play, "Her Own Money," all the trouble transpires within the flat occu- pied by Lewis Alden (Sydney Booth) and wife (Julia Dean), who have been married for some time, and quite hap- pily, too, until the matter of money pries loose some unexpected climaxes. The settings are for the most part quite ordinary—a flat and a country home—but it's the dialog that makes the play possible, pleasing and quite diverting. It's remarkable what cer- tain brands of dialog will accomplish nowadays. Two married couples, apartment neighbors, and a prospective bride and groom are the central figures of this piece which had its first New York presentation at the Comedy theatre Monday afternoon. The only other person in the play is Rhoda (Maud Durand), an old colored servant, an apparently insignificant role, but effec- the author must bring the two erst- while apartment turtle doves together, and he does it in the oldest, quickest way possible. Barring an unusually quiet third act, the play was enthusi- astically received. Miss Dean is up to all requirements and qualifications and does some splen- did work. In the second act she puts over a bit of emotional acting sweep- ingly and realistically. Booth as the husband held up his role admirably. Hassel as Mr. Beecher plays in a de- cidedly droll and original manner, while Miss Sitgreaves was never seen to bet- ter advantage than she is in the role of his money-loving, money spending wife. Ernest Glendinning does all that is necessary as the promising young friend of the Aldens who worships at the shrine of Mrs. Alden's sister, Mil- dred Carr. Ellen Mortimer, originally cast for Mildred, was unable to appear at the opening and Louise Gressler sub- stituted at the eleventh hour. She should be complimented for her good work. "Her Own Money" is worth seeing. It's not a great play, but one finds a new atmosphere in it, rising above en- virons which are invariably too the- atric, too stereotyped and too passe to the regular showshop devotees. Mark. ROAD TO HAPriNBSS Chicago, Sept. 3. "The Road to Happiness" as re- vealed at the Garrick Sunday night proves to be a homely play of York State folks, in which William Hodge is seen in a quaint and lovable light from curtain to curtain. The piece is ir four acts and it takes 15 people to unfold the story, although Mr. Hodge bears the brunt. The play was offered for eleven weeks last season in the rural districts where it seemed to please. It is by Lawrence Whitman, a Chi- cago attorney. The author has given the star a most agreeable role, and one that fits him perfectly. The piece is not another "Man from Home," but is a neat and quiet play, with plenty of humor and some little pathos. The story concerns a hard-fisted old squire who resides in Newark Valley^ N. Y. He has a daughter and a step- daughter, the latter named Viola. The squire does not like Viola. He thinks she is going to marry James Porter, the village catch, while the old man wants his own daughter, Eva, to wed that personage. A baby is left on the doorstep of the Hardcastle home. The squire jumps to the conclusion it be- longs to Viola. He turns her from the house, baby and all. James Whit- man, our hero, here comes into the limelight. He takes the girl and the baby to his own home and protects them from all harm, although he comes near to getting a coat of tar and feathers for it. In due time it is learned that the baby is the child of Asa Hardcastle, son of the squire, who had married secretly and had been afraid to tell his father. The mother had died, and the boy brought the child home and left it on the doorstep thinking it would be reared in his own home. Viola is put right before the world, and Eva is folded to the manly brea'^t cf Whitman, the young attorney, and the curtain goes down with everybody happy. Even the old squire is soft- ened, and made to appear almost hu- man. Hodge^ is doing some good charac- ter work, and Sunday night the audi- ence that filled the place greeted the actor with affectionate interest. The nrembers of his company are adequate. It is not a great play, but it is wholesome and human, and will please those who like that sort of thing. Reed. THE MIDNIGHT GIRL "The Midnight Girl" at Adolf Phil- ipps' cosy little playhouse on 57th street is a "warm" attraction—or would be in the English language. It's about an obscure congressman (or its French equivalent, probably a deputy) who is a rather gay dog and pretends his chosen profession calls him constantly to Paris. Musical com- edy license of this brand permits that there happens to be another deputy, equally obscure, of the same name. Perhaps neither is really in politics, but having the name of a renowned socialistic deputy, bask in his glory. That and many such things are still vague to one with a limited knowledge of German. But there are plenty of risque, Frenchy situations that were unmis- takable, probably they are so familiar —the old-fashioned Palais Royal con- jugal complications, the old man with the young wife, and so forth. The second act is located in the lob- by of a "newlywed" hotel, with doors leading into a series of bridal chambers. Upon inquiry it is learned that this is the calibre of entertainment with which Mr. Philipps' audiences are usu- ally regaled and that they not only like, but demand it. It is said the author- manager-actor (and composer, too) can grind these delectable morsels out by fk^ yard. Gee, what a corking bur- lesque writer he'd make! This "Mid- night Girl" i3 hot stuff. Mr. Philipp/B organization is a very