Broadway calls it sex, critics call it art, science calls it anthropology, but whatever it is, it's worth your money. Since a very small percentage of the audience knew or cared whether it was science or art, it would be best to report it as it struck the eyes of an amateur.
There's a fine array of hot music that had most of the audience tapping its feet and wiggling around in its chairs. The first part is native rars tonga and what not, punctuated with plenty of staccato drum beating. The second part is mostly American songs, including "Kansas City Blues" and "Dark Town Strutters Hall."
For the wolves, there are plenty of women, for the most part good-looking and wearing no more clothing than the occasion demands. "During the first performances," states the program, "the costumes often used to come off and are held on by an intricate system of zippers and strong threads."
The men seemed more skillful dancers, in general, but the performances were very good throughout. The weak point of the evening was the singing. Although a chubby foursome, the Dowd quartet, gave a good account of themselves, the singing of Miss Dunham; as well as that of guitar-strumming Bobby Capo, could well have been omitted.