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BARRY WRITE'S A TRUE CHARACTER COMEDY

You and I: by Philip Barry. New York: Brentano's. 1923.

By W. C. J.

To those of us who are in the habit of attending the theatre of today, and of witnessing, perforce, some of the horrible mixtures of farce and comedy served up to us by authors, who, apparently, distinguish not at all between the two moods, a play such as "You and I" must come as a welcome relief. For here Mr. Barry has given to us not a comedy which ever and anon lapses into farce, but a true comedy of character. With the sure touch of the artist, and with rare humour, the author has revealed to us a portion of the life of the people around us, and it is pleasant to leave his play, and, going into the world outside, to find there men and women with hopes, ambitions and failings so similar to those whose troubles and difficulties he has here so deftly and sympathetically portrayed. And yet--Heaven and the author be thanked-there is none of that thick and cloying sentimentality which so often appears in play where tragedy underlies comedy, and of which motion picture scenario writers are such ardent devotees. No praying mothers, weeping sisters, or sons who fight their way back from the lowest depths of degradation for the love of a maid are here; but fine, whole-some men and women who are able to meet both fortune and the reverse with a smile, and, if the latter overwhelm them, can still smile--and try again. Delicately, and with a wonderfully sympathetic understanding Mr. Barry reveals to us Maitland White's tragedy--the tragedy of the artist who rejects his calling in favor of marriage and business, and realizes his mistake too late. The fact that his friend Nicholis, who chose the other road and is now the author of several mediocre novels, envies White's position in life gives to this tragedy, moreover, a strong ironic value.

But it is in the skill with which the author has revealed to us the ties that bind father, mother, and son that the chief beauty of the play lies. Roderick contradicts and corrects his parents with all the impudence and contempt for their views so characteristic-or supposedly so-of young men and women of the present generation. They, in return, treat him with amused tolerance. But behind it all one feels a wealth of affection that is beautiful as it is strong.

The chief fault of the play is the ending, which leaves one with the unsatisfied feeling of something yet to come; but this is a small point compared with the many splendid dramatic qualities that it possesses.

To read a comedy so thoroughly well characterized, so technically good, and containing such brilliant dialogue is, indeed, a rare treat.

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