THE GREAT GOD BROWN

There are Browns at Harvard. But there are also Jones and Cabots and Smiths. So no particularly cogent reason exists for this overemphasis on Brown And, to be precise. Brown really does not represent any college type--even the tinniest--half as much as he does a Gandle or a Gissing, created by the quixotic gesture of a far from accurate pen.

Yet not only does Metro-Goldwyn waste Jack Pickford on an attempt to do him justice but the Harvard Dramatic Club forgets the plays of Prague and Harbin and points cast to do its own Brattleian homage to this Great God Brown. Surely the indignation or scorn of honest laughter of the Jones, the Cabots and the Smiths is more than just justified.

That anyone who appreciates the moving picture genre will understand how moving picturesque is Brown seems obvious. The film version is not half so fair to the Radcliffe author an to the humorist who retouched the story for the screen. But perhaps it is fair enonugh. The Dramatic Club must now have its try. And if it succeeds as III as Metro-Goldwyn, one can only hope that organization return in short order to the garbled gibberish of Russia, Slovakia, and--as has been suggested--points east.