The Crimson Playgoer

A play in three acts by Maxwell Anderson, now being presented by the Theatre Guild, Inc., of New York at the Colonial Theatre, with the following cast: Elizabeth  Lynn Fontanne Lord Essex  Alfred Lunt Francis Bacon  Morris Carnovsky Lord Burghley  Edward Fielding and others

The Theatre Guild continued a season of mediocrities last night at the Colonial with "Elizabeth the Queen." It is a regrettable commentary both upon the critical acumen of the public and the sterility of the American stage that such second rate productions can find such consistent favor.

The chief concern of the play is the liaison between Elizabeth and her ubiquitous lover, Lord Essex, and its disruption, the result of treason on the part of that famous noble. Like all historical plays interest is created by court intrigue and diplomacy. "Richelieu" and "Disraeli," of the same nature enjoyed, and still enjoy a certain popularity. But these two were written by men who knew both history and the stage. Dramatic effects were deftly and delicately manipulated in order to lend strength and verisimilitude to what were otherwise essentially elementary plots. Maxwell Anderson, on the other hand, possesses a wavering knowledge of the facts and is a bit heavy handed in his construction. What might have been fine melodrama soon resolves itself into rather tawdry emotionalism.

There is no sound motivation in "Elizabeth the Queen" and little attempt to develop a strikingly dramatic situation. Instead the author resorted to rather cheap heroics and shoddy situations to carry the power. The last scene, for carry the power. The last scene, for example, where Elizabeth decides that England means more to her than the life of her lover has real dramatic strength and poignancy. But the drama dwindles off into labored phrases and district hysteria; not the kind of situation one usually associates with Elizabethan gestures.

Mr. Anderson should have had a care to his language. It is the speech of the twentieth century, as a rule, save for the profanity which is bandied about with the true crudity of the period. This may be an unimportant factor, but it is all one with the general tone of the production.

Miss Fontanne had a difficult characterization in Elizabeth for she was a rather colorless, weak sort as the author paints her, and it is hard to make such a person vital in such a play. Aside from her diction and a few unrestrained dramatics that were difficult to avoid, however, she turned in a creditable performance. Mr. Lunt assisted her with no great brilliancy, but as well as his lines would permit. And if the Court Fool was the epitome of Elizabethan wit and humor, "merrie England" is a euphemism.

It may seem that generalities have been dealt with at the expense of a detailed criticism, and that I have been unduly captious. The reason for this is the sincere disappointment felt that one of the best theatrical organizations in America could do no better with a play which has intrinsic qualities of dramatic strength and romance, if I may use the word. It seems only fair for the public to expect a polished and finished production under such circumstances. And, by the same token, it is most unfortunate for them to spend money and time on such a piece of intellectual sterility. If anyone has a sincere desire to know the drama and romance of the reign of Elizabeth I advise him to spend the two dollars on Froude's volume about the Queen. A college room is certainly more restful than the Colonial and the details of Froude more authentic than those of Mr. Anderson. Anyone not possessing that sincere desire had better go to bed.

The Theatre Guild continued a season of mediocrities last night at the Colonial with "Elizabeth the Queen." It is a regrettable commentary both upon the critical acumen of the public and the sterility of the American stage that such second rate productions can find such consistent favor.

The chief concern of the play is the liaison between Elizabeth and her ubiquitous lover, Lord Essex, and its disruption, the result of treason on the part of that famous noble. Like all historical plays interest is created by court intrigue and diplomacy. "Richelieu" and "Disraeli," of the same nature enjoyed, and still enjoy a certain popularity. But these two were written by men who knew both history and the stage. Dramatic effects were deftly and delicately manipulated in order to lend strength and verisimilitude to what were otherwise essentially elementary plots. Maxwell Anderson, on the other hand, possesses a wavering knowledge of the facts and is a bit heavy handed in his construction. What might have been fine melodrama soon resolves itself into rather tawdry emotionalism.

There is no sound motivation in "Elizabeth the Queen" and little attempt to develop a strikingly dramatic situation. Instead the author resorted to rather cheap heroics and shoddy situations to carry the power. The last scene, for carry the power. The last scene, for example, where Elizabeth decides that England means more to her than the life of her lover has real dramatic strength and poignancy. But the drama dwindles off into labored phrases and district hysteria; not the kind of situation one usually associates with Elizabethan gestures.

Mr. Anderson should have had a care to his language. It is the speech of the twentieth century, as a rule, save for the profanity which is bandied about with the true crudity of the period. This may be an unimportant factor, but it is all one with the general tone of the production.

Miss Fontanne had a difficult characterization in Elizabeth for she was a rather colorless, weak sort as the author paints her, and it is hard to make such a person vital in such a play. Aside from her diction and a few unrestrained dramatics that were difficult to avoid, however, she turned in a creditable performance. Mr. Lunt assisted her with no great brilliancy, but as well as his lines would permit. And if the Court Fool was the epitome of Elizabethan wit and humor, "merrie England" is a euphemism.

It may seem that generalities have been dealt with at the expense of a detailed criticism, and that I have been unduly captious. The reason for this is the sincere disappointment felt that one of the best theatrical organizations in America could do no better with a play which has intrinsic qualities of dramatic strength and romance, if I may use the word. It seems only fair for the public to expect a polished and finished production under such circumstances. And, by the same token, it is most unfortunate for them to spend money and time on such a piece of intellectual sterility. If anyone has a sincere desire to know the drama and romance of the reign of Elizabeth I advise him to spend the two dollars on Froude's volume about the Queen. A college room is certainly more restful than the Colonial and the details of Froude more authentic than those of Mr. Anderson. Anyone not possessing that sincere desire had better go to bed.