Dew Drop Inn. This is a dancing show—whenever the plot lags or the music becomes too plaintively reminiscent of every other musical comedy of the year, the cast livens things up by bursting into a spasm of dancing :—and someone is dancing nearly all the time. Which is as it should be, for all the dancing is good, and James Barton's eccentric shuffling and fandangoing are incomparable. There seems to be practically nothing this stringy personage cannot do with his feet and legs—they are flexible as spaghetti—you feel that he could tie them behind his ears in a true-lovers' knot if he chose. The show contains nothing else noteworthy except a delightfully stupid trick dog.
Alexander Woollcott: " Barton . . . you should mention him in the great company of Nijinski and Charles Chaplin."
Heywood Broun (who protested loudly the wisdom of this year's Pulitzer award): " More than possible that Dew Drop Inn will win the Pulitzer Prize for next year.''
The Comedy of Errors. The Ethiopian Art Theatre offered, as the second bill of its repertory season, Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors, played in the interior of a circus tent, with ringmaster in a top-hat and false moustaches directing the change of scenes, and a jazz-band titivating itself offstage in the pauses of the action. Most of the critics seem to agree in the opinion that the jazz was good, the performance fair and Mr. Shakespeare could do better if he really tried.
To many, the daring experiment of farcing what was obviously written as a farce, instead of playing it in the more usual " Oh Lord, here's a classic!" manner, seemed highly successful. As successful as could be, considering the fact that most of the Elizabethan cross-fire and comic patter, has, like nearly all good topical stuff, lost much of its sting with the passage of the slang and catchwords of its day. The plot (mistaken identities) was, of course, a hardy perennial even before Shakespeare— and there are few " familiar quotations " in the Comedy of Errors to help or hinder the audience into a feeling that they are being educated instead of amused. But the misadventures of the various Antipholuses and Dromios—played with speed and nonchalance wherever possible, as the Ethiopian players did it—can still entertain those not too acutely conscious of " The Possible Future of the Drama," or " Shakespeare as They Performed him When I was a Boy."
John Corbin: "... high spirits refused to be Conan Doyled."
Heywood Broun: "... even I'm Just Wild About Harry could not stir exceedingly dead Elizabethan bones. "
Bombo. A slightly revamped edition of one of Al Jolson's greatest successes, returning to the Winter Garden for a short sojourn. Mr. Jolson is as unctuous, ingratiating, plaintive and humorous as ever.
The Playgoer: "Al Jolson is at the Winter Garden and all's right with the world."
The New York Evening Post: "... amusing every minute . . . show is as good as ever arid that is saying a lot."