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Ginger. Productions like this incubate and hatch the musical comedy population. Little Everest Smudge, aged 13, watches from the top gallery. Hope surges to his heart. "I'll go on the stage," he whispers to himself. "I could do better than that. God knows I couldn't do worse."
The Grand Guignol.* Manhattan had steeled itself too sternly against the advent of this reign of terror. The horrors failed to horrify. Accordingly those who came to cringe remained to scoff, and the opening was declared just another one of those things.
It is possible that the début program was deliberately temperate in deference to the inexperience of American audiences in theatrical terrorism. Frantic screeds from the offices of the promoters asseverated that the true spine shatterings would begin with the second week's bill. Mild scepticism greeted these promises. The cynical theatrical population dared the visitors to rearrange its smooth marcel into a prickly pompadour.
Yet the Grand Guignol occupies a unique niche in the theatrical world; faithful followers of the drama can hardly omit it from their agenda and retain the while their self-respect. For the casual amusement seeker the entertainment is only mildly recommended. Particularly if his linguistic equipment is limited to "oui" and "Zelli."
Percy Hammond: "Rather respectable and not particularly flesh creeping."
John Corbin: "The protagonists roar very gently."
Ziegfeld Follies. The very first night of their life the new Follies carried on until after 2 a. m. Mr. Ziegfeld threw all his beautiful battalions, all his comics, all his scenery, all his singers into the initial attack. After five hours of combat there were casualties. Sufficient members survived to form the nucleus for another of the greatest shows on earth. On the general staff this season are Fanny Brice, Edna Leedom, Hap Ward, Harland Dixon, Bert and Betty Wheeler, Brooke Johns, Paul Whiteman. Though with the possible exception of Miss Brice and Mr. Whiteman none of them have attained Who's Who, they are extraordinarily entertaining. The chorus, with the most extensive personnel in history, seems again to have that fatal gift of beauty which is as Lethe to Manhattan and wandering millions from the outlying villages.
The New York Times: "It will be a great Follies when it is cut down to fit a theatre."
Alexander Woollcott: "Florenz Ziegfeld has done it again."
* The Grand Guignol is a French repertory company operating normally in a converted church at the end of the Rue Chaptal, Paris. They specialize in farce and bizarre tragedy.