REVIEW - Weston Mercury and Somersetshire Herald Friday February 12th 1954 - DRAMATIC SOCIETY'S PRODUCTION OF PROVOCATIVE PLAY

The years of violence have passed, and all that was

horrific about them is best forgotten. But there are

those who would like to forget and cannot. They have

have troubled consciences. Some moment, some

scene is a vivid to them now as when it happened.

Maybe it was an act of violence to which they were

party, something in which they concurred because it

was war and their own lives were at stake.

This is the provocative, absorbing theme of Charles

Morgan's "The River Line" produced by Weston-super-

Mare Dramatic Society at the Playhouse. I reckon it

among the most worthwhile half dozen plays I have

seen by local amateur societies in twenty-odd years of

playgoing. It was a play and a production to remember.

One can always tell when a company has genuine

feeling for the play it is doing. "The River Line" had

obviously gripped the Dramatic Society players.

They were absorbed by its theme, and were deeply concerned that their performance should do justice to it.

        Extraordinary Sincerity

The result was a production that had extraordinary sincerity and was most movingly sensitive. Character after character came to life vividly, speech was finely emotional without ever having a touch of falsity. It was a play that the cast really lived, and which was the more natural because of the earnestness with which the players approached their parts.

The producer, Leslie Titley, has a long record of good service to the local amateur stage. This was his crowning achievement. Coming from the pen of Charles Morgan, "The River Line", of course, is not just a dramatic entertainment. Drama there is in plenty, but the play has splendid intellectual quality.

It is far from easy work to produce, but Mr. Titley's achievement was brilliant.

The settings were most effective, characters finely portrayed, and lines and situations rightly balanced. It was a highly-skilled production of a difficult play.

        The Escape Line

The play's opening act is set in the garden of a Gloucestershire country house in 1947. Philip Sturgess, an American, is on a visit to friends he made during the war while escaping from occupied France. His host, Julian, a former naval commander, is married to a Frenchwoman, Marie, a member of the resistance movement who helped prisoners escape. "The River Line" was that down which members of he Allied forces were smuggled out of the country.

What those who kept the line open feared most was the introduction by the Germans of a fake Englishman, who would be passed from post to post, and who would then give information that would lead to the whole line being mopped up.

        Was Not A Spy

The spirit of a dead man broods over this Gloucestershire house party. Philip, Julian and Marie have memories of a Major Lang, who was nicknamed "Heron". He was one of the escaping party that Marie sheltered in the granary. They all greatly liked him, but there came the moment, when Marie, who loved him, thought she had conclusive evidence that he was a German, and ordered his death. "Heron," however, was no spy.

"They bore their responsibility in the predicament of the world," but this reflection does not ease their consciences. There is introduced a fourth character, Valerie Barton, with whom the American is in love, and who, later in the play, is established as "Heron's" half-brother.

        The Murder

The play's second act is set in the granary, and the action depicts the events leading up to the murder of "Heron." This was a finely contrived scene, with lighting and setting admirably suited to the mood of the action. I did not think the murder was quite realistic enough. Care had to be taken to avoid melodrama and to spare the audience undue horror, but men do not die so easily as did "Heron" in this production. We did not get the moment of "incredulity" - the "why?" - from the victim before he dropped. Action followed the order a little too swiftly, and the poignancy which it was vital to emphasise, was largely lost. A split second difference in the timing would have heightened effect.

        Acceptance

In the third act, the play's action is back in the Gloucestershire garden again, and there is a calming acceptance of the inevitable.

I don't know whether Constance Chapman has ever given a bad performance, but I have never seen her in one. From the moment of her entry as Marie there was the impact of personality, and with it the sudden "lift" that any performance gains with the entry of an actor or actress of unusual ability.

It was not that the rest of the cast were playing poorly; far from it, but - well, Constance Chapman happens to be one of those rare personalities not often met with in provincial theatre-going.

        Took Over At Short Notice

It was typical of her that she should have readily responded to the invitation to take over the part at short notice from Anthea Crundall, who was obliged to drop out. It was typical of her also that she should have surrounded the part with her particular magic.

She contrasted the feminine charm of Marie of the first act with the immense strength of character of the Marie of the second - a woman devoted to a dangerous mission and who accepts, as her duty, the responsibility of ordering the death of the man she loves. Constance Chapman played this scene powerfully, exercising restrain that made it the more affecting.

        Eloquent Moment

There was also an eloquent moment of acting by her and by "Heron" (Reg. Salisbury) when "Heron" remarked, "Dear Marie." It was the one remark in the play that indicated their feelings for each other, and it was finely pointed by play of expression which indicated in a flash their sudden awareness of how deeply attached they had become.

The character of "Heron" dominates the play; and Reg. Salisbury, given only the granary scene in which to realise the character, succeeded splendidly. His was an assured, calm performance, and into brief time he impressively conveyed a figure of outstanding personality, rich in feeling, whose philosophy mad him seem curiously apart from the sordidness of war.

I liked Rene Verbrugge's performance as Philip, the American. Except in the occasional play of hands, it was a study refreshingly free from the familiar characteristics associated with this type of part. Mr. Verbrugge has a frank style of playing that is very attractive, and Philip was an engaging personality.

        Big Surprise

The biggest and most agreeable surprise of the evening, for me, was Shirley Broderick's success as Valerie Barton. I did not anticipate that so young a player, with limited experience, could possibly convince in so sophisticated a role. Her performance had amazing maturity, and marked her as an actress of great promise. She spoke delightfully, with full appreciation of the value and import of lines, and their rhythm while there was also an extremely sensitive quality in her acting. It was a difficult part magnificently played.

        Solid Character

There was good, solid character to Foster Tanner's ex-Naval Commander, Julian Wyburton, and Phyllis Evans was very effective in her brief moments as Mrs. Muriven. Neville Redman ably played Dick Frewer, one of the escaping men, while Leighton Norman's fussy, suspicious and vindictive Frenchman, Pierre, was a perfect study. He had but two or three entrances, but they sufficed to establish character with utmost clarity.

Congratulations to all back-stage on work particularly well done. C.R. Lundman was stage manager, and John Pugh his assistant. Ernest Gibson was electrician, and the admirable settings came from the Fredricks Studios.

Intermission music was provided by Leonard Silver at the piano.                                                                     "EVERYMAN"