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Show MJ t ( H i "'J mi! iiiilfi tOith it he Firrt JVighterj. Ng Hit In j; !jfl ' AND NOW D'ANNUN2lO. - , Hn 11 (UiS Florence Roberts returns to play "Gloconda," HiPi fill If ' "Sapho," "The Unwelcome Mrs. 'Hatch' and the i !lfiji il Augustln Daly version of the "Country Girl" m i ,,! M called "Peggy Thrift." Of these, most of which I' !:jlj are familiar, just one stands out with particular W V interest "Gioconda." We have been patient I through the story of Mrs. Alving, we stood for j Maslova's stormy life, and the disagreeable pic- H IP Hi B f ture of Mary o Magdala, and now we're to have 9 W ?l 9 another dose in the shape of "Gioconda," a freak 9 ffff9 of D'Annunzio's poisonous literature. 9 l) iff 9 I In a11 of tnese the opportunity for the wo-9 wo-9 " i l!9 man who Plavs tlle part Is a ponderous one, 9 ' ' ' l 9 ' and tlie Public crowds to see but what kind of a 9 ' llr9 ' sIgn of tlie tImes Is ifc wIien tno degenerate pro- fl ! i I B ducts of a poetic mind which is unhappy unless fl I'Milli picturing the obscene, are the only plays that 9 'b fill H succeed. The Colonel's lady and Judy O'Grady fl II 'il W are s,sters for sure, and there is a low, morbid H 'I III m streak in most of us, that causes us to crave for 9 ' 1 il! In ! tho sliady disagreeable stories of life, and the B ' I 81 ' : wiseacre critic tells you next morning of the great H '$ i Ml I m ' moral lesson the story conveys. H' lilt For Instance the story of "Gioconda" is this: H ' if II M An Italian sculptor loves his wife and child, and H 1 1 II II Is also deeply enamored with his model who B i ' ' ' I l makes his greatest statue a possibility. He cannot fl j' i I master the double-barreled emotion, so tries to H '1 commit suicide, but fails. B rl! M 1 1 His wlfe nurses him ack to life and sto mIs fll f 114 I 1 takes gratitude for love. She commands his mis- Kl rl'T if tress, the model, to go away, and in a terrible KE ! 'I'll m I scene which follows, the mistress attempts to de- Ihh ' if ill I stroy the statute the wIfe receiving such Injuries BB r 1 II 8 1 In its protection that she loses both hands. BB' " IMf HI 'And tllIs is wnat tne lover of Eleanore Duse, BB Si il B 1 D'Annunzio dedicated to her. The theme is han- 19 '1 11 fl de( n a masterly manner by the poet, and it is Bfll 1 11 m said MIss Roljerts rIses to tne occasion beautiful- H 's 1 1 1 ly, but bah give us the surfeit of rag-time, if 19R ' irF'I we are nave nothing else but the vile concoc- HH " rtff 1 tions handed out by a school of authors who lose B Vki 1 slBt of the sunshine of the wprld in tlieir exulta- BhB IP I .on over moral disease. w' HffH i .& H jj J , W THE MASLOVA OF WALSH. K Wl2m 1 1 'Tolstoy is a merciless chronicler. He walks BBj i) ml 'boldly into the haunts of the defiled, and with a 9 'l ill mm 'Severity as relentless as Ibsen's and wiich has B m Hi in It: sometliIne of thG rigor of the tempests, that B i Pol mm laslx the lcmdom of the .Czar, he tells the story 9l iilllinl o ue luckless lives of the tormented with a 9 ' 'IwBnn pitiless realism. In the "Ressurection," the 9 'v'f dwll 1 great Russian socialist is never didactic and does 9 1 liiSB ' i Preacl1 a sermon. He merely paints a stern 9 i' Ifflw picture in colors which ' are almost haunting in BB MB '1 their somborness. H9 f!1B w Blanche Walsh as Maslova, the hopeless and 9Bvj mmm i shameless Siberian convict on whose face is writ- 9' liwl 1 en ie raSedy of moral abandonment, has am- ' 1m1 1 e clianco for tne exploitation of her great art. Hiy Isl 1 Tne lnnocent SIrl of the prologue and the IiHffi wBW2 wrecked counterpart of the Siberian inferno were a portrayed with uniform- intensity and repression. But no one can enthuse over the spectacle of femininity fallen so low, even when illumined with an art as fine as Miss Walsh's, and it is a real relief when the curtain goes down on the last bleak scene, where Maslova refuses to mar- i ry the princely wrongdoer, while confessing her love for him, and Dimitri leaves her to return to a later love and his princely home. The support is' even and capable, although Mr. Alexander Von Mitzel does not always rise to the opportunities of the part and his art has a much paler tinge I than that of the late Joseph Howarth, who was 1 the Dimitri of Miss Walsh's first production of wHl1" huh the play. Also it may ,be added that Miss Walsh has neither the grace nor charm of ten years ago, and her step is about as elastic as the amble of a west side charwoman. |