New Plays

Lady of the Rose. When Martin Flavin wrote Children of the Moon, two seasons ago, he received mention as another dramatist of promising consequence. From time to time rumors of further works from his pen were in the air, but Lady of the Rose is the first to actually materialize. It is a rude disappointment. Lady of the Rose suffers from bad writing and is in an agony of inefficient acting.

The idea started rather well. A playwright lost in his youth the manuscript of his favorite work, never produced. The play heroine of his mind and heart tempted him into marriage with an actress of the same general appearance. The flesh and blood lady proved a false reality. Years later, she found the lost play, produced it, killed the sacred phantom with which her husband lived. There was little left for him to do but die.

Mr. Flavin's reach exceeded his grasp so far that the lines seemed at times only to mock his genuine imaginative creation. Occasionally, he lapsed into blank verse. Lapsed is the word. Or possibly it was the terrible playing.

And now that Mr. Flavin has had an artistic success and a flat failure, he is ripe to do something rather fine and durable.