The Show Must Go On

World War II began by borrowing one of the theatre's best-known devices--the blackout. Blacked out along with everything else were the theatres themselves. But not for long. London, Paris, Berlin hungered for amusement; already during the first week of the war George Bernard Shaw, Margot, Countess of Oxford and Asquith, many another, protested against the "stupidity" of closing the theatres. With a curfew law blotting out London's West End, producers rushed shows to the suburbs. In Berlin, once air-raid precautions were arranged, theatres reopened full blast. If the war runs on, it may well repeat the theatre boom of World War I, when Chu-Chin-Chow achieved the longest run (2,238 performances) in the history of the London theatre.

To the theatres of Europe the war will bring changes, but no spectacular ones. There will be lowered box-office prices. There will be more rigid censorship. On the other hand, there is no sign that the theatre will be used for propaganda. The tendency is all the other way--toward making people forget the war. Commented a reviewer when The Importance of Being Earnest was revived in a London suburb: "Every one realized the importance of not being earnest."

In London, seven of 32 West End theatres are open again, besides those in the suburbs. The West End is still largely restricted to matinees, but managers are seeking the Home Office's permission to stagger the curtain time of evening performances, thus avoid any blackout congestion. Managers are also seeking permission to give Sunday shows. In peacetime, Sunday shows would be howled down by Sabbatarian diehards, but England is least conservative when at war: During World War I she pushed through woman suffrage and daylight saving.

With London's West End all taped up, most of England's best talent is on tour. No important actor has yet gone to the Front, though many important ones are subject to call. Noel Coward, who last year visited the Mediterranean Fleet, "investigating the film tastes of seamen," now works for the Admiralty.

Wow new show, packed with soldiers and sailors and their girls, is the Palladium's wartime revue. Evening's best laugh: a sign over a box reading 40 hommes, 8 chevaux. Most popular song: F. D. R. Jones. The military finale of Act I drops "air raid" pamphlets called Ruthless Rhymes for Little Nastiz from under the roof. Sample rhyme:

Ribbentrop's at Stalin's beck & call

Goebbels, when he's able,

Likes pretending he's Clark Gable

And Goering's got rude pictures on his

wall.

The pamphlet also offers a menu featuring Reich Pudding with anschlauce, Peace Soup, Cooked Goose with Siegfritters.

Witless, but spreading like wildfire, is a Palladium war tune, Run Rabbit Run.* Celebrities in the audience, such as Beatrice Lillie or Ivor Novello, have been yanked up on the stage to bray it out. Novello, composer of World War I's Keep the Home Fires Burning, has written a new marching song, We'll Remember the Meadows, which will be introduced at the opening of his new show next week.

In Paris, all but 2% of the theatres are still under lock & key. At one extreme, the haughty, highbrow Comedie Franc,aise gives three "matinees" a week, from 6 to 9 p.m. At the other extreme is the Concert Mayol, a revue in the style of the Fol!es-Bergere or Bal Tabarin, but much coarser and nuder. With the Tabarin closed, the Mayol--catering to soldiers and dirty-minded old men--is hiring the Tabarin's famed chorines and boasting with a smack of the lips, "Nous aurons de la bonne volatile" ("Plenty of white meat, boys"). Up in arms is the whole Paris press over the Mayol's "war specialty": Girls caught during a raid without gas masks follow the lead of the Canadians caught in the first German gas attacks in 1915.

'No war song has yet captured Paris. Great efforts were made to have Maurice Chevalier launch something called Victoire, la fille de Madelon,/- but he backed out on discovering it was a stinkeroo. Soldiers themselves are still content with time-honored bawdy snatches.

In Berlin, with sidewalk cafes closed and few new films available, most of the theatres are booming. Workers are urged to go to the theatre straight from work, no longer need wear collars & ties. This invitation brings them in droves, though it keeps hoity-toity society folk away.

The State theatres ladle out the classics --Goethe, Schiller, Shakespeare. It is emphasized that the Germans are too "cultured" to ban French and English dramas because of the war, and more Shakespeare--as well as some Wilde and Shaw--is announced for this winter.

Only well-known actor at the Front is Karl Ludwig Diehl. Still appearing nightly in Munich is button-nosed, Hitler-shaped Weiss Ferdl, whose irreverence to the Nazis before war broke out cost him many a fine, once landed him in Dachau's concentration camp. All Germany knows his favorite gag. He raises his arm as if to give the Nazi salute, then says: "At Dachau, the snow is that high."

* For other British war songs, see p. 47.

/-Madelon was the great French marching song during World War I.

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