New Play in Manhattan

Janie (by Josephine Bentham & Herschel Williams; produced by Brock Pemberton) tells of a new Junior Miss up to new junior mischief. It tells it in terms of the present, when small towns lie chockablock with army camps, and harum-scarum, boy-crazy young things, talking weird slang in whiny voices, give high-school seniors the go-by and dashing privates the come-on. One night, while her parents are out, Janie (Gwen Anderson) throws a small party for the military, which by midnight achieves riotous and regimental proportions. Coca-Cola gives way to Scotch, soldiers get locked in bathrooms, jeeps get stalled on the lawn, neighbors scream for the police, and the family unseasonably returns. By 2 a.m., however, everything's shipshape and everyone's asleep.

Janie ought to be more fun than it is. It has some amusing lines, some lively moments. It brings a timely touch of khaki to the timeless absurdities of youth. But it isn't buoyant or spontaneous enough; all its breeze seems to come from an electric fan. It has that terrible noisiness which is the bane of too-innocent merriment. Refreshing is the still, small voice of Janie's baby sister Elsbeth (Clare Foley), who at seven is a past mistress of espionage and blackmail. Elsbeth is funny. The rest is formula.

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