The final curtain of the Harvard Dramatic Club's production of Andreyev's "Life of Man", at Brattle Hall last Tuesday evening, left a profound impression on the audience as a whole, and an impulsive desire on the individual's part to rush up and shake hands all around, with producers and actors alike, on the success of this, their supreme achievement. Last year, in "Beranger", the club undertook what many thought to be a task beyond its scope and power--and finished it with high credit to themselves. In the present instance, this courageous little group of workers entered upon a doubly difficult problem--one that called for the utmost imagination and adaptability--and have admirably, yes, magnificently, succeeded.

Humor Relieves Air of Tragedy

A thing well done must be commended, and after the first burst of enthusiasm is over it requires considerable effort to get down to a normal critical plane and find anything like the perspective so easily applied to the average play. In the first place, Andreyev's "Life of Man" is obviously the work of a playwright who sees little or no hope for man in his present state of society. It is bitter, deeply so in parts, and tries at every turn to focus the listener's attention on the utter futility of Man's days on earth, and the frailty of his very work. With this as the dominant note, one might expect a Maeterlinck gloom to pervade the whole, but such is not the case. Andreyev was fortunately gifted with a unique sense of humor--almost Rabelaisian at times, and this flashes cheerfully forth at opportune moments. More than this; it never enters a really critical situation nor spoils a perfectly rounded and intensely dramatic picture of grief. Andreyev's humor is under control at all times. In his use of symbolism he is elusive to an almost irritating point, and then again he will be as clear as the boldest realist.

Prologue Rather Long

One found, I think, that the prologue was just a bit too long to say what it did. The "Being in Gray" had a rather difficult role--especially in the play proper--and Mr. Jackson executed it well, although a more resonant quality in the voice and a lower speaking tone would have heightened the effect of mystery. The candle of the Prologue was interesting, and fairly conveyed the impression of the ebb and flow of life.

The first scene, in the light of the subsequent four, was disappointing. There was not enough reality to the witches, and the strident, crackling tones of old women was not realized. There was too much restraint in the acting of the Doc- tor, the father, and kinsmen, furthermore. Sentences were too rounded, and uttered in too much of a "there,-that's-over-with" manner. Only the spark of a candle and "man is born" were really impressive.

Amazing symmetry of setting was the first impression of the second scene, for here Mr. Oenslager had incorporated the most modern of ideas with a simplicity that was extremely charming. Man,--now grown to man's estate and married--is undergoing the pangs of poverty, and the visit to his humble quarters by kinsfolk seems to establish more clearly his state of utter want. In the part that follows, J. J. Collier and Miss Secoy did a really splendid piece of acting. Andreyev has unfettered his wings of imagination and let them soar at will. The ecstasy, the pathos, the stabbing joy of building castles in the air, or high above a fjord, were portrayed with a remarkable degree of freshness and enthusiasm. The author has a most happy way of allowing his hero to beat his luminous wings and then bring him up sharply with a prosaic and realistic thought, half-regretfully expressed.

Difficulties in Handling

Undoubtedly the most difficult scene to handle was the third, in which Man, now a rich and influential playwright, gives a ball for his friends. Skillful in balancing the previous scene when Man and his wife were the seekers, the ambitious ones, and the unfortunates, against their single and dramatic appearance (without a word on their part) in this scene, Andreyev has brought his symbolism into play anew; and the chorus of "how costly", "how gorgeous", "honor", mock adoration, etc., satirizes the autocracy of wealth. The maddening monotony of all this is only excelled by the musicians, who labored heroically under riotously fantastic wigs, and who made the air blue with one persistent ditty. The Enemies of Man have their dramatic moment when they appear on the left of the balcony, clad in gloomy, black beetle coats, which with exaggerated cringing, makes them the more frightful. Finally they gather their oilskins together and dash politely off the stage.

Swift Action in Fourth Scene

Scene four opens with a tolerably humorous Doctor who is a bit scatter-brained. He is, among other things, in search of Man's son, who has been fatally injured. All of which may be laid aside to mention the admirable interpretation of the prayer of Man and his wife. How different this woman's prayer was from that which she made in the second scene! What a rich increase of fervor and devotion in this offering now! All the littleness, all the puniness of man, is compassed in this one heartrending appeal to save a Son--an appeal not granted. The dramatic rise from the Toy scene to Man's curse, uttered on the death of his son, is swift and of undeniable power. Here the dramatist is at his height--and the actors were not far behind.

The final moments of Man's life, and his pitiful forsaken condition is the aim of the fifth and closing scene. Again Mr. Oenslager has scored, for one will seldom see a more perfectly executed set, with respect to balance, artistic taste, simplicity and magical effect, than this. The lighting here, as all through the play, is soft and entirely appropriate. The effect of a house in ruins was well brought out, although a trifle more illumination would not have spoiled the scene. Again one felt here that the kinsmen--now loud in their denunciation of Man who lives to no purpose--have too much restraint about them. Alexander Hamilton, the Heir from the Street, shares in this stage-consciousness until the witches enter, when he does some capital acting. (It is a notable fact that whenever anybody on the stage says he will come back, he does so, and the witches are no exception). Here they were at Man's death, doing some of their best chuckling of the evening.

To Mr. Seymour, who coached the production,--and he must have taken infinite pains about it--to Mr. Oenslager, whose scenery designs were in a large measure responsible for the success of the play--and to Mr. Stralem for his lighting effects, go the honors. Mr. Salinger's music deserves great credit, especially that written to precede the second act, which was particularly in keeping with the tone of the acting. Mr. Brown, who has kept the Dramatic Club steadily rising in the standard of its productions, may feel assured that this play, in its Boston production, will arouse interest to an unusual degree