Most heartbreaking it is to find at the Hollis, where the Theatre Guild is opening its Boston season, that Lynn Fontanne has nothing to do. The play is "Meteor", by S. N. Behrman, who wrote "The Second Man" and "Serena Blandish". And though Miss Fontanne is in it, on the stage, in fact, for a good part of it, she is a distinct second fiddle. This is all the more remarkable, because there are few enough actresses of her attainments who would take such a part, and none that would do it with such a fine sense of the artistic unity of the whole, and such a nice realization that she was there purely for background. So superbly is she unobtrusive, so definitely part of the picture, that one forgets she is the same Lynn Fontanne who was the charming mistress in "Caprice", the flower girl in "Pygmalion", the artist's wife in "The Doctor's Dilemma", and Raina in "Arms and the Man".

Perhaps the task of self-effacement is made easier by the fact that the lion's share of the play goes to her husband. Mr. Lunt is the "Meteor", the egoistic genius who, in his spurt of overwhelming success, ruins the lives of all about him. Never has he given a more powerful performance, never displayed so artistically, his uncanny instinct for attack and transition. A long speech in his hands never becomes boring. Each new thought that forms in the character's head is projected definitely by changes in his voice, in his body, and his face.

Moreover, Mr. Lunt proves the rightness of his theory about make-up that actors, these days, rely all too much on the grease-paint and liner for their characters, whereas real art demands that the minimum be used--just enough to project the features--and the facial contours, shadows and high-lights of the character be brought out almost entirely by the actor's mental command of his muscles. See Mr. Lunt in the third act of "Meteor" and he seems on the verge of middle years, with his face lined by the lines of egocentricity. Notice him at the curtain call, when he is out of the character of Raphael Lord, and he seems young and normal and entirely unlined.

The play itself is not the gold mine "Caprice" was. Starting with an over-whelming idea--the saga of a man with a clairvoyant gift that enables him to reap riches in business. Mr. Behrman seemed to flounder, to be a little uncertain of his way. This was particularly evident in the second act. The details are revealing, little turns of character are brought out with subtlety and grace, but it is in the larger strokes, the rhythms and counter-rhythms, the transitions from one scene to another, that one feels an ineptitude that, but for Philip Moclier's unobtrusive direction, and the high standard of the acting, would make the play much less effective than it is.