The W. P. A. dramatization of "It Can't Happen Here" is not a finished production, but it retains enough of the novel's emotional ferocity to be well worth seeing. There can be no question that the adaption of the novel to a dramatic vehicle constituted a difficult task and that it was not completely successful. Further, it is noticeable that production difficulties are less easily overcome by a federal theatre group than by a private organization.

The scenery, for example, is exceptionally amateurish and crude. Yet the play at times attains so high a pitch of intensity that the "props" are of no importance whatsoever. More important as an obstacle to total absorption in the theme are the constant and lengthy breaks between scenes--and there are twelve of them--during which a shrill W. P. A. orchestra performs wretchedly. This reviewer, for one, would infinitely prefer complete silence and an undisturbed opportunity to develop the progression of thoughts induced by the previous scenes.

The fact remain, however, that "It Can't Happen Here" is a creditable piece of work. Much, of course, is lost in the transference, much of the depth and background of the characters' lives has been sacrificed in favor of the more melodramatic happenings of the book. There is no denying, however, that some of the political characterizations, the mob scenes, the insolent brutality of armed ruffians, the gripping terror but persistent courage of the Jessup family become realities in the mind of the spectator.

The cast is almost entirely responsible for surmounting the obvious obstacles and weaknesses of the play. This reviewer confidently expected a sorry play acted by a cast of second-rate stock-company players, but he was pleasantly surprised. The parts of the small-town liberal editor, Doremus Jessup, of sharp-tongued Lorinda Pike, uncouth, imbecilic Shad LeDue, capitalistic Francis Tasbough, suave, silken Commandant Swan and sanctimonious Parson Prang are filled competently, even played momentarily with flashes of insight. It is no fault of theirs that the audience occasionally laughs in the wrong places; rather it is the fault of the medium, for the use of exaggeration and caricature is at all times, terrifying rather than ridiculous in the novel.

Except for Parson Prang, the political characterizations are weak. The none too obvious but nevertheless pertinent implications about the present administration have, of course, been totally disregarded, much to the detriment of the story. And then, too, the dramatic presentation makes overmuch of a buffoon of "Buzz" Windrip.

All in all, however, the play is an interesting experiment. Its indictment of Fascism, if not always thoroughly convincing, is violent and often impressive. The theatre-going public owes itself a view of this production, particularly for comparative purposes. Technically the movie that is being produced at the present writing, according to reports, will probably be greatly superior to the play. Whether it will be superior in other respects remains to be seen.