Mr. George S. Kaufman, in collaboration this time with Miss Katharine Dayton, has proved himself something of a doctrinaire in "First Lady". The requirement, of course, was that the doctrine be silly enough to stir up amusement, if not enthusiasm, in American audiences. American audiences haven't pledged themselves, and don't intend to pledge themselves, to anything politically serious. So Mr. Kaufman declares over the interval of two jolly hours that wives are the only things that make the Washington merry-go-round go 'round. Not content with having put love in the White House along with a Mr. Wintergreen, he now suggests that we elect the first lady, and led her husband be President.

Such a state of affairs, with feline animosities dictating destiny, and candidates being made and broken by the jealousies of dignitaries' wives, is bound to bring reminiscences, of similar doings off the stage. But is is not at all necessary to the success of the play that the polotical and social innuendo strike home. The fascinating tangles of the plot and the satire wrapped up in it, are quite sufficient. Jane Cowl, aspiring all the time to the first ladyship, throws the political impetus to her loathed rival's husband, thinking thereby to tie her down to a deadweight and keep her from taking up with a live possibility. The rival's husband is a stodgy jurist who spends his time writing minority decisions and listening to the Woops radio hour, but he is endeared to the public by the possession of a weak stomach. Anyway, Miss Cowl is forced to spend most of play in frantic and comical efforts to break the rising momentum to which she gave the first push.

One knows that the right man will have to win, if only to suppress the tragedienne in Miss Cowl that occasionally begins to crop out. But in general her acting is perfectly attuned to the mood of the play, and it is the way that she and her excellent support pronounce the Kaufman lines that is largely responsible for their success. The actors put the audience in a laughing disposition, which happily manages to tide one over the many barren stretches between the brilliant cracks.