Gertrude Lawrence is both more and less than a great actress. She is less in that she has yet to play the sort of sustained dramatic part that characterizes the work of a Katherine Cornell or a Judith Anderson. She is less, because whenever she undertakes non-musical roles such as Liza in "Pygmalion," her own virtuosity substitutes for the content of the play at various points throughout her performance.

But when, as in "Tonight At 8:30," she can sing, dance, mumble, and drape herself over couches and double beds while singing Noel Coward's smart talk around the stage, Miss Lawrence becomes the most entertaining performer, the most scintillating personality, on the American stage. This particular Coward opus was originally presented with Miss Lawrence some years ago, and then consisted of nine one-act plays. The current edition contains only six of the nine, but the star nonetheless has ample opportunity to display her remarkably diversified talents over the course of the two evenings required to complete the cycle.

The first group--presented on Monday, Thursday, and Saturday evenings and Wednesday matinees--contains a bedroom farce, a musical period piece, and an "interlude with music." This last could more accurately be called a modern view of British vaudeville. It is the most dazzling of the three, and presents Miss Lawrence in one of the great comical feats of recent times. She and her able partner, Graham Payn, playing a vaudeville team, appear as rod-headed cockney sailors, and go through a song, dance and joke routine that can only be described as out of this world. The play progresses through a scene in their dressing room, where Miss Lawrence buffoons her way about the stage in various states of dress and undress, and ends on another vaudeville interpretation, this time with Payn and Miss Lawrence dressed in top hat and tails. It is the zenith of unadulterated entertainment.

The opening play--'Ways and Means"--is typical Coward, taking place in a luxurious bedroom on Cote D'Azur. It is slick, refined, and witty--at times too much so. The famed Coward vencer tends to get so shiny that no other values can be seen through the glitter.

"Family Album," the remaining play, is a sentimental period piece. Its mood is bittersweet, and Coward has written one of his best bittersweet songs for it--a waltz entitled "Hearts and Flowers." And if it is not so neat as the opener, it is also nowhere nearly so superficial.

(The remaining group of three plays will be reviewed in tomorrow morning's edition of the CRIMSON.)