New Plays in Manhattan

The Petrified Forest (by Robert Sherwood; Gilbert Miller, Leslie Howard, Arthur Hopkins, producers). When, in the first 30 minutes of a show, four men appear carrying sub-machineguns, a spectator may be pretty sure that something fairly exciting is going to happen. When, 30 minutes before the curtain is to be rung down, the hero makes an arrangement with one of the gunmen to kill him before they leave, a spectator may be forgiven for twisting his program completely out of shape.

Starting off with the first situation and carrying the second to an odd conclusion, Playwright Sherwood has magnificently presented one tumultuous afternoon and evening in a roadside service station in the far West. Apparently just as much at home in the Black Mesa Bar-B-Q as he was in Hannibal's tent (The Road to Rome) or post-War Austria (Reunion in Vienna), Playwright Sherwood has given a humorous and dramatic three-dimensional panorama of the hamburg and gas-peddling Maples, their young, ex-fullback helper, the rich and insufferable Chisholms who drive up in their Duesenberg limousine. Things really begin to hum when Duke Mantee's mob arrives at the front end of a nation-wide manhunt.

Humblest passer-by is Alan Squier (Leslie Howard, taking temporary leave of the cinema to keep from "going stale") A young intellectual tired of it all, he makes complete arrangements with Duke Mantee to "put the slug on him" so that the Maples' daughter Gabrielle (pert Peggy Conklin of The Pursuit of Happiness) can collect his insurance and go to France.

The final scene, with lights out and the Mantee gang exchanging gunfire with the deputies outside while Alan and Gabrielle lie on the floor with their arms around each other, should raise audiences' hackles higher than anything on the Manhattan stage since the Group Theatre began producing its blood-&-thunder Red melodramas. Spectators get to hoping desperately that in the general gunplay, Duke Mantee (able Humphrey Bogart in a stubble beard) will somehow forget to shoot Actor Howard, who has turned in another of his fragile, impressively assured impersonations to adorn a notable career. But everyone must know his jig is up when he tells Actress Conklin: "We'll be together always--in a funny sort of way."

Music Hath Charms (score by Rudolf Friml; Libretto by Rowland Leigh, George Rosener, John Shubert; Shuberts, producers). In operatic circles, Maria Jeritza has always been as famed for her business acumen as for her wit and charm. She had the good sense to duck out of Music Hath Charms before that mossy opus reached Manhattan.

Composer Friml's score has charm equal to anything he has done in the 22 years which have passed since he wrote High Jinks. "Sweet Fool" is a ballad worthy of place among modern Schmalzmusik. But the libretto with its creaky structure belongs to the bygone era of celluloid collars and beehive police helmets. In surrendering her role to Natalie Hall, Mme Jeritza escaped being a Venetian noblewoman of 1934 who thinks better of spurning a commoner when, in a flashback, she impersonates her own fisher maiden ancestor in 1770 wooing and winning the Duke of Orsano. She also escaped having the following appeal addressed to her: "Ah, Marchesa, wouldn't it be divine if we both went nuts together under a Venetian moon?"

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