The company is led by Mme. Jeanne
Granier, an actress who could not be better in her own way unless she
acquired a touch of genius, and she has no genius. She was thoroughly
and consistently good, she was lifelike, amusing, never out of key;
only, while she reminded one at times of Rejane, she had none of
Rejane's magnetism, none of Rejane's exciting naturalness.
The whole company is one of excellent quality, which goes together like
the different parts of a piece of machinery. There is Mme. Marie
Magnier, so admirable as an old lady of that good, easy-going,
intelligent, French type. There is Mlle. Lavalliere, with her brilliant
eyes and her little canaille voice, vulgarly exquisite. There is M.
Numes, M. Guy, M. Guitry. M. Guitry is the French equivalent of Mr. Fred
Kerr, with all the difference that that change of nationality means. His
slow manner, his delaying pantomine, his hard, persistent eyes, his
uninflected voice, made up a type which I have never seen more
faithfully presented on the stage. And there is M. Brasseur. He is a
kind of French Arthur Roberts, but without any of that extravagant
energy which carries the English comedian triumphantly through all his
absurdities.
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