Theatre Production - Butterflies

When "The Palace of Puck" was produced at the Haymarket Theatre it was felt that it had in it all the elements of a charming musical play. The characters lent themselves to musical treatment, and the plot was of the fantastic description which is so attractive when allied with captivating melody. It may be that "Butterflies" has not retained altogether the spirit of the original play, but for all that it is not only quaintly amusing, but it is interesting from a more serious point of view than the ordinary musical comedy. Without being pretentious, it has a merit which will commend itself to those who like to take their amusement with a certain amount of gravity and yet feel that the brighter and lighter side of life is fully represented.

PRESS REVIEW

(The Mercury [London UK] - 23rd May, 1908)
Butterflies

Lilting, light-hearted music, pretty faces, pretty frocks, pretty scenery, laughter and brightness - and Miss Ada Reeve full of dash and merriment - such is the sum total of "Butterflies," which delights crowded houses at the Apollo Theatre. The play is above the average of musical plays, with their perpetual boulevard and "Gay Paree" scenes; for the play is the "Palace of Puck," which Mr. W. J. Locke, on second thoughts, has turned into a jolly musical comedy. The plot is kept intact. We have the material Christopher Podmore, admirably played by Mr. Fred Edwards, disapproving of everything that makes life merry, until he becomes one of Puck's butterflies. We still have Puck (Mr. Louis Bradfield), and his fantastic palace of happy-go-lucky Bohemians such as Max Riadore (played by Mr. Hayden Coffin), and Peter, the young man without a penny. But on Miss Ada Reeve's shoulders the burden of the play falls. She is the life and soul of the piece, with her rippling laughter and sweet voice. When she sang " I want some one to be fond of," it was good to look round at the audience smiling in enjoyment. The music is of the kind that sets the feet tapping, and the choruses have a swing and a go that carry one right into the Palace of Puck itself.

Miss Iris Hoey's rendering of "The Lily and the Grub" calls for special mention even among so many bright and tuneful items. One of the prettiest lyrics, "Never Mind," by F. H. Read, music by J. A. Robertson, sung by Miss Ada Reeve:

Ah! Believe me you will find
Never constant to one mind,
Lovers waver with the wind.
Stormy gusts bring up the rain
Each to-morrow brings again
Vows as frail and hopes as vain.
Stormy love must end in tears;
Woo it with its hopes and fears,
Fickle still, it disappears.
Does he praise your lips and eyes
With a storm of vows and sighs
Of a love that never dies?
Wait! to-morrow your fond lover
Swears as madly to another
Thus eternally to love her.
When with grief your heart is torn
Will you sit and sigh forlorn
For a faithless lover gone?
No! but answer scorn with scorn.
Love came light as breezes blow
As he came the rogue shall go
To the wind his pleadings throw.
So believe me when you find
Lover of inconstant mind
Fling him from you to the wind
Find another - Never mind!

And who can imagine that with Miss Ada Reeve in the title role that there is anything lacking from the lighter and brighter side? Her name, her reputation, her volatile talent, all go to tell us that we may look for cheery moments, and we get them. It is a long time since we have welcomed Miss Ada Reeve in a stage play, and her return to what we may call the legitimate is something for which we must be grateful. As the witch in the strange company of people who make up the guests at the chateau, Miss Reeve is fitted with a part which not only suits her personality, but which also allows her opportunities for introducing the particular kind of piquant song that is so well adapted to her style.

Miss Reeve is well supported by a cast that includes such accomplished artists as Mr. C. Hayden Coffin, Mr. Louis Bradfield, Mr. Fred Edwards, and Mr. Lauri de Freece. Mr. J. A. Robertson's music is very melodious, and the composer directed a very efficient orchestra.

You have kindly asked me to give some account of "Butterflies," the musical version of my "fantastic" comedy, "The Palace of Puck," produced last year at the Haymarket.

"Butterflies," however, is now at the Apollo for all the world to see, whereas "The Palace of Puck" is a thing of the past, as far as London is concerned, and only lives as a memory. And perhaps this memory might be revived in the minds of playgoers if I recalled the little philosophic purpose of the play. I took three honest suburban people, father, mother and daughter, who from the circumstances of their training and environment had been blind to the sweet and beautiful things of the world. The chief blindness lay in the father and mother who had married and lived together in the dull prosaic British way, without realising their own or each other's inner qualities that make for life. I put them suddenly in a gay fantastic environment, "The Palace of Puck," where, everything being all the time sweet and clean, they should find a complete upsetting of all the conventions that had stood for them as ideals.

The Girls With the Clocks (song)

There's a smart little girl who has lately come to town,
And she wears clocks upon her hose,
She has eyes of blue and hair a ruddy brown
And oh! such a pretty nose.

In dress and hats she's a very natty taste,
She's a pretty little ankle and a taper little waist,
And that little ankle's singularly graced
By the clocks upon her hose.

So-keep-your
Eye on the girl with the clocking on her stocking,
She's a dear; you should see her
With the frilling on her frocking.
In the street if you meet her,
Bow and greet her - She won't run away.

But-if-you
Ask her to dine, she'll decline, "never met you,"
Says "she can't, without 'aunt," take her aunt, and she'll let you,
For the girl is only mocking,
She's got clocking on her stocking
So she does know the time of day

For the purposes of the drama I postulated these coincidences; each of the Podmores should recognise an old acquaintance in "The Palace of Puck." I arranged that with Puck's control there should be three love stories. The young man without a penny should quickly teach the little girl that she "would sooner have Peter without a penny than a world full of pennies without Peter." Rhodanthe, the witch, should teach Podmore that he was a man, with a man's strength and gallantness and capacity for passion. Max, the dreamer, should teach Mrs. Podmore the poetry, sweetness and tenderness of life. When their lesson was complete I made Puck contrive to bring them together in a dramatic explanation during which they should witness the idyllic elopement of their daughter with Peter. My object then was to show that Podmore realised in Mrs. Podmore all the woman that he had seen in Rhodanthe, Mrs. Podmore all the man that she had seen in Max, that the little girl's love story should open their eyes to the beauty of love and to the years they had wasted, and that they should go away into the world, hand-in-hand together, lovers at last, to lead a new and happy existence in the real Fairyland.

In order to keep things on an airy plane, I arranged that Max and Rhodanthe should be lovers, but should have quarrelled (for a fantastically trumpery reason to be brought out in the denouement) before the play began, so that their respective love affairs with the elder Podmores, instigated by Puck, should be carried through out of pique. It was important of course that, at the critical moment, Puck should reconcile them and laugh them off the stage in each other's arms.

Whether I pointed my little moral sufficiently in "The Palace of Puck" is not for me to say. I did my best to adorn the tale which is now infinitely further adorned in its Butterfly guise by Mr. J. A. Robertson's charming music, Miss Ada Reeve's perpetual joyousness and the glamour of light and colour cast over the production.