A New Show

Vanities of 1923. Earl Carroll has unveiled a first-rate second-class vaudeville show. With a single exception his notables are picked from the infinite rows of orchids, yams, and parsnips which burgeon beneath the glass frames of Mr. B. F. Keith. Inadvertently Mr. Carroll picked mostly yams and parsnips. Careful buttering of the latter with scenery and sirens rendered them barely palatable. Yet yams are yams. And yam actors should not be liberated on a stage facing 1,000 people who have paid $11.00 for the exercises.

The notable exception, aforementioned, was Mrs. Peggy Hopkins Joyce. Mrs. Joyce is not a vaudeville actress. Her stage is all the world. So many of her vagaries, nuptial and otherwise, have been chronicled in the daily bulletins that Mr. Carroll evinced an unerring flash of showmanship when he picked her for his orchid. He knew that she could neither sing nor dance. Yet the world derives a curious thrill from gazing at a woman of many marriages.

Mr. Carroll's second best guess was Joe Cook. In the music halls Mr. Cook was what is known as a "wow." Particularly was he famous for his involved absurdities relating to just why a man of his wealth and position should not be called upon to imitate four Hawaiians. Counting on the permanent wave of popular esteem to carry him through the Vanities, Mr. Carroll gave him infinite opportunity. Mr. Cook fell down. He fell down not once but many times. The first few times it was funny.

The third feature of the show is a flight of steps. The figure is literal and refers in no way to the dancers. Down in the clanking depths of some mechanical mind these steps were born. They pyramid, they stretch, they disappear, revolve and blunder grandly forth again in pyramids. The chorus drilled across them ceaselessly, results achieved were strikingly effective.