The Playgoer

"Yankee Fable" opened last night; that's all there is--there isn't any more.

Dealing with the story of an American woman who predominates a roll in the hay with Lord Howe so that Washington's troops may receive support and retreat, Lewis Meltzer's play meanders through two dull acts, rears its head for a final gasp in the third, and then dies a miserable death.

Perhaps it is the fault of the audience; or perhaps it is the fault of John Williams who takes two acts to warm up as Lord Howe.

In many case, the show is slow starting, slow in development, and uninspiring in denouncement. Ina Claire as the matron is easily the outstanding asset, but she might do well to brush up on her lines.

Lord Howe never gets satisfaction from his Yankee gal, and whether she really loves him or not is a point lost in confusion. Barry Sullivan is an American spy is adequate, and Maxine Stuart as his betrothed is pleasant enough. Eda Heinemann as the matron's servant is the only convincing personality on the stage.

"Yankee Fable" is labeled as "comedy," but in five minutes a dead weight falls on the audience which only a double Scotch can budge.