Jane

In an age of blood-lust drama and socially significant comedy, S. N. Behrman's Jane has the impact of a cork shot out of a pop-gun. For Jane is a return to pre-war English drawing rooms, to a comfortable society which prefers to share Mr. Chamberlin's confidence in Hitler. It is a paradise in which blustering old rakes and acid cynics are the only heavies. Yet, despite its weightlessness, the world of Jane is a highly civilized and amusing place.

Jane has little plot; it is a pattern of sharp repartee and character dilineation. Its performers--Edna Best, John Loder, and Howard St. John--strut across the stage, catching epithets and deftly whipping them back. And for at least one whole act--until the wind gives out--Jane sails along lightly and smoothly.

Loder, the cynic, and St. John, the rake, crisply thrust and parry with verbal rapiers, while Miss Best as a dowdy but direct matron blunts them both. The frame-work for all this wordplay is Loder's visit to his divorced wife (Brenda Forbes); St. John broke up the marriage five years before and is still hanging around. Miss Best, a relative from Liverpool named Jane, adds her bit to the general tension by entering and announcing her engagement to a man half her age.

The final two acts deal with Jane's transformation from shabby to chic, her success in society, and her marital difficulties. A subtle comedienne, Miss Best's timing and intonations are perfect for this part, which demands a curious combination of wisdom and naivite. But in the last two acts, the plot disintigrates, and neither Miss Best's performance nor the feathery pomposity of Loder and St. John can hold Jane together.

Fortunately, Behrman's wit never deserts the play, and even when his imagination falters, Jane is quite entertaining. Nevertheless, richly furnished with epigram and polished style, Behrman's drawing room still looks bare without a plot.