POLIN
Parisians delight in caricature. It is as inborn with them as the art of pantomime. The political topic of the day, a new phase of the law or the government, the latest scandal, all come to the net of the writers of these revues.
Eve, the daughter of Madame Humbert, that shrewdest of modern swindlers, is presented as a Juno-like creature of lisping innocence. Shrewd, politic and extravagant Madame Humbert, the brains of that colossal robbery of millions of francs, steps on the stage. The brother, Daurignac, who posed as a painter, and the famous empty safe which played such an important role in the Humbert ménage, have been the theme for a dozen clever burlesques.
“Les Apaches,” a notorious band of cutthroats, who have lately infested Paris, and their beautiful accomplice, known as Casque d’Or, a term befitting her wealth of golden hair, have also furnished a well-worn topic for the revue writers. So, too, the capture of Miss Stone has inspired a clever revue, containing a whole stageful of pretty and shapely brigands. The book is by de Cottens and the music by Henri José, and it is presented in six tableaux at the Marigny with that idol of Paris, Germaine Gallois, in the principal role.
Photo by Stebbing, Paris
LISE FLEURON OF THE ALCAZAR D’ÉTÉ
The Parisian revue is in structure traditionally ever the same, and the receipt for these musical puddings is never altered. There are two important characters which are never to be departed from—the commère and the compère. The first fifteen minutes are occupied with the introduction of a young man of leisure, the compère, who has just inherited a colossal fortune from a dying uncle. He brings with him an exaggerated outfit of clothes, all brand new, consisting of a sack suit of dove gray, lined with red satin; a voluminous red satin tie to match the suit, clasped with a heavy turquoise-studded ring; a gold-buttoned embroidered vest; a soft gray felt traveling hat; lemon kid gloves, and a rattan cane. He stalks about the stage, smiling—the stage picture of good health—and squaring his shoulders and curling the ends of his long mustache with that debonair air supposed to be consistent with good luck. His ecstasy over what fortune has bestowed upon him would put in the shade even the enthusiasm of the “found at last!” gentlemen of the Eureka advertisements.
Photo by Reutlinger, Paris