September, 1923 
65 
Huge French doors at Ih-e rear of the set and doors with painted panels, the glimpse of a 
piano, co7ivenicntly grouped furniture—all carry a conviction of reality hi the first and 
third sets of ‘‘‘The Plot Thickens" 
no longer flap in the breeze; they are no 
longer mere holes in canvas. But we know 
that the fire laws will not permit a real fire 
in the grate; we know that the bookcases 
are not filled with real books, but that 
maybe there are two books so placed that 
they may be taken down. 
There is an element of fake about the 
theater. All that the scenic artist is sup¬ 
posed to do—in society drama—is to give 
the suggestion of comfort, of well-to-do 
affluence, of well appointment. But go on 
the stage and get a near view: it will shock 
you how little the accessories bulk up in 
value I Would it not be foolish to have real 
Venetian glass scattered around for stage 
hands to juggle with, when a cheap glass, 
which across the footlights gives the ap¬ 
pearance of being “just as fine, ” will suffice! 
In fact too much delicacy of detail—that 
delicacy which lends charm to a real home 
and is like tint and shade to a picture,— 
would be completely lost to you who sit in 
the orchestra. Besides, when you go to the 
theater, you are soon wrapped in the play— 
if there is anything in the play to hold you— 
and everything sinks into a general atmos¬ 
phere of background, unless the dramatist 
wants you particularly to notice a piece of 
furniture upon which some point in his 
play hinges. 
The interior decorator gets an order; she 
is given specifications and has talked suffi¬ 
ciently with the owners of the house to know 
what manner of persons they are. In fact 
it behooves the decorator to study the lights 
and shades of his clients as sedulously as she 
does velour or damask. So, the scenic 
artist must read his play and determine the 
kind of life there is in it. Mr. Norman-Bel 
Geddes told me how he got his initial ideas 
for the charming one scene which ran 
through the three acts of Milne’s “The 
Truth about Blayds”. He first read the 
script, shorn of all stage directions; he then 
got in mind the general movement of the 
characters and determined that entrances 
and exits could be made easily through 
one door; he next noted the special articles 
of furniture needed for the natural points 
of rest in the action of the story; and after 
A set for “The Truth About Blayds" 
by Norman-Bel Geddes, the ancestral 
portrait being the focal point 
this he determined the general atmosphere 
to be created by the people in the room. 
What sort of a room would best represent 
the famous old Blayds, friend of George 
Meredith and himself the worshiped poet of 
a nation? He next compared his conclusions 
with the stage directions of Mr. Milne. 
Then he set about creating what is quite 
one of the most successful rooms our stage 
has seen in a long while. So organically 
perfect was the conception that one thing 
missing from the set would have detracted 
from the picture. I recall when the curtain 
went up, the room was atmospherically 
perfect in its pastelle beauty, but some 
warmth was needed—whether or not the 
presence of a living being one could not tell. 
But soon a brilliant mass of flowers was 
brought on, and these made the atmosphere 
throb with their potency. They were a 
living part of the scene, not merely an 
accessory. 
Not a thing should be allowed to go into 
a room that does not enrich its dominant 
note. That is the fault with the ultra- 
Realist; he wants all or nothing; he directs 
his cunning to matters which do not interest 
{Continued on page 96 ) 
