Often I have heard the highest compliment that may be paid an actor spoken as a belittlement. I have heard it said of John Drew, for instance, "He's not an actor; he just goes on and plays himself."
Mr. Drew could ask no finer tribute to the perfection of his art. If, in the highly artificial environment of the stage, one can seem oneself, there is an actor.
J. C. Nugent wrote in Variety recently of a clash between James A. Herne and an actor at a rehearsal of "Shore Acres." The man had spoken a rhythmical line in the mouthing elocution of the "reading actor."
"What are you singing for?" Herne asked.
The actor replied that the passage was poetic and that he was attempting to exploit its beauty.
"It is a good line," Herne admitted, "but
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