The Theatre in Boston

You can't hoodwink a country feller. Since William Hodge rang up a three-seasons' run in "The Man From Home," city chaps, wise guys and snobs have tried to spoof him, but William is spoof-proof. He is talking through his nose at the Majestic this week in a play called "A Cure For Curables," in which he makes considerable sport of his spoofers.

Now William Hodge is something like a college football team. Dartmouth, for instance, always has a certain following in Boston, whether it has a 'crack or a cracked football eleven. So with William. He has his following, reaching as far down as Saco, Me., doubtless, and whether he has a good or a poor play, his following will turn out to see him triumph over the villains and kiss the prettiest girl in the show. The out-of-town trade may miss the kiss in catching the late train home, for it's the last thing on the program; but that's the play-wright's fault.

As it happens, "A Cure For Curables" isn't a mastodonic success. It has a good idea, but as soon as it germinates, Hodge steps in sight for the first time and everybody knows the solution. In bringing about a happy fourth act, he foils three members of the caste, restores ten of them to health, regenerates one and marries one--all in the same evening. And if self-assurance was sand, Hodge would be the Sahara desert.

George M. Cohan used to sing through his nose and glorify his country. Hodge talks through his nose, but he, too, glorifies the country--the rural regions of it. In this play he is, as usual, just a plain, easy-going country chap, who can faze a multi-millionaire with a shrug of the shoulder. That's probably why Boston likes William Hodge better than Broadway likes him. And that's why, in spite of a rather vapid vehicle, William Hodge will continue to talk through his nose at the Majestic for eight or ten weeks--unless influenza seizes him. N. R. O'HARA 3G.