ABSTRACT
With the production of ‘Uncle Vanya’ at the Morosco yesterday, Chekhov reaches Broadway through the tentative method of odd matinees for the second time this year. The valiant presentation of ‘The Seagull’ began in just this way and met with appreciation enough to lengthen its run to regular evening performances. This present production, which bears the name of the indefatigable Irma Kraft, and indirectly (by special arrangement) of Morris Gest, should have the same encouragement. It is a sympathetic, if uneven, presentation of a deeply moving masterpiece, which demands its place in a season sorely needing this distinction.
