25 Sep 1926 – Diseuse a la Francasise

Mlle Damia, a friend of Rudolph Valentino’s and a diseuse from Paris, made her American debut at the Forty-Ninth Street Theatre yesterday afternoon in a private recital of songs chiefly on tragic themes. In a brief introduction, Henry E. Dixey commented upon Mlle. Damia’s skill in a pantomime and, obviously referring to Raquel Meller, asked the audience to receive her on her own terms. However, fair that request may be, one can hardly report Mlle without comparing her to la Meller, whose art, technically, hers resembles so closely. Like Meller she appears alone before a black drop curtain and sings dramatic poems, accompanied by a string orchestra.  In appearance Mlle Damia is less exotic; and her art is emotional rather than strangely vibrant. For ten years of so Mlle Damia has been appearing as a “lyric tragedienne” on Paris stages as one number in a program. Obviously, that is the most practical way to present her, the first half of the program yesterday afternoon, consisting of rather turgidly emotional songs, did not express the most attractive qualities of her pantomimic abilities. Although an undercurrent of tragedy ran through the second half of the program, the songs were lighter and better contrasted. Singing the colorful “La Femme a la Rose,” Mlle Damia was particularly pungent in her expression of character. In “La Supplane,” a war mother hunting her for her sons grave, she communicated admirably the pathos and agony of so tragic a figure. “La Fanchette” represented her a s a sailor who has determined to murder his unfaithful mistress; in this song Mlle. Damia was graphically pictorial. Her most spirited number was the rather macabre “Les Deux Menetriers,” written by Jean Richepin; Mlle Damia described it perfectly. Unfortunately, we in America have little of the pantomimic tradition in our stage life; and, no doubt, few of the qualities of judgment necessary to appreciative reception. Like chamber music, it is for those who catch the overtones and the nuances. Mlle Damias art has fullness. Beyond the symmetry of gestures and the plasticity of facial expression there is a firm solidity. If she lacks the versatility of a virtuoso, she is nevertheless thorough; and if she is not capricious, she is frank and profound. Our revue stage would profit by a regular expression of her art. Contrasted with more usual and blatant numbers of the familiar revue, Mlle Damia’s art would emerge as a pleasing expression of quality.