Before it packed props and departed for the hinterlands, "Personal Appearance" titillated New York appetites for fifteen big, happy months. Brock Pemberton has now fitted Lawrence Riiey's opus with a second cast and loosed its lusty voice from the proscenium of the Plymouth theatre, just recently quieted after the robust howls of "Three Men on a Horse." Like its predecessor, "Personal Appearance" is definitely big-box-office. The roar of good, healthy American laughter is long and very loud. Your people, sir, enjoy "Personal Appearance."

Mr. Riley's conception of humor is broad and earthy; he's not above generous exploitation of popular susceptibility to the obvious double entendre. He realizes that, like money, sex may not be everything, but it's hard to got along without. His take is simple and though unevenly paced it has its moments. A quiet, solid little tourists home is thrown into an uproar of delicious confusion when the unexpected guest sweeps in the alluring form of Carole Arden, the luscious temptress of the silver screen. Miss Arden seems to be on a tour of personal appearances which has been interrupted by the breakdown of her ivory Issota.

The cinema worshippers of the house are in a dither of chaotic delight, but Miss Arden is theatrically upset at the boring interlude until she perceives the physical advantages of Bud, the upright and mechanically inclined Adonis. Bud is properly affianced to his loving, apron clad Joyce, but the blonde screen hussy finds his weak point--an invention which will certainly revolutionize the film industry. Dexterous use of this leverage plus a hearty manipulation of her Westian contours puts Miss Arden on the way to success, and the barn. Just as Bud seems on the verge of losing something more valuable than life itself, and succumbing to the wicked temptation to travel the sinful road to Hollywood, the right and noble influences of Miss Arden's publicity manager and the well-timed entrance of a reliable maiden aunt save the day for truth and beauty.

There are times when the proceedings bog down to a somewhat tiring trot, but in general the situation are amply amusing. Barbara Brown has taken over Miss Gladys George's role and does it up in generous fashion. She coos, whimpers, dramatizes, wiggles, and occasionally slips into a very amusing deep-toned vulgarity of speech. Her language is not sufficiently secure to prevent her from "commuting with her soul," contrasting the interior of the house with the "ulterior," and being quite laughable indeed. George Blackwood plays Bud nicely and the rest of the cast is eminently satisfactory.