A Marvellous Year for Plums, Chichester Festival Theatre, May 2012

Following the debacle of the Suez crisis, Anthony Eden resigned as Prime Minister in January 1957, and he and his wife took ship to New Zealand. In this play a young Steward serves him tea, and Eden commends him on winning a boxing competition on board. They get into conversation, and when Eden asks the young man his name he gets the response, “Prescott, Sir”. The audience fell about.

Ian Fleming, Eden, Clarissa and Ann, all images Manuel Harlan

But this clever play by Hugh Whitemore is no comedy. And nor was the meeting between Eden and Prescott mere poetic licence, just a light moment amidst a serious study of political events that went badly wrong in 1956. Yet the grave nature of what was going on is relieved by a love affair, along with brief dancing interludes to excellent musical arrangements from Matthew Scott. The clever set designs by Simon Higlett allow scenes to merge from one to the next as various characters are slowly swept in or out of view by a revolving ring on the stage, aided by subtle lighting from James Whiteside, and this production by Philip Franks has great forward momentum.

Gaitskell and Ann

1956 was of course the year that Nasser nationalised the Suez Canal, and this play shows Eden’s extraordinary mishandling of the crisis. Firm in resolve to take military action, then willing to back off under American pressure even when the French told him to sleep on it first. Eden interrupts the French PM at lunch when he is discussing the formation of the European Economic Community with the Germans, and acting as perfidious Albion didn’t help Britain’s case, to say nothing of the lack of moral clarity that surely affected our response to the Soviet invasion of Hungary. What a year it was.

Anthony Andrews portrayed Eden as a decent man yet inadequate prime minister, with Abigail Cruttenden entirely convincing as Clarissa his devoted (second) wife. Nicholas Le Prevost was excellent as Hugh Gaitskell, leader of the opposition, who is carrying on an affair with the delectable Ann Fleming, elegantly played by Imogen Stubbs. Gaitskell accused Eden of being the captain of a sinking ship that he steered onto the rocks, but the real opposition close at hand was Anthony Nutting, Minister of State for Foreign Affairs. Fiercely played by Martin Hutson, we see him with David Yelland as an urbane Selwyn Lloyd, successor as Foreign Secretary to Eden himself, but described by Macmillan as “a middle class lawyer from Liverpool”.

Eden and his wife

These were the days when Class counted in a way that it doesn’t now, and three of the characters in this play were Old Etonians: Eden, Nutting, and Ian Fleming, while Gaitskell went to Winchester, and Selwyn Lloyd to Fettes. Fleming appears very much as a man of the world, attractively played by Simon Dutton, and he and his wife Ann are friends of the Edens. They are with them when the telephone call comes through saying the last troops have been withdrawn from Egypt. Eden spills his drink and lets out a yell like a wounded animal. This was a man who lost two brothers in the First World War and a son in the Second. His attempt to be a man of peace brought war, albeit briefly, and humiliation for both himself and Britain.

How would it have been different if they’d pushed on? Selwyn Lloyd muses on these things, and has no answers. But towards the end, Eden’s father, an irascible baronet whose occasional stage appearances lie in Eden’s imagination, has some cutting words to say about how to live your life, “Run straight … don’t play a double game …”. Eden did and he failed. We hear Rab Butler’s gibe that Eden was “half mad baronet, half beautiful woman”, referring to his father and mother, and towards the end we even see them both dancing together.

This play is cleverly constructed, with video images adding a subtle background, and in exposing the British background to the tragedies of 1956 it is hugely effective. As to the title, you have to wait for the words of Selwyn Lloyd’s gardener, for whom international politics holds not the slightest interest. But if you are interested, this is a must-see that should surely go on to the West End.

Performances continue until June 2 — for details click here.

The Deep Blue Sea, Chichester Festival Theatre, August 2011

A shilling in the meter, for those of us who remember, was essential to keep the gas and electricity going. Awfully annoying when the money runs out unexpectedly, but in this case it saves Hester’s life. She took sleeping pills and put on the gas deliberately.

Collyer and Hester, all photos Manuel Harlan

As Mrs. Page she complains about being a ‘golf widow’, but when she’s found half gassed to death it turns out she’s really Mrs. Collyer, estranged wife of the judge, Sir William, superbly played by Anthony Calf. He’d no idea where she was living, but as soon as he’s told he comes round immediately. He still cares, very much, but has pretended not to, “I thought my indifference would hurt your vanity”. At the end of Act I we find out why she chose this moment to commit suicide. We also meet her lover Freddie Page, beautifully played by John Hopkins. He’s an ex-test pilot, ex-RAF, with good looks and charm that exceed by a long way his ability to earn a living.

Freddie Page

The ultimate failure of their relationship is inevitable, but the ending remains very much in doubt at the start of Act III, which was prefaced by music from one of Britten’s four sea interludes. Mr. Miller, the ex-doctor, very ably portrayed by Pip Donaghy, is the key to hope. He seems to understand her, “Most people commit suicide to escape. You do so because you feel you’re unworthy”. There is more where that comes from, “To live without hope is to live without despair”. Donaghy was excellent, as was Susan Tracy as Mrs. Elton the landlady. She is the epitome of common sense in this wonderful play by Terence Rattigan.

The trouble for me was that I didn’t really care whether Hester lived or died. As Mr. Miller says, “The purpose of life is to live”, but she seemed to lack a vitality that must have attracted Freddie in the first place. Amanda Root played Hester very naturally as a precise and sensitive woman caught up in an affair she thinks means everything, and you can see why she falls for Freddie, though not why he falls for her. That would seem to be an essential ingredient, and while the director Philip Franks did a terrific job with Rattigan’s Nijinsky this didn’t achieve the same theatrical impact.

Mr. Miller and Hester

A movie of this story starring Rachel Weisz as Hester is due out later this year. In the meantime performances at Chichester continue until September 3 — for details click here.

Rattigan’s Nijinsky, Chichester Festival Theatre, August 2011

Malcom Sinclair as Rattigan, all photos Manuel Harlan

This is not just a play for ballet fans or anyone who has heard of Diaghilev or Nijinsky, it’s also for Rattigan fans, as Terence Rattigan himself appears on stage, brilliantly played by Malcolm Sinclair. He interacts with the characters in his own drama, particularly Diaghilev, and at the end of Part I we hear the following dialogue between them. Diaghilev: Where are we now?  Rattigan: Thursday, May 29^th, 1913, the first night of The Rite of Spring.

This famous premiere gave the Paris audience two creations that many found hard to take: Nijinsky’s revolutionary choreography, and Stravinsky’s extraordinary score. The theatre was in an uproar and police had to be called to keep some sort of order, while Nijinsky was backstage shouting out counts to dancers who could barely hear the orchestra for all the noise. It remains the most riotous premiere in all of ballet.

Jonathan Hyde as Diaghilev

We know of course who Stravinsky was, Diaghilev too, but who exactly was Nijinsky? This play shows him as a boy applying to the Czar’s Imperial Ballet School. He’s small and was almost rejected out of hand, but his jumps were amazing, and he was the first person to do an entrechat dix. Not a six — “Any carthorse can do a six“, says Diaghilev — but a dix (a jump where the feet are interchanged in the air, with beats, five times). But technical virtuosity aside, Nijinsky was a creative genius whose first ballet, Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune to Debussy’s music of the same name was a sensation of sensuality.

In this brilliant new play by Nicholas Wright, based on a screenplay by Rattigan, we see some of the original steps for Faun, along with Rite of Spring and Petrushka. And there’s music too: snatches of these ballets and Firebird. It’s all immensely watchable.

Nijinsky had an extraordinary instinct for dance. He was the first male dancer to take a solo bow, and he talks excitedly about how a woman threw a diamond tiara to him, and he tossed it back. So what went wrong? Rattigan endeavours to tell us. He talks to his mother who recalls seeing Nijinsky in Petrushka, “He lollopped … like a puppet”. “He is a puppet”. But Mrs. Rattigan is non-plussed, and when her son tells her Nijinsky was sacked, her response “Russians are so emotional”, shows she doesn’t really get it, and she wonders why her son has never found the right woman to marry.

This is the key. It’s why Rattigan refused to allow the BBC to put on the play they’d commissioned. He received a visit from Nijinsky’s widow, Romola who knew perfectly well that her husband was bisexual, but threatened Rattigan that if he brought to light the relationship between Nijinsky and Diaghilev then she would out him as “a pervert and a man of bestial proclivities”. He couldn’t bear to be recognised as homosexual because it would overshadow his work, so he backed off. In this play we see how Nijinsky was manipulated, not least by Romola herself. She schemes to make him her husband, and later takes him to see the psychiatrist Eugen Bleuler, who diagnoses schizophrenia, a term he coined himself.

Faye Castelow as Romola and Joseph Drake as Nijinsky

There is also underhand scheming by others, including Diaghilev, brilliantly portrayed by Jonathan Hyde, who also played Rattigan’s BBC producer Cedric Messina. In body, Hyde looked more like the real life Massine than Diaghilev, but that is a minor point — his characterisation was excellent, and we are left wondering whether Diaghilev really wanted to rid himself of Nijinsky. Joseph Drake was wonderful as this extraordinary almost other-worldly dancer who believed it was God who helped him perform. Drake also played Donald the young hotel worker who fancies Rattigan. He was immensely likeable in both roles, a contrast to Faye Castelow was eminently dislikeable as his wife, the young Romola, with Susan Tracy equally dislikeable as the widow, as well as doubling up as Rattigan’s charmingly superficial mother. Lovely portrayal of the choreography by Emma Harris and Ellie Robertson.

This is not just worth seeing — it’s a must see for anyone with the slightest interest in ballet, and the creative team led by director Philip Franks and designer Mike Britton have done a wonderful job.

Performances continue until September 3 — for details click here.

The Master Builder, Chichester, Minerva Theatre, September 2010

“No, I can’t take it anymore” says Knut Brovik, an old architect who now works for Halvard Solness, the Master Builder. Brovik’s son Ragnar, and Ragnar’s finacée Kaia Fosli also work for Solness, and the world revolves around this highly successful, but very insecure man. He holds Ragnar down by refusing to approve his excellent drawings, and holds Ms. Fosli close to him, so we think we see the picture clearly — a man who appears to reject his dutiful wife, while keeping Ragnar down so he can enjoy the young man’s fiancée. Yet like many things in Ibsen it’s not that simple, and when a wild young woman, Hilda Wangel strides into the house all is lost.

Solness’s narcissism has finally found the perfect mirror, and his previous worries about being delusional are suddenly personified in this delusional young woman who claims he once kissed her and promised her a kingdom. Did she really meet him ten years ago and see this acrophobic man climb to the steeple on one of his own churches? He apparently believes it, so taken is he with her games, but she is the catalyst for his downfall, made reality by climbing the tower of one of his own creations. In the meantime she shows generosity to Ragnar by forcing Solness to validate his drawings, but it’s all too late for Ragnar’s father, who couldn’t take life any more.

Michael Pennington as Halvard Solness, photo by Manuel Harlan

Michael Pennington slowly brings out hidden complexities in the character of Solness, helping us understand his assertion that, “there are so many demons in the world”. His was a magnificent performance — a portrayal of great depth — and his wife was beautifully played by Maureen Beattie, allowing us to see her pain at the fire that once destroyed all her possessions. Those dolls — each one alive for her — all perished, and though she says the loss of her twin sons was God’s will, the nurseries are still kept ready for use, beds made up. Pip Donaghy was a sympathetic Dr. Herdal, and Solness’s ‘team’ — his secretary Kaja Fosli, the young architect Ragnar Borvik, and his father Knut — were all well played by Emily Wachter, Philip Cumbus, and John McEnery, as mere appendages to the great narcissist. Naomi Frederick played Hilda Wangel as an intense, slightly whacky yet surprisingly controlled young woman, though I would have preferred less volume at times.

Philip Franks’ direction gave us a drama that moved forward with energy, and this new version of Ibsen’s play by David Edgar — based on a literal translation by an expert — gave a text that flowed well and fitted the time of the drama. Costumes were all late nineteenth century, and the simple stage designs by Stephen Brimson Lewis, flipping interior to exterior, were excellent. The music by Matthew Scott gave a sense of mysterious forces at work, and the whole effect was well worth the trip from London.

Performances continue until October 9 — for details click here.

Our Man in Havana, Richmond Theatre, November 2009

This novel by Graham Greene, adapted for the stage by Clive Francis and directed by Richard Baron, is about a British secret agent in pre-Castro Cuba, whose reports and informers are all inventions. As a vacuum cleaner salesman in need of money, he allows himself to be recruited by the secret services, and feeds them ingenious plots and conspiracies, which he tries to back up with real events, leading to near-disaster. Putting this on stage is not easy, but Clive Francis has the experience of playing in Travels with my Aunt, another Graham Greene adaptation, and like that play this uses only four actors, playing multiple parts. The main character, Wormold (our man in Havana) was very well performed by Simon Shepherd, while Philip Franks, Norman Pace and Beth Cordingly played the other roles. They did brilliantly well, and how they managed the multiple costume changes, lord alone knows. It was like a conjuring trick, and the audience loved it. This play is a comedy, and a reminder of how gross incompetence can be rewarded by Whitehall when it suits them to avoid admitting errors and rank stupidity.

Collaboration, and Taking Sides, Chichester, and the Duchess Theatre London, May 2009

These two plays by Ronald Harwood, dealing with how Germany’s Nazi regime affected the lives of two of the greatest musicians of the twentieth century, were performed on the same day, with the same actors, and the experience was riveting. The first play centred on the collaboration between Richard Strauss and Stefan Zweig, who took over the role of Strauss’s librettist when his previous collaborator, von Hofmannsthal died. The second play dealt with the aggressive questioning of conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler after the war when an American army Major was determined to find reasons for him to be prosecuted at the Nuremberg war crimes tribunal. Both plays are sympathetic to the musicians, but pass no moral judgements, and Taking Sides allows the audience to form its own conclusions and take sides. These two productions have now transferred from Chichester to the Duchess Theatre in London’s West End.

Collaboration starts with Strauss’s desperate need to find a new librettist after von Hofmannsthal’s death. He hasn’t the confidence to ask the great writer, Stefan Zweig, but his wife Pauline, irritated by his indecisive insecurity, takes matters into her own hands. Zweig is only too delighted to assist a man he regards as the greatest composer on earth, and the two of them hit it off brilliantly, and form a close relationship. Strauss is enamoured of one of Zweig’s suggestions, namely Ben Johnson’s 17^th century play The Silent Woman, which they turn into the opera Die Schweigsame Frau. The story of its luckless premiere in 1934 is well-known, with the Nazi authorities deleting Zweig’s name from the playbill, because he is Jewish, and Strauss insisting they reinstate it. Zweig’s later insistence that he can no longer be Strauss’s librettist, though he will help whomever Strauss chooses, is followed by his subsequent departure from Austria, and later suicide in Brazil. These events are well portrayed, as are the Nazis, represented by ministerial official Hans Hinkel. He puts pressure on Strauss by making threats against his Jewish daughter-in-law, to say nothing of his half-Jewish grandchildren, compelling him to remain silent and simply get on with his work. When faced with Allied soldiers at the end of the war, and questioned about possible collaboration with the Nazis, he repeats his distress at Zweig’s suicide, which could itself be seen as a kind of collaboration. The use of music from Strauss’s Four Last Songs at the end left the audience with a powerful feeling for this remarkable genius who wrote sublime music, even if he was unable to manipulate the Nazis as they manipulated him. Despite these well-known facts, and his despair at losing Stefan Zweig, there are still people — I’ve met them — who condemn Strauss as a Nazi. This play, and the next, should show even the dimmest of bigots that life is not so simple.

Taking Sides is a highly charged encounter between American army major Steve Arnold and Wilhelm Furtwängler. Major Arnold was an insurance assessor good at detecting fraud, and was charged with the job of uncovering Nazi collaboration by Furtwängler. Arnold has no appreciation for classical music, though his two assistants certainly do and resent his insolent treatment of the great conductor, or ‘band leader’ as he refers to him. Clearly Furtwängler helped numerous Jews, but Arnold is sincere in seeking motives as to why he remained in Germany. Arnold has nightmares and mentions the smell of burning flesh, yet Furtwängler comes through it all with dignity and integrity. Eventually Arnold’s secretarial assistant Emmi, whose father was executed after the failed plot to kill Hitler, lets out a piercing scream. She has had enough of this bigoted interrogation, and yells at the Major that her father only tried to kill Hitler after it became clear they would lose the war if they carried on this way. The other assistant puts on a record of Beethoven’s 9^th conducted by Furtwängler, and refuses to take it off. The major gets on the phone saying he knows a journalist who will tell them what they need, but this and his earlier use of a Nazi informer in Furtwängler’s Berlin Philharmonic, who makes some unsubstantiated claims about his earlier master, undermine Arnold’s investigative techniques. You cannot use bigotry to condemn bigotry, yet retain the moral high ground.

The direction of both plays by Philip Franks, with designs by Simon Higlett, was excellent, and the use of music was superbly done. The acting was extremely good. Michael Pennington as Strauss in the first play and Furtwängler in the second, was emotionally and visually convincing in both roles. David Horovitz as Zweig in the first and Major Arnold in the second was equally convincing, a calm and controlled European in one and a brash American from Minnesota in the other. They were ably assisted by Martin Hutson as the awful Nazi official Hinkel in the first play, and Arnold’s junior officer in the second; by Sophie Roberts as Zweig’s secretary and later girlfriend in the first, and Arnold’s assistant Emmi in the second; and by Isla Blair as Strauss’s wife Pauline. The performers in both plays, particularly Pennington and Horovitz, showed how a good actor can portray different emotions in different roles, though it must have made for an exhausting day. I applaud them and the rest of the cast for their interpretations, and Harwood for creating such excellent and thought provoking theatre.