The Blog

As autumn floods into east London, time to admire the turning leaves, the glowing berries, and to reflect….

Lapsing into autumnal musings about a life of learning and teaching about acting I pondered Success and Fame, those two elusive targets. It’s perfectly possible of course to have one without the other – some of the most quietly successful actors are those whose face you might know, but seldom their name – and it’s possible to be famous without achieving anything worthwhile at all – in which regard I mention no names, of course…

Every week we London theatre tutors rejoice as former students garner awards and blink as the press-cameras flash – but what of those who dedicate time in their lives, often several years, to training to be actors and never achieve lasting “household name” status as performers? Do they regard their learning to speak and move well, to study and interpret great texts, as a waste of time?  Well this summer I’ve encountered at least two people you could ask. My guess is they wouldn’t change a thing – they’ve gone on to amazing, fulfilling success and I bet don’t regret for a moment the absence of paparazzi attention.

Doug D’Arcy, like me, spent three years in the Drama Department at Manchester University. Like me, he came to London to seek auditions – but only ever did one, for a job at Bromley Rep which he didn’t get – but then ran into Chris Wright, another old mate from university, with whom he used to book the bands for student union gigs. The result has been an extraordinary career at the heart of the music business – which you can read all about, and hear his beautifully-spoken podcast, via the link at the end of this blog.  He’s had the neat idea of casting his memoires as an echo of Shakespeare’s “Seven Ages of Man” – but unlike Jacques in the Forest of Arden, Doug defines his life through “Seven Offices”.

 

A click on the link below will explain how this collage of rock-music images fits with seven front doors!

I found the second case in the grounds of a stately home in North Yorkshire a few weeks ago, at a very tidy touring production of Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” by The Lord Chamberlain’s Men. They performed with panache and spirit, on a brilliantly neat, entirely appropriate set as the Yorkshire twilight gathered, and sheep silently munched grass in a nearby field.

I admired the set – a clever construction suggesting sail-cloth and driftwood – and looked in my programme to seek the designer – and found the name Morgan Brind. Now Morgan trained as an actor at the Bristol Old Vic School, and one of his early acting jobs was for me, with one of the graduate companies on the Cunard QM2, which spawned the audacious spoof Bond movie “The Scampi Trail”, in which Morgan featured as an unsettling dark-hearted villain. Now it seems he has a thriving career as a designer, writer and producer – and still exercises his training as a performer at least once a year as Dame in one of his own panto’s!

Meanwhile, another thought to be pondered by would-be actors is that if you’ve got creative talent, even if you achieve a successful performing career you may well find that acting on its own just isn’t enough! Once you’ve cracked the part, given the performance and everyone’s told you you were marvellous, and even if you’ve made pots of money and you’re really famous, then to achieve lasting satisfaction you will almost certainly feel a need to de doing something else – directing, producing, writing, teaching – all pursuits with rewards that stay with you, and don’t evaporate over the next day’s breakfast. I’ve already in this blog celebrated the multi-talented Michelle Terry adding the directorship of Shakespeare’s Globe to her impressive portfolio of acting and writing credits, and these last weeks the achievements of another female RADAgrad have been entirely unavoidable. Phoebe Waller-Bridge, having notched a double-sided TV hit as writer and performer with “Fleabag” has gone for another twin smash as actor in, and screen-adapter of, “Killing Eve” – which started this week on BBC1 and is already a hit in America. So much so that the BBC has invested in pre-publicity to a quite remarkable degree. Travelling across London on the tube last night everywhere I looked were “Killing Eve” posters. Here are two shots taken at Vauxhall underground –  a poster seemingly spawning an entire brood of mini-posters, swarming up the escalator wall!

Incidentally, Phoebe’s script has earned a nomination in the States for this year’s  EMMY awards as a writer, alongside another terrific RADAgrad nominee as Best Actor in a Drama Series – that’s Matthew Rhys in “The Americans”. Matthew has had such success on American TV that many US viewers assume he’s one of their own. Not a bit of it – he is a Cardiff-born proud Welshman, an Honorary Fellow of Aberystwyth University, a member of the Druidic Order of Bards and a supporter of Plaid Cymru!

But to leave the glitter of awards and return to my earlier mention of actors with familiar faces unhampered by persistent and insistent Fame. Here’s one such face.

This is Malcolm Rennie – think lovely character work in “Mr Selfridge”, in “Pride and Prejudice” and lots of other shows – and then look out for “Shackleton’s Carpenter”, a cracking one-man play currently on tour. Gail Louw has written a tight, witty and moving script about a key figure in one of the great exploits in the history of antarctic exploring, whom we discover as an abandoned derelict on the wharf at Wellington, New Zealand. If you’re interested in what British class attitudes meant (and often still mean) then here’s a telling and disturbing true story. If you’re interested in acting, then go and learn from Malcom’s command of the stage, his assured and thrilling vocal skill – and above all for his painstaking exploration of every nuance of the script and the situation it portrays. Masterly work.

Check the link below for dates and venues.

Ok, time to apologise for this blog’s several months’ absence, chaps – no excuses, just bad time-management. I’ve been travelling again of course – in June I was back in Beijing, teaching English communications skills to business graduates at Peking University,  which was a lot of fun. As ever, my friend Professor Lin-Yi and her team made me warmly welcome, and this time around there seemed to be some fresh air available. I didn’t have to don a mask to walk to work, I could actually see the Fragrant Hills from my hotel room, and could dine comfortably outside in the warm evening air:

 

When I commented to colleagues that there seemed to be less pollution than on previous visits, they said “Oh yes, the government just closed down some factories using too much coal…”  Running things would be so easy when you could just give an order without all this pesky debate, wouldn’t it Donald…? Not that you’d do anything so weakly liberal as close down air-polluting factories…

One of my favourite Beijing teaching moments this time was when a mature student, having completed a presentation describing his fan-making business, presented me with my very own fan. I am now aching for a chance to direct a Restoration comedy – any offers out there? Own props supplied.

I went to France twice this summer – the first time at the height of the Soccer World Cup. Boy, the French know how to celebrate! We watched the French team win through to the semi-finals and then to the final on TV in the bars of Juan les Pins. The exuberance throughout the games was fantastic, waiters spinning through the crowds carrying aloft trays with vast orders of wine and beer, acrobats and drummers clammering in the streets, everyone (including us) wearing tricolour face-paint – and then the eruptions at the final whistle! Red white and blue smoke, fire-crackers, car-horns honking.

“Allons, enfants de la Patrie…”

Their national anthem is so much more exhilarating than ours – no wonder they won!

And after the fun, a calming stroll by the water…

                                                                                                                                                                                                                              Red photo: DD

Later in July I was back again in France, this time further West, to the Tarn and my friend Jenny’s Special Birthday. A countryside every bit as lovely as the Riviera but so different – slow rivers, green deep forests, rolling hills, light filtered through trees and vines, leisurely pre-supper garden drinks before the special meal on the raised decking….

 

Bliss, bliss…only to be shattered by RYANAIR!!! My friend Robinson and I (the self-appointed stage-management team for Jenny’s Birthday Events) were booked to fly back from Toulouse Airport on the Saturday evening – but a combination of pilot strikes and heavy rainfall at Stansted stranded us in Toulouse with no hope of a flight back till TUESDAY!! Exceptional weather, forsooth…!! And there was a massive electrical problem on the railways and no trains were running from Toulouse to Paris so Eurostar wasn’t an option. Fortunately Jenny was kind and invited us back to stay with her in the meantime BUT I was booked to take a group of Chinese students to Shakespeare’s Globe on the Sunday and to present certificates to them at the Concert Artistes’ Association on the Monday. Sacré Bleu!! A flurry of anguished ‘phone calls ensued – and behold, the fraternity of London actors rallied to my rescue – so my thanks here and now to Jack Laskey and James Garnon, who gallantly fielded the Chinese students between performances of “Hamlet” at the Globe, and to Frank Barrie – as distinguished an understudy as could ever be wished – who took my place at the CAA. Phew!

I belatedly became aware that, during my time away, alarming headlines had appeared about events at the Central School of Speech and Drama and “calls for the resignation” of the Principal, since he had expressed an opinion of not necessarily being in support of “quotas” in the school’s admissions policy. Now this is an ancient and well-worked debate, and Gavin Henderson is man of great integrity, intelligence and humanity. For him to be pilloried and abused has been shameful, and I am extremely relieved to know that he has received full support from the Central Board, and that sanity seems to have prevailed. As with so many “quick-fix” apparent answers to difficult social and political issues, imposing quotas risks outcomes exacerbating the very evils they purport to address. Better instead to celebrate what the current practitioners in our theatre are achieving – for instance the exciting policies Michelle now has in place at the Globe, and the work currently on show at the Old Vic.

Michelle’s first season at the Globe has been the breath of fresh air we all hoped it would be. The ensemble work has been terrific, honouring the idea of a company of actors as actors, be they female, male, of whatever ethnic background they happen to be, and with whatever conditions happen to inform their lives – what a joy it was to see a deaf actor contributing a whole new dimension to the process of telling Shakespeare’s stories. Currently there’s a top-class “Othello” on the main stage, with former Artistic Director Mark Rylance and NYU graduate André Holland leading another fine ensemble under Clare van Kampen’s brilliant direction – and not a microphone or loudspeaker anywhere in sight!

And lastly, another sad farewell – this time to Geoffrey Case, actor-turned award-winning scriptwriter. An old friend whose younger son Jacob is my godson. We took our farewells to Geoff last week at a woodland burial plot in Suffolk, a place of calm, reassuring beauty.

 

Links:

DOUG D’ARCY’S SEVEN OFFICES:   https://www.sevenoffices.com/office-1/

MALCOLM RENNIE in SHACKLETON’S CARPENTER:   http://shackletons-carpenter.weebly.com/tour.html

MORGAN BRIND’S PRODUCTIONS: https://www.thelittlewolf.co.uk/about

MATTHEW RHYS on his White House fans: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmL-4if_Kdo

 

STOP PRESS: MATTHEW RHYS gets the gong! Da iawn!                                                             Picture: Entertainment World

One of the best-ever British TV actors has left us at 92. He created terrific characters in dramas like “Colditz” and “An Inspector Calls”, but was also a seasoned theatre director – and an inspired comedy performer.  For me there are great memories of “The Squirrels” in the mid-seventies.

Rest well Bernie – you deserve it.

Just how depressed was T.S. Eliot when he wrote “April is the cruellest month”? What would he have written had the Muse stirred him in late February or early March? Given those days just past,  when storm, ice and snow brought Gloom to our island, and with little to look forward to but years of dystopian squalor brought about by Brexit and Trump’s trade wars, February 2018 has got to be up there as a candidate for the Unkindest Month of All. And mid-March brought a new, “mini-Beast” – more withering winds, new snow-flurries  – but there are daffodils by the water – Walthamstow Reservoir Number 5 isn’t quite Ullswater, but then I’m not quite William Wordsworth…

But like the Old Romantic, my thoughts have strayed to Lakeland, to the heady sunlit days of last December, when I revisited old haunts for a Christmas amongst old friends, where once I ran a theatre on the banks of Derwent Water. OK, Christmas Eve and Day were frightful, with a hurricane-level storm churning the waters. However that didn’t deter some of my more robust Cumbrian friends from taking a Christmas-morning plunge amongst the surging waves, while I stood agape and full of wonder. Perhaps there is hope after all for a nation with souls capable of such resilience?And optimism soon returned, for on Boxing Day the clouds cleared, the sun came out and for several days we saw the full glory of the Lakes. The sun and the hill-top snow and the glistening water – you pause breathless before such scenery – and almost want to eat it!

 

 

The last of these is looking down Derwentwater towards Borrowdale, and was taken from the café at the Theatre by the Lake, successor to the fondly remembered Century Theatre, known affectionately as the Blue Box. This amazing contraption – a travelling collection of trailers and caravans, which toured the highways of England before coming to rest at Keswick in the 1970s – still exists, and if you happen to be into Leicestershire you can go to see it at Coalville, and maybe even to this day catch a show. The County Council there has refurbished and restored this unique artefact – click on the link below, read the history and then click on “What’s On”. It may change your life: it did mine. I first met this theatre-on-wheels in a car park in a snowstorm at Guildford in 1963, and it was to play a recurring part in the twists and turns of a colourful life. Many stories, many – to be unrolled in the memoires. All right, I know – just be patient.

Now when you go to Keswick you will find the splendid Theatre by the Lake – a properly funded, proudly supported asset to Cumbria’s cultural profile – and of course its all-important tourism. It’s now open all year round – in my day we couldn’t operate in the winter – we had a platoon of buckets on the stage to catch the drips from the thawing snow leaking through the roof. Christmas 2017 saw a smart, polished  version of The Secret Garden, and from now until the theatre’s own repertoire starts in the early summer there is a well-chosen range of touring shows, including Elizabeth Mansfield’s stirring tribute to Edith Piaf, Hymn to Love, and A Streetcar Named Desire, appropriately produced by English Touring Theatre, a company which has its roots in the touring days of Century Theatre.

And if you are in the Northern Lakes, you mustn’t pass by the amazing Upfront Gallery, in a village not far from Penrith rejoicing in the strange name of Unthank. John and Elaine Parkinson have wrought a miracle in this lovely but remote spot – a gallery, a restaurant – and a wondrous Puppet Theatre. This Easter you can see there Stanelli’s Super Circus – one of the largest and most complete puppet circuses in Europe.  Just click on the link below.

When I was a kid in Cardiff one of the after-Christmas milestones beckoning through the winter doldrums was St David’s Day. On the morning of March the First we would all wear a daffodil on our jacket lapels, and at school sing songs and act in plays. I remember leading my class in a parade around the school hall proudly wearing a cardboard crown as a six-year-old King Arthur with Queen Guinevere on my arm, while everyone sang. Sang what? I can’t remember. Bread of Heaven…? No, I doubt it – all I can remember is Guinevere tugging me – and thus the whole parade – to a halt because she could go no further. Her thick, sensible green school knickers had descended, and securely cuffed her ankles! Fortunately the nearest mum sitting at the side of the hall leant out and retrieved the knickers, and we proceeded to proceed. In the afternoon, as usual, we had the afternoon off, so it was home for tea and Welsh-cakes.

This year March the First, as those of you living in the UK will well remember, came in that week when somehow the jet-stream went into reverse and we had blizzards from Siberia. Recently members of my family have become forest folk, living amongst the ancient trees of Epping, where Tudors once hunted deer – and on the saint’s day I went out to visit. The newest edition to our family is a glorious Anglo-French infant called Célestine. My first grand-child – well technically my step-grand-child, since her dad is my stepson Tom – has brought untold joy to these bleak winter days, and Marie her mum cooked a special Franco-Welsh lunch: Coquilles Saint David – scallop shells bearing curls of leek under crunchy toasted cheese – scrumptious!  

After lunch we wandered amongst the forest snows, and watched Celestine’s young neighbours whizzing by on toboggans. A few weeks late, but I can’t resist calling the pics we took A Child’s Christmas in Epping….

Apart from lakes and snows, since this is the TYA blog I dare say I should report back on matters theatrical. Well  – I have a new party of lovely New Yorkers to show around the London scene, and the high-spots so far this season have included a truly scary performance as a mass-murderer by Jason Watkins in Briony Lavery’s “Frozen”  at the Haymarket. I reckon to know a bit about acting, and I was right up at the back of the circle  – but suddenly I realised this quiet, still, creepy character was making me really frightened. Here’s an actor whose joyous comic skills in W1A had me chortling helplessly week on week, now making the proverbial hairs stand on end – with absolutely no resort to sound effects, wigs or mechanical devices of any sort! Great stuff, sir.

There’s anarchic fun to be savoured in Napoleon Disrobed, now at the Arcola, then due on tour at Birmingham Rep and at the Stephen Joseph Theatre, Scarborough. The company presenting is Told by An Idiot, and features an inspired double-act between artistic director Paul Hunter and the gloriously talented Ayesha Antoine. The production is steered by none other than Kathryn Hunter, whose colossal reputation is linked of course with Complicité, a major influence on this company.

Don’t go expecting a history lesson – in fact don’t go expecting anything – just go along and enjoy the free-wheeling energy, an evening of  sheer comic skill and imagination unleashed. My American students had a terrific time, and adored every minute – and some of them promptly booked for a return visit!

Some of London’s more adventurous creators are currently finding willing and productive out-of-town partners – perhaps reflecting efforts by the Arts Council to redress the oft-bemoaned imbalance between the capital and the regions? Napoleon Disrobed is a joint venture between the Told by an Idiot company and Plymouth Theatre Royal.  Meanwhile, the Park Theatre Finsbury Park has got together with the Simple8 Company and the Royal and Derngate Theatre in Northampton to bring us a cracking stage version of A Passage to India, with fine ensemble work including a lovely performance by Liz Crowther as Mrs Moore, the role which brought Peggy Ashcroft an Oscar in the film version back in ’84

And talking of the Oscars, some of us old RADA tutors basked in a little reflected glory when one of our grads was nominated this year. For The Shape of Water Sally Hawkins – already a Golden Globe winner in 2009 – was, along with the rest of the field, clearly not in with a chance against Frances Dormand in the current climate, but now Sally’s on Hollywood’s radar who knows ? It’s a joy to watch people we knew as eager youngsters coming into their own as uniquely engaging, significant and mature artists. For instance, I’ve loved watching Tom Burke’s one-legged TV gumshoe in “Strike”, and this week I saw Ben Whishaw as a riveting, tortured Brutus in “Julius Caesar” at the Bridge Theatre. With me was my friend and TYA colleague Lois Baxter who was one of the RADA audition team who gave Ben his place at Gower St, so we shared a sense of quiet satisfaction – and then an unplanned bonus of a joyful, welcoming hug from Ben in the bar after the show!

The new Bridge Theatre would have gladdened the heart of Stephen Joseph (see last two blogs) in an arresting location opposite the Tower of London  – this picture taken as I crossed Tower Bridge en route to the show – the theatre is just out of frame to the left of the Shard.

Nicholas Hytner’s bold new venue is currently in full “in-the-round” configuration, for a zappy modern dress Shakespeare production, in which some of the 900-strong audience can choose to participate in “promenade”, as though they were Roman citizens following the action of “Julius Caesar” on foot within the large central arena. The night we were there this produced an unexpected, unfortunate effect. I was sitting near one of the auditorium doors, and as the show progressed I watched a number of young people being carried or escorted out, one after another, by theatre attendants – youngsters clearly in states of distress and/or illness. At first I thought this was part of the action, and that these were actors, but no, these were audience members, and they were being carried off during the battle scenes – when, this being a modern-dress production – there were lots of flashes and bangs and simulated rifle-fire, inevitably over and around the “promenade” section of the audience. After the show one of my NYU students remarked “Too much gunfire for an American audience…” And then I thought  – what if some of the audience were young Americans involved in some way with one of those appalling school shootings? A grim thought, one perhaps to give pause to directors planning simulated violence in this kind of staging.

But to a more up-lifting Spring-like image – the Swifts of Walthamstow Marshes. Part of the rejuvenation of the old Engine House on the Wetlands is the reconstruction of its big chimney as a potential nesting-place for bats  – and for swifts, who spend their summers in the marshes before heading off to Africa for the winter. To encourage these welcome temporary immigrants three of my Waterside neighbours, Teresa, Linda and Liz, have joined with other locals to knit an entire flock of swifts! The fruits of their labours are on show at the Mill, Coppermill Lane until mid-April. What a creative tribe now dwells in Walthamstow – see in the background the famous Walthamstow  bird-murals – no wonder it’s just been appointed the London Borough of Culture!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Show-biz post-script: There are some of the Great whose passing we can’t ignore. I saw Ken Dodd “live” twice – once at the height of his legendary sold-out run at the London Palladium – a breath-taking, unstoppable phenomenon – steaming through at at least 150 gags an hour, unlike anything before or since – and many years later, at a Sunday-night show at Bath Theatre Royal. Very slightly slower, but still unstoppable – once he was onstage even if you wanted to you couldn’t get him off! This was Ken at 10.45, having been on stage since 8: “I just had a message – the car-park over the road closes at 11.30. I tell you what  – we’ll all go over there together at half-past and if they’re closing we’ll duff ’em up…”

OK here’s a challenge: what one-liner might Doddy have come up with at the Pearly Gates when he looked round to see Stephen Hawking arriving just behind him? All good, respectful and suitably plumptious gags accepted.

 

Please respond to any of the above if you’d like to – just scroll back to the top of this page and click on the word “Comments”. 

For previous entries, just scroll down

 

Links:

THE CENTURY THEATRE
http://www.centurytheatre.co.uk/

THE THEATRE BY THE LAKE

https://www.theatrebythelake.com/

UPFRONT GALLERY AND PUPPET THEATRE

http://www.up-front.com/puppet_theatre.html

TOLD BY AN IDIOT

https://www.toldbyanidiot.org/productions/napoleon-disrobed/

PARK THEATRE

https://www.parktheatre.co.uk/

SWIFTS AT THE MILL

https://themille17.org/events/swifts-over-walthamstow/

 

 

 

 

 

 

So here’s your starter for ten – of what is this a photograph? An over-fed earth-worm? A leather Roman U-bend?  Part of a musical squeeze-box? Believe it or not, this is a Significant Theatrical Relic.  Were you to hasten to Gough Square, off Fleet Street in London – as did I with my friend Mr Burt on Saturday last – you would find it amongst other fine mementos at the home of the late Dr Samuel Johnson.  This is nothing other than the puffer David Garrick used to powder his wig before stepping out onto the Drury Lane stage, to wrench cheers and tears from his adoring public, the greatest star of 18th century England.

Davey Garrick and Sam Johnson were both products of the East Midlands, and travelled together from Lichfield to London to seek their fortunes. Throughout their days as eventual stars respectively of the theatrical and literary worlds they stayed firm friends, and now the curators of the Samuel Johnson Museum have marked the three hundredth anniversary of Garrick’s birth with a special exhibition, pulling together items from Lichfield, from the Garrick Club and other sources, and it’s a treat.

As a bonus, if you time your visit well, you may also witness there a show called appropriately “Star!” by the theatre company Palimpsest, in which the personable and talented RADAgrad Nicholas Barber (Rex Fairbrother to “Archers” fans) delivers an engaging solo performance as the young Garrick, on the threshold of greatness and aching with love for a beautiful dancer called La Violetta.

 

Pictures from the Exhibition:

The young David Garrick, and (right) his first serious girl-friend and co-star Peg Woffington. Below he can be seen in married bliss with his adored dancer, whose real name was Eva-Marie. She was to outlive him by forty years.

Each generation of British theatre-folk has its Great Actors, from Burbage on, each age declaring that “naturalism” in acting has at last been achieved – a fascinating subject, one I’m rather given to expounding on over a glass or two, so be warned. Garrick especially was praised for his “realistic” capturing of emotional moments, reducing  entire audiences to sobbing wrecks. But even then technology helped – he apparently had in his make-up box a mechanical “fright-wig”, which would allow  – at the moment of encountering his father’s ghost – Hamlet’s hair suddenly to stand on end! I’ve no doubt that somewhere is a lost appendix to Stanislavsky’s “An Actor Prepares” with the heading “Your Wig: an essential aid to Emotional Memory…”

So if you’re in London, go to Gough Square and find out about one of the all-time great double-acts  – Sam and Davey – there’s a link below.

I think I mentioned last time events commemorating another great theatrical original, Stephen Joseph, at the theatre bearing his name at Scarborough. There was another in early November at Manchester University, where I was lucky enough to be a student of his in the formative days of Britain’s first university degree course purely in drama, and subsequently  – along with several other graduating students – an actor in his company at the Scarborough Library Theatre-in-the-Round.  Sadly Stephen was taken off by cancer while still in his forties, in 1967.

Two old friends from those Manchester days, the designer Alistair Livingstone and Professor Tony Jackson organised with others two remarkable days of events, where people from all over the world gathered to salute Stephen’s contribution to the present shape of Western theatre, and indeed to the present shape of many theatre buildings, as the champion of liberating play-makers from the polite constraints of the proscenium arch, opening the way to all kinds of creative spaces, from the smallest studio to the grandest modern arena, and to all kinds of creative thinking amongst practitioners of all stripes.

Stories, pictures and videos were swapped amongst a remarkably mixed bunch of actors, academics, architects, directors, designers, technicians and writers of plays, films and books. Some of us were given a chance to share with the current students a little of what we’d learned, and to watch them exploring with directors the possibilities SJ had opened up all those years ago.

These events at Manchester and Scarborough were unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Many of us hadn’t met each other for more than half a century, and wouldn’t have done if Alistair and a few others hadn’t chosen to make them happen. We all knew we had been profoundly influenced by this extraordinary man, but it wasn’t until now that we realised that we were part of a unique, unintended fellowship.

Now there is a rapidly expanding Facebook presence, and work is under way to develop a brand-new Stephen Joseph Association.  Old friendships have been re-kindled, sadness shared over the inevitable loss through the years of much-loved comrades, and new friendships generated.  The links are below.

Back in London there are so many places reflecting the pioneering work done back in the 60s and 70s out there in the regions by Stephen and other directors  who seized the times as they were a-changing  – at Stoke, at Scarborough, in Manchester, Nottingham, at Glasgow, and of course Edinburgh from whence flows still the annual stream of Festival-fired fringe work.  A direct link to all that in London is the PleasanceTheatre and Bar near King’s Cross – the “London branch” of a key Edinburgh venue, where last week I saw the sparky five-strong Cyphers company deliver a merry staging of “Northanger Abbey”. Over in west London at the Bush – once a pub theatre, now a handsome two-auditoria venue in a restored public library – the director of the Sheffield Crucible Rob Hastie has just given us a sharp insight into a same-sex relationship in crisis in “Kith and Kin”.

And south of the river at Southwark Playhouse Hannah Chissick – until recently the director at Harrogate – fired up a zingy account of Brecht’s “Mother Courage” with the huge, startling talent of Josie Lawrence at its core.

All three shows presented in open, unadorned staging – actors and audience combining to explore lively, potent ideas in a simple shared space. I reckon Stephen would have loved them all.

And towards the end of November I was back on the road to North Yorkshire. The most celebrated of Stephen’s theatrical descendants is of course Sir Alan Ayckbourn, and seven years on from a production of his terrific farce “Taking Steps” I directed at Shanghai Theatre Academy, that school has found the funding for a project to make Mandarin translations of more of his plays available for study and performance in China. Ayckbourn in China? But surely he’s so English? All I can tell you is “Taking Steps”  went down a treat – people are people, and China is changing so quickly – theirs is a society with lots of businesses small and large, with more and more middle-class preoccupations, dealing with much the same bewildering relationship quirks as folk in Godalming or East Grinstead.  With this in mind meetings were arranged to take place in Scarborough between Sir Alan and a deputation from Shanghai, led by the energetic and engaging Professor William Sun. I was asked to take part in the discussions, which were fun and positive, and all we can say at this stage is that they may start to bear fruit in Shanghai some time late in 2018. Watch this space for updates.

It’s always special to visit the Yorkshire coast: here’s a picture of a November dawn from my window at the Crown Spa Hotel, on the Scarborough South Cliff.

Wherever you are – may you and yours have a Very Merry Christmas.

Links:

David Garrick & Dr Johnson:       https://www.drjohnsonshouse.org/index.html

Stephen Joseph Legacy Group:    https://www.facebook.com/groups/713828718814959/

Stephen Joseph Association:  http://www.stephenjosephassociation.org/

Books about Stephen: STEPHEN JOSEPH: THEATRE PIONEER & PROVOCATEUR by Paul Elsam

http://bookshop.blackwell.co.uk/bookshop/product/9781472586711?gclid=Cj0KCQiA38jRBRCQARIsACEqIeta0jS0aMuOnb0xeCD7_X_wdBkgZ16Tr2VWLp9AiO9ZkETmifw1W7YaAtTgEALw_wcB

THE FULL ROUND by Terry Lane

https://www.ebay.co.uk/p/The-Full-Round-The-Several-Lives-and-Theatrical-Legacy-of-Stephen-Joseph-by-Terry-Lane-Paperback/88607799

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Now then – we’ve survived Hamlet’s girl-friend, we been battered by Brian – is that it for storms for now? The sky curdled, winds whipped up white horses on the reservoir, it felt like the End of the World, but the Four Horsemen failed to appear. The US President went back to tweeting childish nonsense, the weird Korean carried on piling up bombs and rockets and Mrs May and her futile band carried on squirming and simpering in Brussels. So let’s us just carry on with our humdrum, sometimes happy, sometimes even creative lives – maybe we’ll all last just a little longer.

Far from Trump, far from cataracts and hurricanoes: donkey rides at the South bay, Scarborough

An early creative inspiration for many of  us in the theatre world was a remarkable man called Stephen Joseph.There’s a theatre named after him in Scarborough, where I’m sure most of you know Alan Ayckbourn has over several decades created many famous plays. It’s an unavoidable signpost to one’s age to note that that, as a former student of Stephen’s at Manchester University, I was part of a gathering to mark fifty years since he died of cancer. We new graduates cut our teeth as professional actors in Stephen Joseph’s company at the Theatre-in-the-Round in Scarborough Library, the fore-runner of what is now the Stephen Joseph Theatre, the splendidly revived and refurbished Odeon Cinema next to the railway station. A key event that season was the production of a new play called “Meet My Father”, directed by Stephen Joseph with one of our fellow grads George Taylor (later George Taylor PhD, Senior Lecturer.) The play had been written by a former actor in Stephen’s company working at that time for BBC radio, with a brief to create a “well-made play”, something which for a 1960s “new-wave” writer rather went against the grain.

The play was staged, a West End producer came to see it – and thus Alan Ayckbourn’s first major commercial hit came about, when it appeared in London under the title “Relatively Speaking”. It starred Celia Johnson, Michael Hordern Richard Briers and Jennifer Hilary. The Scarborough production had featured David Jarrett and Peter King in the male roles, with two fresh-faced Manchester grads, Joanna Tope and Catherine Naish in the female parts. It is wondrous to report that both these terrific ladies – fresh of face as ever – were at our gathering, and here they are with Sir Alan – plus the original poster.

Alan, of course continues  to expand his amazing catalogue of work. During the weekend I at last caught up with his revival of “Taking Steps” – the play which for me resonates with memories of Shanghai (see previous blog-posts) – and his latest comedy for the Scarborough company, “A Brief History of Women”. This is the writer the Guardian once called Britain’s leading feminist playwright, and he’s not lost an ounce of his touch in creating deft comic situations and lovely real characters – gifts for actors, female and male. Another extraordinary piece “The Divide” opens at the Old Vic in London on February 1st.

Here’s one of our occasional contributions to the pub quiz: which play first produced at Scarborough has generated the most income world-wide? Here’s a clue – it wasn’t written by Alan Ayckbourn. One of our Manchester grads, Terry Wilton, has become the third of my friends to appear in the West End production of “The Woman in Black”, adapted by Stephen Mallatrat from Susan Hill’s novel, first directed at Scarborough by Robin Herford in 1987 – and repeatedly revived for packed audiences by Robin ever since all over the world.

It’s a great ghost story – a brilliant conjunction of economical writing, neat direction and terrific acting. If you haven’t seen it and you’re in London – why not go tonight?  ’tis Hallowe’en after all. It’s at the Fortune Theatre. Be sure to book a seat on the aisle…

Elsewhere in London, I’ve clocked a few shows these last weeks in the course of my duties looking after NYU students. Perhaps the most striking was the high-octane children’s theatre troupe Les Enfants Terribles at Wilton’s Music Hall (no relation to Terry, right) the deliciously re-instated  Victorian venue near Tower Bridge.                                                                                                                                                     

The combination of atmospheric venue, cleverly-wrought and manipulated puppets in dark, crunchy story-lines works a treat – although I have one note for all actors who find it necessary to use microphones – please don’t shout!  To tell one of the stories the company had managed to engage Dame Judi Dench in an audio-recording, which they and their puppets illustrated in actions. I so wanted to plead with them to listen and learn from her crystal-clear, unforced, beautifully-paced delivery. Guys, let the audience come to you – fun though your show is, if you shout into your throat-mikes after a while we all stop listening!

Another interesting event has been watching Juliet Stevenson in “Wings” at the Young Vic. Now this was written as a radio play, and is the story of a female stroke-victim who, before being struck down with illness, had been a noted aviatrix. To make it theatrical, the director hit on the idea of the character delivering parts of the play while floating above the stage in a wired harness, to invoke her life as a flyer.

Juliet Stevenson is of course brilliant, and manages to rivet the audience’s attention to her character’s lines and the unusual staging with breathtaking skill, both interpretive and physical, gliding elegantly some ten feet or so above the transverse stage.

Alas, the night we were there these exertions brought on a nose-bleed, and Juliet had to leave the stage for very nearly half an hour. But the audience took it well, we all chatted while she recovered, she played the part superbly when she came back, and earned a rapturous standing ovation.

Pictures: The Telegraph

Meanwhile  at home in the marshes, our habitat has hit the news.

The Guardian ran a major feature on the opening to the public of “Europe’s Biggest Urban Wetland “. And you’ve been arriving in your hundreds, with your buggies, your bikes and your running-shoes. And of course you’re welcome, very welcome – but please, please this isn’t a park!! It’s a wild-life preserve, and the birds and the animals and the fish aren’t used to hundreds of people making loud noises and leaving empty beer-bottles and allowing their kids to throw stones into the water. The site managers haven’t yet got all the signage in place – there are bits where there are good reasons for you not to run or cycle –  but please read and observe what signs there are. It’s an amazing environment – just enjoy it slowly, and peacefully.

And finally. Some of you who are very old may remember there once was a young actor called Ellis Jones who sometimes appeared on the TV. I just came across a blog-site with the encouraging by-line of “Character Actors Who Are Still With Us”.  Still with you folks, living and thriving in the Wetlands…

http://familiar-unknown.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/ellis-jones.html

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