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Autumn 2019 – politics, plays and a poet lost

30 November 2019 by Ellis Jones Leave a Comment

“Since almost everyone can talk, it hardly seems fair that only a few come to be admired for it.” Thus the great Clive James, who finally left us this week, after talking and writing brilliantly through many months – indeed years – of painfully borrowed time, and who anyone with ears to hear or eyes to read admired beyond description. What a talent. What a loss.

My evenings this week have been filled with a “binge” catch-up on the first two series of “The Crown” and one episode contains a re-creation of the legendary 1960s political satire “Beyond the Fringe”. This brilliantly cheeky show launched a quartet of amazing careers – Alan Bennett, Peter Cook, Dudley Moore and Jonathan Miller, who sadly also has now departed.

Among Dr Miller’s awesome range of achievements were many celebrated theatre projects, including in recent years directing final year students at RADA – however a much earlier production today swam back into memory. In 1970 one of my great pals was Norman Beaton, whom I went to watch deliver a super-cool Ariel in Miller’s post-colonial version of “The Tempest” at the Mermaid Theatre. I was quite surprised to track down this image a few hours ago – the show also featured Rudi Walker as Caliban.

There’s a 2015 conversation between Clive James and Jonathan Miller on Youtube – link below.

Ok, now please pay attention. This contribution is written in November, which is the AUTUMN – not, repeat not Christmas! For weeks I have fought my way through throngs of shoppers with ring-a-jing music swilling in the air, Christmas trees sprayed with fake snow stacked outside a church, a neighbouring house has sparkly lights and paper bells in the window. This is November folks, damp bonfire ashes still smoulder, bedraggled poppies are still pinned to lapels, why don’t we just enjoy this season – there are rich gold-brown leaves to be scuffed through, woodsmoke to be savoured, it’s the time of roast chestnuts and toffee apples, the football, hockey and rugby leagues in full – if muddy -swing.

Autumn morning, Kingston balcony view

Well OK, if you’re one of our Kiwi or Oz readers no doubt you’re just pulling the tabs off a few tubes while settling to a Test match under the springtime sun, while here in the Old Country we are fighting to keep the turning year’s precious traditions, as the Philistines drag us towards a Trumpian dystopia. If today’s alarming election polls are right, as Britain’s New Johnsonian Age unfolds next Christmas in the shopping malls green-masked Santas will sing of special-offer hip replacements and tinsel-bright teeth implants, available through US Big Pharma Finance! Ching-a-ling!

In September and some way into October here in London the summer fitfully lingered, long enough for my happy troupe of student visitors from New York to enjoy outdoor theatre shows in our capital – and the one which they all seemed to love was “Evita” at the Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre. This paired-down, gutsy new version of the Lloyd-Webber musical is coming back in 2020 to be re-staged at the Barbican. Casting has yet to be announced – but I hope they’re bringing back Sarah Pauly as Evita – at the Park she was quite terrific.

We also caught “As You Like It” at Shakespeare’s Globe – with a brilliant, sparky Rosalind from RADAgrad Jack Laskey – but now the nights have drawn in the Globe’s actors have retreated to their indoor Jacobean playhouse, the Wanamaker. About to be on offer are candle-lit versions of “Henry V1″and “Richard 111” – but be warned! This is an exquisite space, and the experience of watching a play in flickering light with the honeyed perfume of beeswax in the air is pure magic – UNLESS you have been persuaded to buy one of the low-cost seats in the upper galleries, from whence you will see but a fraction of the stage, and the wooden bench on which you perch will get harder and harder as the play goes on…

As the afternoons shortened in October I didn’t take much persuading to spend a few days with my friends Doug and Kate down at Le Cap d’Antibes. The lingering sun allowed a couple of swims in the sea, and a wondrous al fresco lunch at the famous Colombe d’Or restaurant in St Paul de Vence, up in the hills above the Cote d’Azur. The hotel, its restaurant and terrace are littered with important works of art, the place echoes with shades of parties thrown in the 60s by Yves Montand and Simone Signoret, and the food – of course – is mouth-watering. The day we were there a rather up-market British vintage car club turned up for lunch, the car-park a-gleam with polished chrome…

The Terrace, Colombe d’Or
A brace of Matisses

Four-wheel visitors

Meanwhile, down on the coast, the season was turning...

And so back to a soggy Kingston, to my sofa and the box set. And talking of posh cars – where do they get the ones in “The Crown”? They must have raided every vintage car collection in Europe, finding glorious examples of spot-on appropriate vehicles, from an Austin A40 to a Silver Wraith Convertible. Talk about production values – Netflix don’t stint on budgets. If you don’t have Netflix you can now get the first two series on DVD and I think it would make anyone a great present – be they monarchist or republican – when the festivities do arrive (towards the end of next month, in case you’d forgotten.)

I now unreservedly take back any doubt I cast earlier on Matt Smith’s tackling of the nuances of class difference. His Philip Mountbatten, alongside Claire Foy’s remarkable Elizabeth Windsor, is totally convincing – and the pair of them deliver Peter Morgan’s extraordinary scripts with insight and great acting skill. The scripts are of course made-up private conversations and imagined events – but the research that’s gone into both well-documented history and the inevitable accumulation of gossip and rumour has clearly been intense, and Morgan’s writing matches his cast’s acting. So I salute all concerned, and a big hand please for Casting Director Nina Gold – not least for the utterly inspired choice of Vanessa Kirby as Margaret, giving as detailed and nuanced a performance as you’ll see on any screen anywhere this decade.

(I haven’t yet taken in all of Season 3 – it would be interesting to know how fellow addicts of the early seasons feel about the new cast.)

Earlier this month, as the all-too-real history of 20th century wars was recalled in the days around November the 11th, I was asked by Music Director Peter Broadbent to read some poetry relevant to remembrance at a concert given at St Gabriel’s Church in Pimlico. This was with the very distinguished choir, The Joyful Company of Singers, and it was a real privilege to work with such a fine, gloriously in tune ensemble. The work included superb compositions by the late Malcolm Williamson, which you can hear the choir singing on the link below.

Alas I never met Clive James – however in his later years his failing health wouldn’t permit him to fly, so on several occasions he crossed the Atlantic on the Queen Mary 2, during the time when I was in charge of companies of RADA graduates giving classical theatre shows on board. Two of our actors one day reported they had encountered Clive taking a morning stroll, and he’d approached them to say how refreshing it was to hear “Shakespeare spoken properly”. That’s a report which made all of us at Gower Street very, very proud, not to say Joyful.

LINKS

Clive James talking with Jonathan Miller: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4BUp4AylZE

The Joyful Company of Singers: https://youtu.be/e-8nL02r-FE

Filed Under: The Blog

Summer 2019 – an award and new horizons

3 August 2019 by Ellis Jones Leave a Comment

There are many good things about Stratford upon Avon, and many remarkable people who live there. Not least a doughty crew of scribes, of locally-based journalists, authors and other thinking, articulate folk, who meet under the banner of “Bran and Chaff”. Each year they hold a lunch to celebrate Shakespeare’s birthday, an alternative to the annual Shakespeare Birthday Lunch and procession, an event dating back to 1824.

The “official” Birthday Lunch involves presenting a trophy sponsored by a Stratford jewellery company, the Pragnell Award, to a distinguished theatre practitioner, academic or organisation. This year it went to the celebrated Polish Shakespearian Professor Jerzy Limon, and previous recipients include many theatrical dames and knights, such as Judi Dench and Anthony Sher.

The “Bran and Chaffers” offer a slightly lower-key, Not-the-Pragnell award, to someone who has served the Shakespearian cause, but with perhaps not quite so noticeable a profile, such as the quietly brilliant actor David Troughton, Liz Flower of the Flower’s Brewery Family (who organised for years the “official” lunch) and the poet and former director of the Stratford Poetry Festival, Roger Pringle. So I was hugely honoured to be offered their 2019 award, on the strength of my having steered the training of a number of today’s eminent Shakespearian actors.

Now, while it’s true graduates from my time as head of actor training at RADA feature strongly on any recent list of great classical performances, I would be the last to claim any personal credit for their achievements, or for those of the extraordinary team of specialist tutors who actually delivered the teaching I was tasked to co-ordinate. But co-ordinate I did, and with my wondrously wise and caring colleagues Patricia Myers and Nick Barter did our best to look after and guide these unique, special young talents on their way into an uncertain, unpredictable trade.

Since then we’ve seen some amazing work, including for instance a range of Hamlets – Ben Whishaw, Maxine Peake, Jack Laskey, Tom Hiddleston, Michelle Terry – plus, with reference to Stratford, Ed Bennett’s famous 2008 short-notice RSC take-over from the injured David Tennant, recorded by The New York Times as “Bennett…an actor who had been given the opportunity of his career and knew just what to do with it.” That’s our boy!

I had two bites at this particular cherry. Sandy Holt, the moving spirit behind Bran and Chaff, had persuaded the outstanding Irish artist Eve Parnell to create as the award a Shakespeare-inspired picture, and Eve had agreed to fly over specially to present it at the lunch on April 27. But that was the weekend, if you remember, when the British isles were hit by a hurricane-level storm, and all flights out of Dublin were cancelled – so we proceeded with the lunch, and I was given a photo of the picture instead! And we had a terrific meal in the restaurant atop the Royal Shakespeare Theatre and were treated to tales of Performing the Bard by two brilliant former RSC company members, Nicholas Day and Hannah Young.

 

 

 

 

 

Later, it was decided that another date would be set for Eve to present the award in person – and so on a July Monday, the Bran and Chaffers hosted another gathering, at the Falcon Hotel Stratford – and this time the winds from Ireland were fair, Eve arrived and bestowed on me her lovely piece of work.

It’s an ink drawing of Touchstone in “As You Like It” and he’s saying “The more pity that fools may not speak wisely what wisemen do foolishly…”

We can only hope there is a Touchstone somewhere in Downing St…

And so here’s the summer, and it finds me at new location. Instead of each morning staring at Canada geese swarming a reservoir in east London, I now start each day with Canada geese swarming the river to the capital’s south west, and witness a parade of river-users – rowers, swimmers, skullers, sailors, fishers, fishes, ducks, gulls, geese and cormorants. Upstream is Kingston, Hampton Court and Garrick’s Villa, downstream is Teddington Lock – where the the tides reach – Richmond, Twickenham and after a few winding miles, London. These are places resonant with the nation’s history and sometimes with my own, so watch this space for further reflections as the year unfolds.

So how is your summer reading? I have three recommendations to offer TYA blog readers. For those intrigued by the ways in which the craft of acting can be taught and learned, Vladimir Mirodan’s The Actor and the Character is now available in paperback – a rich, detailed exploration of how the acting process has intertwined with our understanding of human behaviour throughout history.

Hot off the press is a wonderfully succinct, practical book on how to make sure people people really listen to – and remember – you and what you’ve got to say. No surprises that it’s written by a terrific actor and director, now also a highly successful international business trainer, Dominic Colenso. The title says it all – Impact.

And for those hungry for more about a glove-maker’s son from Stratford who became history’s most celebrated playwright and poet, seek out Nicholas Fogg’s Hidden Shakespeare – a book about a Stratford lad by a Stratford lad, taking the reader into fascinating new and unexpected territory.

Meanwhile, are any of you still thinking of joining a summer school? If you like the idea of studying performance skills in the Mediterranean, I hear quite cheap flights can still be found this year even though this is peak season. And it may still be possible to find a late place on a course in a wonderful location by an olive grove in Greece, where several of my distinguished former RADA colleagues have put together an intriguing programme. Check out the Kalamata Drama web-site on the link at the bottom of this page.

Back in Stratford in April, although I was the only guest collecting a Bran and Chaff prize, Sandy made sure we actors all went home with a really clever “goody bag”, including mini-sculptures by local artist Claire Brierley. Here they are – Shakespeare again, this time the King and the Fool, fashioned from small shards of wood off-cuts. Good aren’t they? There’s a link about Claire below – check out her work when you visit Warwickshire.

And now I find there are three Fools in my room…Touchstone on the wall, the wood-chip Fool on the shelf…and then, when I moved house, in a dusty case I found this picture, a 1970s black & white image taken during a camera rehearsal for a Thames Television version of “King Lear”. 

https://www.dropbox.com/s/xjck7657sq32av4/King%20Pat%20and%20Jones%20the%20Fool.jpg?dl=0

Who might be the goofy wispy-haired Fool gazing wistfully at Nuncle? And observe the King – played by the late great Irish actor Patrick Magee – seen here flicking the ash off his cigarette…You can read more about this amazing, sadly missed star on the link below.

And while we’re on Stratford and its remarkable inhabitants, few are as remarkable as the traveller, admired writer and revered teacher Jay Norris, who this year on Bastille Day celebrated her birthday with an enthusiastic swim in the pool on a ship circumnavigating the UK – Happy 99th, Jay!

Links – click to visit the relevant web-site:

Nicholas Day, actor

Hannah Young, actor

Eve Parnell, Artist

Claire Brierley, Artist

The Actor and the Character

Impact

Hidden Shakespeare

Kalamata International Drama Summer School

Patrick Magee – Drunk, Hell-raiser..and star

 

 

Filed Under: The Blog

April 12th Of ships, camels and Shakespeare

11 April 2019 by Ellis Jones Leave a Comment


This was Egypt three weeks ago. Before Egypt I was briefly in India. Anything – oh anything – to get away from Brexit….

Last time I wrote about New Zealand, where all our thoughts flew when we heard of the terrorist attack, and to whose citizens we can only send sympathy, love and admiration for the quiet dignity of their response. I’ve a few more lovely memories of my time there still to share, but for now let’s briefly catch up on travels and events elsewhere.

As regular readers know, a fairly weird range of projects comes my way, including sometimes on ships. This time it was to create theatre workshops reflecting “A Thousand and One Nights”, for passengers on a ship sailing from India to Egypt via the Red Sea. The team was me, Cyphers director Marcus Bazley, and Pallavi Patel, recently Costume Supervisor for the Indian Disney stage musical of “Aladdin”. Pallavi lives in Mumbai (which she and most locals still, by the way call “Bombay”) so we flew there to join her and the ship.

It was frustrating to leave the plane and cross in a single hour by taxi one of the world’s more amazing cities and immediately to set off elsewhere. Swirling traffic, ladies in saris clinging to the backs of men on scooters hurtling past dusty water trucks, amazing Victorian architecture, glimpses of cricket, and of the dazzling inner-city beach at Chowpatty.

We decided to base our workshops on just one of the Arabian Nights stories, the original tale of “Aladdin” as translated by the Victorian polymath Sir Richard Burton. His is a rather different tale from that told to generations of British Christmas pantomime audiences, and indeed from the story as told by Disney. The thing about Richard Burton, apart from sharing a name with a legendary Welsh actor, was that he was a dead ringer for Freddie Mercury…..

The tale of the street urchin and his magic lamp as told by Burton makes lively workshop material – and was complemented on the ship by lectures by the distinguished and irrepressible writer Tahir Shah. Tahir has written over twenty books, including “In Arabian Nights”, which contains the true story of how he survived solitary confinement in a Pakistani jail after his arrest on charges of spying (subsequently dropped). There’s a link to finding out more about the wondrous World of Tahir – adventurer, writer and film-maker – at the end of this post.

On our way to the Red Sea we called in at Oman for coconuts and bananas and marvelled at white, white sand and nodding palms.

The Gulf of Aden is a pirate zone, so for a while extra armed security appeared on board, who slipped away as we sailed north, with the Yemen then Saudi Arabia to our right, to our left the ancient Land of Punt. This, called by the ancient Egyptians the “Land of the Gods”, is modern Djibouti and northern Ethiopia. We sailed by, latter day Sinbads, and with our fellow-passengers re-told the magic lamp story, all of us decked out in Pallavi’s lovely costumes, past lands where ancient conflicts still seethe, and where all-too-present starvation prowls.

All adventures come to an end, and a few hours after land-fall in Egypt (where we met the above camel – called, believe it or not, Sinbad) we were bound for Gatwick – and the next day back to, oh dear, benighted, Brexit-bound Britain.

But hey, for now theatre life in London thrives, and my lovely students from NYU Tisch have been savouring rich fare – work for instance featuring former students from Gower St days – Naomi Frederick in “Agnes Collander” at the Jermyn St Theatre, and Tom Hiddleston in “Betrayal” at the Pinter.

So soon after leaving Egypt it was almost as exotic to go with my Americans to discover the gloriously resurrected theatre at Alexandra Palace, once host to performers like Gracie Fields, Ellen Terry and RADA’s revered founder, Herbert Beerbohm Tree. In amongst the vast spaces of the East Court, the Palm Court, the Skating Rink and beside the world’s oldest television news studio you will find a magnificent performance space.

    There we saw a strong “Richard the Third”, co-produced at Bristol and Northampton, on tour to those places and beyond – and soon afterwards caught the version of “Richard the Second” currently at the Wanamaker Playhouse. This all-female company is led by Adjoah Andoh’s fiercely passionate Richard, who the night we were in drew a sour chuckle from the audience on Richard’s assertion that England “…has made a shameful conquest of itself”. No, let’s not mention the “B” word! Let’s reluctantly offer a warning to any of you who haven’t yet visited this playhouse. It’s a magical place, a beautiful creation from original architect’s plans of a 17th century theatre, in which all productions are lit by bees-wax candles.

    But you should know that while the seats above the front row of the upper level are attractively inexpensive, the sight-lines are villainous. For much of the time you can only see about a third of the stage, so that we felt we’d experienced much of “Richard 11” more as a radio play, rather than a stage show.

    One other special event to mention – Ireland’s currently most charismatic actor Cillian Murphy is giving an extraordinary performance at the Barbican in “Grief is the Thing with Feathers”, a production co-produced by Complicité and Judith Dimant’s new Wayward Productions. If you’re a “Peaky Blinders” fan like me, or if you’ve not yet seen this guy, do go and watch. His character is obsessed with, and becomes occupied by the Crow as personalised in the famous Ted Hughes poem. Weird, brilliant and disturbing.

    Now, today is a Significant Day in that it marks the 80th birthday of the most successful British playwright, the writer whose shrewd, wise, witty – and sometimes edgy – comedies have added to the gaiety of our nation (and many others) for six decades. Happy Birthday, Sir Alan Ayckbourn. In Scarborough and across the globe the theatre world salutes!

    In September, Sir Alan’s EIGHTY-THIRD play will be produced – called, appropriately enough “Birthdays Past, Birthdays Present”.

    Links:

    Tahir Shah: http://www.tahirshah.com/

    Pallavi Patel: https://pallavipatel.com/

    Cyphers Theatre Company: https://www.cyphers.org.uk/

    P.S. You will have noticed that the pictures in this post are oddly of different sizes. This is because WordPress have introduced a new format and I simply can’t fathom how best to edit and post photos – so if you have any ideas as to how to get this under control – please share via the Comments link. “Tis charity to show…”

    Filed Under: The Blog

    March 1st A Sultry New Year and a tap on the knee

    1 March 2019 by Ellis Jones Leave a Comment

    Ok,I’m back. In fact I got back some time ago but February filled up so quickly and here we are, St David’s Day upon us and nothing posted since the autumn – shameful! Nothing short of a disgrace! So where have you been, I hear you ask. What, pray, kept you from blogging these several months? Well dammit, Carruthers, it was the heat, the heat and those confounded drums…

    Oh all right there weren’t many drums, but I was in New Zealand and it was the start of their summer, sharing festivities with my amazing friends the Townsends, and there were parties and sightseeing and swimming, and there was cricket and football and Shakespeare to be watched.

    And then there was the pedal-power vineyard touring. And the dolphins.

    I was there for five weeks. And to be honest I needed to unwind after a tricky start to December. Suddenly it was time to move on from Walthamstow. A chance has arisen to move to a lovely spot by the River Thames, a spiffing flat coming available in the spring sometime after my scheduled return from the Antipodes. So my worldly goods – beds, books, chairs, the lot – had to be marshalled into storage in Surrey, and arrangements made for me to stay with my sister in Hampshire until such time as the new place is ready. So this, dear reader, is the Interim Hampshire Blog. The next edition, rather than Words from Waterside will be Thoughts from the Riverbank. If there are any of you left out there, please stay tuned.

    As well as moving there were was work to be sorted, shows to be seen, theatre essays to be marked, private students to be coached ahead of the Christmas break. And then another old friend died. Andrew Burt was suddenly diagnosed with advanced cancer in late November, and was gone within three weeks. His passing was dignified and gentle, eased with loving care especially by our mutual friend Joanna Munro, someone with a heart as big and warm as her wondrous talent as a performer. Jo led our farewells to Andrew at Mortlake, with great skill and sensitivity . Obituaries appeared – there was a good one in The Telegraph – but if you’d like to see some notes on Andrew’s career – from Jack Sugden in “Emmerdale Farm” to the rousing voice heralding “News at Ten” – I’ve put some on a link at the end of this post.

    So I rushed from the crematorium back to Walthamstow to see my goods off to storage in a van steered by two cheery Russians, shoved some summer clothes and a toothbrush into my one remaining empty suitcase and headed for Heathrow. Moving house and long-distance travel have to be coped with in similar ways – in my case by slipping into a low-tempo, almost Zen state, dozing as often as possible.

    I dozed my way first to Los Angeles, where in the few hours’ wait before my connecting flight I purchased a beer, a burger and some joke presents from the Donald Trump Store.

    You can buy speaking Christmas cards with greetings in Donald’s very own voice, and packs of “Trump small hand soap”. Also you can buy loo-roll with his face on every sheet….

    My plane from LA to Auckland arrived late, so I had a bit of a wait for the connection to Wellington where my pals live. But hey, suddenly it was summer and there was hot sunshine and pohutukawa trees in full bloom. These are the local “Christmas trees” with gorgeous scarlet flowers, and they’re abundant –  at the roadside, at the cricket ground, in people’s gardens, and of course standing guard by those endless, empty beaches.  An early treat was to watch New Zealand play Sri Lanka at the Wellington Basin Reserve – just think, a Hull City supporter blinking at a sun-splashed cricket field but two days after leaving the gathering gloom of a British December:

    To trace the start of this adventure you must go back, back many decades to a black and white, windswept East Yorkshire school playing field. The race was on, the field flanked either side by a Brylcreemed, Marty Wilde lookalike to the left, and a lean, tousle-headed streak to the right.

    These two outriders went on to glory. Well, up to point. Some months later we came first and second in the Hull inter-schools half mile, and were picked to represent the City in the All Yorkshire School Sports. At which we didn’t get past the “heats” stage, and thus the Townsend-Jones brand pales somewhat in sporting history alongside the likes of Bannister, Coe and Farrah. However, from thence we set off on two separate winding roads, often bumpy – even more often very muddy – but managing to wave to each other and stay in touch, most of the time anyway, Townsend threading through minefields of politics, social services and journalism, Jones bobbing on the fickle waters of showbiz and the arts.

    Our birthdays are either side of Christmas, and this year we were marking (whisper it) a combined century and a half on the planet, and Valérie – the amazing Mrs Townsend – insisted on flying me out so we could share a Special Yuletide.  And boy was it special. First off was a party out on the decking in their Wellington garden, with some very distinguished guests. Townsend, courtesy of a replacement limb or two, is still something of a demon on the tennis court – note the admiring glance from the guest on his right – and his political wisdom inevitably attracts requests for  guidance from Jacinda, the current NZ Prime Minister…

    (Photo by Murray Lloyd)

    The party was a gas – then there was Test Match cricket at the Basin, a wonderfully democratic place where at lunch-break the pitch (apart from the current wicket) is opened up for practice by all the local enthusiasts. See below:  Felix – the youngest member of the clan Townsend – on lunch-break fielding alert.

    Kiwi passions seem to split more or less evenly between the sports field and the vineyard, so having sampled the one I was whisked off to explore the other. The winemakers around Martinborough, north of Wellington,  offer five-dollars-a-head tasting sessions, but this being a socially responsible society motorised tasting tours are discouraged. However – and here’s the cunning marketing twist – pedal-power vehicles are readily and cheaply available for hire. There were six of us in our party, and we chose a 4-seater 4 wheeler, plus a tandem. I do recommend this –  a merry form of transport for an even merrier pastime….

    (Townsend briefly commandeered a Maserati as an alternative – fortunately it had no engine…)

    We had so much fun during all those five weeks – so many lovely interesting people and places, terrific food and memorable wines, dolphins you can swim with, seals on the beaches – and mostly no people on the beaches – the weird cries of tui birds and birds of prey in the air, ferns, palm trees lakes and rivers in huge landscapes.

    Driftwood by the Tasman Sea, Whanganui

    It’s the land of the Long White Cloud, and there’s no wonder the film industry has taken root there, following Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings/Hobbit epics. This trip we were always in the North Island – the fjords and glaciers are in the South – but each excursion brought a different set of vistas, from stark rocks shielding the seal colonies at Cape Palliser, to the busy paddle-steamer plying the wide river at Whanganui, to the sub-tropical splendour of the Bay of Islands, rich in Maori and colonial history.

      

    But hold! comes the cry – wildlife and scenery are all  very fine, but is not this blog to with The Theatre? Indeed it is, and yes NZ has a thriving live performance scene, with some terrific theatres to complement the shiny restored art-deco cinemas reflecting the country’s film renaissance. We were proudly shown Whanganui’s refurbished Edwardian opera house, and caught a spirited production  of  Shakespeare’s “Richard the Third” by the race-course at Auckland.

    This was in the “Pop-Up Globe” – no, not a toy cardboard whimsy, but a full-scale “temporary” building of sheet metal and scaffold, holding almost as many punters as its namesake on London’s Bankside. This structure started life in a car-park in the city, and now lives amongst the trees beside the race-track, where you can sip your pre-performance pinot-gris beneath portraits evoking the spirit of the Bard. After all, his and Richard Burbage’s own building was a mobile structure, by all accounts carried at night from Shoreditch to Southwark after a fall-out with their London ground-landlord.

    These wondrous memories have left no space this time for London or indeed for Hampshire, where currently I dwell in Austen-land. The next gap will be much shorter, I promise. I’ve just got to nip over to India, and from thence to Egypt – watch this space. To what did the second half of this entry’s title refer? Well chaps it’s personal. Like many  an ageing being, I sometimes have what are delicately termed “plumbing issues”. On returning from the Antipodes, I took myself into Charing Cross Hospital, where our beloved NHS folk introduced me to a brand-new treatment, which has proved wondrously helpful. And all it took was a kettle-full of steam, and a tap on the knee…

    Shepherd’s hut with snowdrops last week at Chawton House Hampshire

    Here’s the link about Andrew B:

    https://www.dropbox.com/s/9tq2jv2yjxwtpk1/ANDREW%20BURT%20draft%20obit%20%28amended%29.docx?dl=0

    Filed Under: Speeches, The Blog

    October 10th When Autumn leaves….

    10 October 2018 by Ellis Jones Leave a Comment

    There’s a remarkable image in the final scene of Florian Zeller’s play “The Father”:

    ANDRÉ:  I feel as if… I feel as if I’m losing all my leaves, one after another.

    WOMAN: Your leaves? What are you talking about?

    ANDRÉ:  The branches! And the wind… I don’t understand what’s happening any more…..

    For the opening night at Wyndham’s Theatre, Kirsty Oswald  – inspired by this scene – made a striking portrait of Ken Cranham as André, and gave all of us in the company copies. Now as the leaves in my garden turn and scatter over the reservoir, Kirsty’s picture keeps coming back into my mind, recalling a rich, lovely time working on an extraordinary play with a quite exceptional, special company. I hope she won’t mind my reproducing it here.

    A further prompt for these memories has been another fine play exploring the worrying territory of dementia, this time by the American writer Sharr White, who in his story shows the disintegrating world of a female scientist, ironically suffering the very condition into which she is conducting important research. The play is THE OTHER PLACE, and is currently at The Park Theatre in Finsbury Park, London. Skilfully directed by Claire van Kampen, the central role is given a powerful and disturbing performance by Karen Archer, who is also co-producer. The show is a collaboration between the Park Theatre and the Theatre by the Lake in Keswick, to which it migrates after the Finsbury Park run, which finishes on October 20th. (Links below)

    KAREN ARCHER is a remarkable talent, who tackles work and life with formidable energy.

    She joined Martin Wimbush and I in 2017 to help re-create a play about the first Duke of Wellington, a project Martin and I have wheeled out intermittently at various venues over several decades.  Its latest title is MISS WILSON’S WATERLOO, an unrolling of the Iron Duke’s adventures during a late-in-life  (mythical) encounter with the most notorious of his many mistresses, Harriette Wilson – a role tackled with some zest by Ms Archer.  We presented it initially at sea on board a private cruise ship between Amsterdam and Hamburg, and subsequently last April at the Le Colombier Theatre at Cordes-sur-Ciel in South-West France. Karen’s contributions to the project as a company member (and merciless script editor) were inspiring and revitalising  – bringing a splash of sophisticated glamour to our story, which went down wonderfully well with the (largely British ex-pat) audience in France.

    We were also made splendidly welcome by Donald Douglas and his Friends of English Theatre in this gorgeous corner of Europe, who provided generous – indeed lavish – accommodation and hospitality – and a well equipped, modern theatre with an efficient, supportive tech and admin team.

    If you’re minded to explore that region – rich with history and scenery – don’t fail to find Cordes and its theatre – again, link below.

     Production photos by JENNY CUNDY

    It did, I must say, seem a bit odd to take a play about the Duke of Wellington – in British history a famous conqueror of the French – to a theatre in France, but then most of our audience on this occasion were Brits, so there were no – at least audible – murmurs of dissent. I understand French historians regard the battle of Waterloo as a draw. I’m quite certain Michel Barnier does…

    I came across another largely French story this month – “Picasso’s Women”, produced by Colette Redgrave – a project I helped on its way a couple of years ago – at the Gallery Different in Percy St. It’s a good, thought-provoking glimpse into the love-life of a Great European Genius, and makes an ideal on-site show for an art gallery. Oh, and includes three excellent performances, including a welcome appearance as Fernande Olivier by the estimable Judith Paris. I gather the project is available to all gallery-owners across Europe and beyond – link below.

    What a cross you must bear as the offspring of a legend! No I’m not talking about Cressida Wyn Jones, who copes admirably, but about Finty Williams, actor daughter of two other actors, one of whom is our profession’s most revered icon, Dame Judi Dench! Finty has taken on one of her mother’s celebrated roles from the early 90s – Barbara in Hugh Whitemore’s terrific real-life espionage story PACK OF LIES – at the Menier Chocolate Factory in Southwark – and succeeds wonderfully. It’s a brittle, sweet and heart-breaking performance in a spot-on, crisp period production by Hannah Chissick, and is not to be missed.

    Tracy-Ann Oberman, Finty Williams, Macy Nyman Picture: Evening Standard

    I love the play – I directed it at Keswick not long after its West End run, with Debbie Farrington as the daughter, who had played the part in London. Michael Williams, Finty’s dad, who had co-starred with Dame Judi came to see our production. The play concerns the Kroger spy case of the early 60s, and has many a resonance of the recent dark dealings in Salisbury and elsewhere. Michael talked about meeting the original M15 officer who dealt with the case, and who is the basis for the narrator character in the play. Apparently the MI5 man came to the first night, and when asked to comment afterwards he  bristled slightly and then  – inevitably – simply murmured “Pack of lies….”

    LINKS:

    THE OTHER PLACE   London: https://www.parktheatre.co.uk/whats-on/the-other-place

    Keswick: https://www.theatrebythelake.com/production/17974/The-Other-Place

    FRIENDS OF ENGLISH THEATRE, CORDES sur CIEL: https://www.fetatlecolombier.com/aboutus

    PICASSO’S WOMEN: http://www.picassos-women.co.uk/

    PACK OF LIES: https://www.menierchocolatefactory.com/Online/default.asp?doWork::WScontent::loadArticle=Load&BOparam::WScontent::loadArticle::article_id=47B366FF-3E61-4888-98FD-DF46E2052134&sessionlanguage=&SessionSecurity::linkName=

    P.S. You may wonder why Martin Wimbush and I have so often trotted out a play about the Duke of Wellington over such a long period.  So do we, sometimes. I suppose the pictures below may be clue. As they say in Private Eye, could they by chance be related?

    Martin Wimbush                                                                                       Duke of Wellington

    Don’t forget you can offer comments, further information or even digital advice – e.g. how to make the Private Eye gag work on a phone as well as on a computer? 

    Just scroll back to the top of this page and click on “Leave a Comment.”

    Filed Under: The Blog

    September 2018 Who wants to be a star?

    17 September 2018 by Ellis Jones Leave a Comment

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

    (Those, by the way, are ducks becalmed in what should be the restless millstream at the Walthamstow Copper Mill. But it’s been dammed, and now looks more like a field than a stream!)

    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

    Filed Under: The Blog

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