And so to Tilbury – echoes, on this Coronation weekend, of Glenda Jackson as the first Queen Elizabeth delivering her great speech to the Home Guard there in 1588. My friend Robin – who likes to get about – had booked to sail from thence to Russia yesterday afternoon, so I drove him down yesterday morning. Once he’d dropped off his bags at the ship, we explored the Fort, the existence of which I was only dimly aware, living as I do at the other extreme of Essex. It’s a terrific place to go and see, even if you’re not en route to the Baltic. Like so many lasting elements in our country’s life, it all goes back to Ann Boleyn. When bluff King Hal announced his intention to cast off the English church’s ties with Rome so he could organise a DIY divorce and marry Ann, there came rumblings of a likely invasion by the Pope’s supporters in mainland Europe. So Henry thought it prudent to set up defences to deter the French and Austrians from sailing warships up the Thames, and a fort with canons downstream at Tilbury seemed a good wheeze. Most of the present building was created by Charles 11. After the battle at Culloden closed down Bonnie Prince Charlie’s 1745 rebellion, hundreds of wretched Scots prisoners were locked up in the Tilbury fort before either being hanged or sent to be slaves in America. It was an army base throughout the Napoleonic wars (some of “Sharpe’s Rifles” was filmed there). It was a mustering station for poor buggers being sent off to the trenches in World War One, and in 1915 its guns shot down a London-bound Zeppelin. It remained an operational military facility right through till 1950, when it became an historic monument.
And three years after that, we gained a second Queen Elizabeth, and thousand of TV sets across the nation. Our family was one of the few who didn’t – as well as Peter Dimmock’s BBC camera crews shooting in black and white, there was a team filming in glorious 35mm Technicolor – so we saw it a few days later in the cinema. I’m pretty certain we went twice. Since then I’ve been a fan, and especially since my time in the management team of a royal charity,when dealings with “The Palace” were always impressive, effective and clearly very good value for us tax-payers.
After this brief cascade of history, a round-up of recent theatrical excursions.
My friend the distinguished designer Alexander McPherson took me along to see “Woyseck” at the Coliseum – robust and raw, brilliantly directed by Carrie Cracknell, who brought us Ibsen’s “A Doll’s House” at the Young Vic. There is thrilling solo singing, bold characterisation, and haunting, somewhat unsettling ensemble work.
With scenes including a Union-Jack-themed military funeral procession, there are hints in the production of the risks and realities of contemporary army life, brought home so hideously at Woolwich. At Teach Yourself Acting we’ve set up a new service helping people with professional speaking skills, and we were privileged recently to work with a serving army officer. Her calm, collected professionalism really made us think about our fellow citizens who choose to go into danger to protect our safety.
And then from the opera to the ballet. There’s been so much hype about Baz Luhrmann’s film of “The Great Gatsby” I was quite keen to see it in another medium, and over at Sadler’s Wells along came Northern Ballet’s version, co-directed by the company’s artistic director David Nixon and the lovely actor-director, Patricia Doyle. It’s a super, compact book and adapts well to dance theatre, although of course the storyline has to be pared right down to essentials. This fine adaptation, with the late Richard Rodney Bennett’s rich, jazz-based score looked terrific, with spot-on 1920’s upstate New York visuals created by Jerome Kaplan.
My final outing with this semester’s group of New York University undergrads took us to Shakespeare’s Globe at Bankside, fittingly to view the play many consider the Bard’s last complete work, “The Tempest”. It’s an honest-to-goodness, no-nonsense production by Jeremy Herrin, creating the opening shipwreck and all the subsequent magic with ropes, pulleys, thunder sheets, and some lovely paper “butterflies”. Plus some very tidy acting – an authoritative, avuncular Prospero from RogerAllam, and a sparkling Miranda from Jessie Buckley. (Oliver‘s loss being RADA’s – and now the Globe’s – very definite gain.)
And yet again, outstanding work from a grad from my days at the Academy, the splendid Jimmy Garnon, giving us a fully-formed Caliban, bursting with resentful, bitter anger – laced with heartbreaking, beautifully-delivered poetry.
Not I suppose surprisingly, the Globe under Patrick Dromgoole’s discerning direction is providing a platform for lots of RADA talent. Next on my list is the just-opened “Dream”, with Michelle Terry and a whole clutch of chums, and later in the month the wondrous Eve Best makes her directing debut with “Macbeth”. See you there.
My travels in theatre-land are taking me to some intriguing out-of-the-way venues. Last week I caught Jane Hayward giving a very pleasing performance as the self-important mayor in the Theatre Collection production of Durrenmatt’s “The Visit” in a crunchy venue off the Camden Rd called The Lord Stanley, and earlier this week went to Ye Old Rose and Crown in Walthamstow. This is a smashing, really lively pub at the heart of E17’s booming cultural scene, with all kinds of music, comedy and drama on offer. This time the theatre upstairs – a generous, atmospheric space – boasted something of a “coup” in the form of a musical re-working of Gaston Laroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” by Maury Yeston and Arthur Kopit. Full marks all round for persistence, originality, ingenuity and sheer zest!
As a bunch of trainers (my party included a RADA director and Chris Lane, the movement director from www.teachyourselfacting.com) we all agreed that this company had lots of musical talent, but – as so often these days – the movement element really needed help. Well if any of the R & C actors pick up on this, we’re here – just a click away…
And lastly…it’s June! Could this be summer….I wandered in the marshes to Springfield Park today, and yes, there was sun, there were flowers, and even cricket…
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