You always know for sure when you go
to see a play by the renowned Tennessee Williams that your withers are going to
be well and truly wrung. “Cat On A Hot Tin Roof” is no exception. Williams
emerges as a powerful and imaginative playwright during a time that spawned
several mighty American dramatists. Arthur Miller, Eugene O'Neill, Clifford
Odets and Thornton Wilder spring to mind. They produced rich fare during the 40s
and 50s.. Moreover, their plays have stood the test of time and, while still
being performed today will continue to be for long years to come.
The play takes place in the plantation mansion of Big Daddy, played by William
Gaunt, a mega successful landowner. We feel the torpid, steamy heat of the
Mississippi delta. The very mode of speech is languorous. A huge fan rotates
over the sumptuous bedroom where Brick (Ben Hull) and his wife Maggie (Lesley
Harcourt) play out their tortuous relationship. Lesley Harcourt holds the stage
for pretty well all of Act I She gives a vivid, colourful account of her
neuroses and insecurities ; while her husband , an injured sports star, switches
off completely and continually pours himself glass after glass of Bourbon.
It is Big Daddy’s birthday and the members of the family, all of whom live in
the house, are in party mood. Children rush past on the veranda, screaming with
excitement. Everyone is dressed to the nines in perfect replicas of fashions of
the 50s. Big Daddy has just come out of hospital where he has been falsely
informed that he does not have cancer. The rest of the family know that this is
untrue and that he does suffer from the disease.
William Gaunt gives an overwhelming performance portraying an odious tyrant,
enjoying complete dominance of his family. Everybody sucks up to him except his
son, Brick. In the big scene where Brick denies having an “unhealthy
relationship” with his friend, Skipper, Big Daddy deliberately stamps on Brick’s
broken leg as he lies on the floor. Brick retaliates by telling Big Daddy that
he really does have cancer. Raw emotion with an undercurrent of filial and
paternal dependency sweeps us along with Brick imbibing the Bourbon at the rate
of knots, waiting for the “click on my head” that triggers off a state of
elevated serenity.
Rosemary Leach gives a heartwarming performance as Big Mama who has spent years
and years being humiliated by Big Daddy. She valiantly rises above his cruelty
and concentrates on her children and grandchildren.
Richard Baron, the Director, should be proud of his cast and, I’m sure,
Tennessee Williams would be, too.
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Mel Smith has made a triumphant job
of adapting “An Hour & A Half
Late!” by Frenchmen Gerald Sibleyras and Jean Dell into cogent English. The
style puts one in mind of the very successful comedies by the American, Neil
Simon. This two-hander manages to convey, without a moment of ennui, the many
facets of life as it is lived through its middle period; namely, when a couple
have reached a stage where, with children gone and retirement looming, life
seems to have lost its meaning.
Peter, played my Mel Smith, accompanied by Linda (Belinda Lang) is supposed to
be going to an important party given by one of his associates. Linda, after much
fiddling about in the house, refuses to go. Peter tries his best to humour her
but with no success. She becomes nastier and nastier as she attempts to rile him
into some aggressive action. Eventually, she causes him to knock over his glass
of wine. This one action brings about a catastrophic chain of destruction where
they gleefully trash the whole room, hurling ornaments, books, china and glass
around; then running up to the little gallery above their living-room to launch
things at the poor chandelier which shatters all over the stage.
This act of mutual violence has the effect of drawing the couple together as if
they were conspirators in a plot against the outside world. There follows an
extremely funny sequence when they try to engender a scenario that will liven up
their love life. Peter enacts a cameo where, treading over squeaky floorboards,
he approaches Linda’s bedroom. They agree that hearing the squeaky floorboards
will trigger off feelings of passionate desire in Linda. This is followed by the
couple relaxing into a cosy embrace on the sofa. Finally, we see Linda
descending the stairs, dressed up to the nines. She obviously means to go with
Peter to the party, even an hour-and-a half late.
“What excuse shall we make?” asks Peter.
“That we have been having rampant sex” Linda replies.
I do think that two-handers make extremely hard work for the actors. You need
the stamina of an ox and the memory of an elephant. Mel and Belinda keep the
bubble in the air without once letting it burst. Both have an amazing grasp on
the piece and handle the pacy comedy with ease.
Director Tamara Harvey must have judged very carefully how much input should
come from her and how much from this super talented couple. Anyway, it worked!
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It is interesting to see how William Douglas
Home’s 1977 play “The Kingfisher” stands up today. Written as a gentle piece
with a dying fall to it and a straightforward theme it forms a refreshing
contrast to some of the more modern shows intent upon flinging trauma in your
face.
The trauma here is of a different kind. Cecil, an elderly bachelor
played by Francis Matthews, has yearned after Evelyn (Honor Blackman) for 50
years. In the absence of any declaration of love from him, however, she marries
a dedicated golfer, one Reggie. Returning one day after Reggie’s funeral she
decides to call Cecil. The resulting scenario provides much humour, some of it
caustic, and stirs the emotions as the couple pour out their heartfelt regrets
about having missed a lifetime of togetherness.
The nub of the play is whether Evelyn will now accept the offer of marriage
which had been put on hold for all those years. She plays hard to get, even so,
and Cecil, a selfish old bachelor, is driven to desperation as he tries to coax
his sweetheart into matrimony.
The peak of what should have been a highly romantic episode turns rapidly into
farce when Cecil lays down a rug beneath a tree by the river and invites Evelyn
to sit down and share it with him. All goes well until the chill night air
descends and they go indoors. Neither of them, however, has the necessary
agility to enable them to get to their feet! An unseemly struggle ensues where
highly comical postures are taken up. Eventually, Cecil with some difficulty
struggles up.
Evelyn on the other hand seems eternally stuck on the rug. Both shout for the stalwart butler, Hawkins (Michael Stroud) who appears, far from sober – he’s been imbibing the port – and he joins in the Herculean task of trying to pull her up. His exit, after successfully restoring dignity to Evelyn, is a masterpiece of rigid formality without him ever losing his balance or bumping into the furniture.
In fact, Michael Stroud gives a beautiful
performance, perfectly portraying the servant who, without betraying his rank,
has become the only true friend Cecil has ever had. The tetchy dialogue between
them reminds one of what a long marriage can turn into.. It becomes apparent
that both men harbour more affection for each other than they realise.
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The current quest to become a
‘celebrity’, for whatever ridiculous reason, is the theme of Guy Jones’ play,
“Marlon Brandon’s Corset! We see a television studio where Nick (Les Dennis),
author of a continuing hospital drama called “Healing Hands”, is struggling to
please the director and four of the cast by writing a story where they can all
be potential stars. At the same time, he is being hounded by a debt collector to
whom he owes £5,000. The director Alex , played by Mike McShane, who possesses a
king size ego, urges the players to show more ‘get-up-and-go’ in their
performances. All of them, however, are fixated with the idea that the audience
should consider itself very lucky to be able to see them on television.
This attitude exasperates Nick who devises a scheme to write a newspaper article
exposing the true shameful background of one of the leading players Will (Jeremy
Edwards) claiming that he’s a homosexual. The money from this article will
neatly pay off his debt. There follows an ugly scene with Will demanding the
original article and Nick refusing to hand it over. Will then attacks Nick with
a broken bottle and kills him.
At this point “Marlon Brando’s Corset” abruptly changes from being light comedy
to being seriously black comedy. Shades appear of the old 19thC Grand Guignol
play that used to feature murder, violence, rape – you name it.
The four players and the director decide to cut up Nick’s body, put the various
bits into a stout holdall and bury it. All this is done in the hope of keeping
their jobs. There’s a very funny episode leading up to this where Jack (Jim
Field Smith) attempts, very gingerly, to move the body which is propped up in a
chair. He timidly splays open the legs and places himself in between. But he
finds he cannot think how to lever the corpse up! Jim Field Smith is strong on
body language and gives a graphic performance throughout.
In Act II we see a flashback to Nick delivering a powerful homily to the
audience about the ‘cult of celebrity’ and how depressing he finds it. He
himself, he avows, has no desire to become famous. He just likes to get on with
his job without ever being recognised.
I suppose the title “Marlon Brando’s Corset” is symbolic of the fact that Brando
needed the “Corset” of adulation to make him believe in himself. Anyway, the
‘cult of celebrity’ is thoroughly examined and exposed in this play. My only
criticism is that some of the actors tended to shout aloud throughout their
performance.
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Shows presented by the Guildford School of Acting Conservatoire are always eagerly awaited by local audiences. The productions from their Musical Theatre Department are especially appreciated/ No other drama school in the country trains students of musical theatre to such a high standard. Their current production of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s 1943 hit, “Oklahoma!”, more than proves this statement.
I as very interested to see how this musical, with its powerfully nostalgic tunes and its setting in the newly staked territories of the Mid West of America, would affect today’s sophisticated audiences and their love of rock. The bottom line is that a good story remains a good story, with everyone wanting good to triumph over evil. A sprinkling of hempen homespun philosophy still does not go amiss; and the magic formula for music and lyrics devised by Rodgers & Hammerstein to this day has the capacity to enchant and transport.
Many who remember the original production that came to Drury Lane Theatre in 1947 associate the show with Howard Keel who played the cowboy, Curly. He had a voice as big as a house, a voice that swelled to fill the great theatre and carry everyone along with it. In this GSA production, however, we have a delightful variation of the theme by Glen Joseph who sings the opening show stopper “Oh What a Beautiful Morning…” in a refreshing, light baritone giving real meaning to every line. He is well partnered by Katy Day as Laurey, sassy and tuneful. And Chloe Brooks as the pathologically unfaithful Ado Annie carries all before her with her rendering of “I Cain’t Say No” and “All Er Nothin’”.
James Rowntree as her eventual fiancé, Will Parker, is a very gifted performer to my mind. He gives us a stunning dance sequence in Act I and shows a great talent for comedy throughout. Chris Nelson as the Persian commercial traveller, Ali Hakim, is most convincing as well as being very funny. In fact, Director Kenn Oldfield manages to extract more humour from the various characters than I remember in the original.
The number “Pore Jud Is Daid”, in which Curly tries to persuade wild man of the woods, Jud Fry, played by David Haydn, that he should go hang himself so as to get a wonderful funeral, has the audience in stitches and brings the house down.
The ensemble work is matchless. I am haunted by the opening of Act II when the company, silhouetted against a sunset with colourful party lanterns as glowing orbs and sparkling lights trailing across the scene, is galvanised into the action of the hoedown.
This show’s a tonic. I prescribe it for everyone.
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