Why are most people fascinated by ghost stories? Does this fascination stem from the residual desire in humans to be frightened?  Maybe the delight and satisfaction lie in feeling safe and protected while being regaled by horrors too grim to be imagined.  The ideal setting for listening to a ghost story is a cosy fireside with the wind whistling menacingly around the house.

Susan Hill in her novel has written a hauntingly spooky tale, which has been cleverly adapted for the stage by the late Stephen Mallatratt. "The Woman in Black" has now run for no less than seventeen years in the Fortune Theatre in London's West End.

Amazingly performed by only two actors the play tells of a young lawyer who sets off to sort out the complicated papers left by a reclusive woman who has died at home in her lovely mansion set among misty marshes in a remote corner of England.

With very little by way of visual aids Sean Baker and Ben Porter play several parts and, with the help of clever lighting designed by Tony Simpson, create a variety of scenes.

The plot builds up as lawyer Arthur Kipps (Sean Baker) sets off to take up residence in the forlorn countryseat where he intends to bring order to the numerous documents left by the deceased woman. In so doing he becomes aware that he is not alone.  He hears the sound of a rocking chair relentlessly churning away in the background. A locked door from which emits blood curdling screams when forced open shows Arthur the way to a child's beautifully kept room where he sees an empty rocking chair pitching to and fro.
The plot thickens when Arthur is assailed by the sounds and sensations of being involved in a horrific accident while riding in a pony and trap.

A very powerful atmosphere builds up as a floating mist is released on stage and realistic depictions of horse drawn vehicles and travel by steam train are made.All the ingredients for a classic thriller are in place.  Robin Herford's direction has caught the pace and the sense of isolation that enfolds "The Woman in Black".

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BORN IN THE GARDENS

    We always know we’re in for a many layered work when we settle down to watch a play by renowned Bristolian playwright, Peter Nichols.  The play – a comedy – begins with a familiar and, apparently, a normal scenario.  But then dark currents start to infiltrate the calm waters of every day life.

     Nichols manages to mix hilarity with tragedy- qualities not unfamiliar to each other.

     Stephanie Cole excels as Maud, recently widowed and now in her late seventies. She enjoys animated conversation with people on TV; and bizarre cocktails are lovingly prepared by her son Maurice.  The large, mock Tudor house where they live is in a decrepit state but this doesn’t worry mother and son.  Maurice has a set of drums in the middle of the drawing room where he plays them to accompany some old 78s played on a wind-up gramophone while Maud has rambling conversations with herself and the telly.

     The death of Maud’s husband brings two other children, Hedley and Queenie, onto the scene.  They have ideas of how their mother and brother could change their lives for the better.  On being told by Queenie that she’d be better off in a condominium or duplex Maud says she has no intention of living in a condom or Durex!

     Queenie is glamorous and lives in California but she has a closely guarded secret.  She and her twin brother, Maurice, have an incestuous relationship. He is reluctant to submit to her advances.  Nevertheless, it’s obvious he reciprocates her passion. Hedley is a successful politician: being a strictly conventional type he gets exasperated by, for example, his mother’s habit of letting the geyser explode every time she heats the bathwater.  The fact that she has allowed so-called “mites” to infest her hair and clothes is almost too much for Hedley to bear.

     “Born in the Gardens” is very cleverly put together, with the background of Maud and Maurice’s life being so painstakingly etched in.  Shopping provides plenty of interest.  Bulk buying of goods which could be of no possible use: and dashing out to the corner shop at the last minute just in case they run out of something, are regular occurrences but they’re content: they’ve got it right and they don’t ask for anything more. Eventually Hedley and Queenie depart and the old mood of gentle tranquillity returns

     Stephen Unwin directed in his own inimitable style.  He has masterminded the renowned English Touring Theatre for many years.  He is brilliant at digging deep into the text to find significant small happenings that paint a very clear picture for the audience.  He was well supported by his cast.  Miranda Foster made a very believable Queenie while Allan Corduner is convincing as the reclusive Maurice.  The elegant Simon Shepherd is well cast as Hedley – urbane, slightly duplicitous and enjoying an ego trip through life.

     Although he’s now 81 I like to think that Peter Nichols could still pull another play out of the hat to add to his immensely enjoyable repertoire.

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SEE HOW THRY RUN

Classic farce has its own rigid formula and, as long as the Director – in this case Ian Masters – sticks to this formula the play is likely to succeed.  Having said that, however, any actor will tell you that farce is fiendishly difficult to perform.  It is fatal to confuse farce with comedy, which has a much gentler pace and where the humour is derived from word play rather than frenetic action. Performing at such a frantic lick does not allow for a missed cue or a moment’s hesitation.  It is essential to keep the ball in the air; so to speak, if it’s dropped the whole performance loses momentum – a momentum almost impossible to retrieve.
 
     “See How They Run” by Philip King, observes all these rules and more. Although it was written, as well as being set, late in 1940 there is absolutely no sense of it having become dated.  The fact that farce works in any period is based on the quirkiness of human behaviour as represented by stereotyped characters who never stray from their typical reactions to certain situations.  Hence, vicars are solemn and pompous, maids are cheeky, policemen are ponderous, spinsters are sour and leading ladies are vacuous.
 
     I got the feeling with “See How They Run” that the cast were working closely as a team – the action was seamless. Plaudits must go to Helen Jackells for a gem of a performance as the vinegary spinster, Miss Skillon.  This actress possesses a truly amazing gift of being able to turn her body into a kind of boneless puppet.  Like a rag doll she flops around the stage getting her legs twisted into contorted shapes and stays the course in a state of paralytic inebriation.  I am sure she is too skilled a performer to let herself get hurt.  Nevertheless, it is difficult to believe that she won’t be covered in bruises by the time the curtain comes down!

There was the regulation chase with the vicar (Ian Swann) in his underpants and brandishing an iron bar along with three other men dressed as vicars who lumber through the vicarage drawing room before reappearing after having done a complete lap of the house.  The plot becomes more and more convoluted until you start to believe it can never be unscrambled.  As with all farce, however, the equilibrium is restored two minutes from the end!

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MORT

This year has seen several triumphant musical productions at the Yvonne Arnaud (YA) Theatre, all of them presented by young people under the age of twenty-one.

      The YA’s own Youth Theatre gave us a stunning version of Lionel Bart’s “Oliver” recently, followed closely by the Guildford School of Acting (GSA) with a matchless performance of Cole Porter’s “Anything Goes”. Now we can see a musical adaptation of Terry Pratchett’s novel, “Mort”, put on by Youth Music Theatre UK.  Jenifer Toksvig, well-known at the YA, wrote the lyrics which are well suited in mood to Dominic Haslam’s sometimes other worldly music.

We are cordially invited to Discworld, an alternative universe to the one we know.  Here we find Mort, a youth on the very brink of life, who becomes apprenticed to Death, the great reaper, whose towering figure in the shape of a huge skeleton dominates the stage whenever he appears.  His fruity voice bellows out in genial mode as he indoctrinates his pupil in the art of felling people with his gigantic scythe.  Once fallen these characters seem to feel surprisingly frisky which explains the amiable attitude with which the giant skeleton regards his job. This wholly realistic structure, ably manipulated by Daniel Hall in the guise of Death, enjoyed great freedom of movement, bursting into a jaunty dance routine and waving his arms to immense effect. It is such a clever and believable invention that, were I a theatre director, I would get a bit more mileage out of it by, for instance, using it in pantomime.

ANYTHING GOES

LONDON ASSURANCE

Can you bring to mind any picture painted by the 18th C artist, Thomas Rowlandson? He specialised in cartoons which made a humorous comment on the social scene. His characters were grossly exaggerated; and the situations they found themselves in reflected the often crazy customs of the day.

You may well wonder why I am talking about an artist when I am here to write a review of a play. The truth is that Dion Boucicault, who wrote “London Assurance” some fourteen years after Rowlandson died, produced a vivid enactment on stage of the grossly exaggerated characters portrayed in Rowlandson’s drawings. Billed as a comedy farce this romp of a play caricatures high society and its servants in a strong mannered way.  There is the requisite mistaken identity situation, the cunning and grasping trusted servants, the aging yet glamorous Dame with her absurdly dominating ways, and a quasi-innocent young girl tricked out in blonde satin with a blue satin sash.

Alan McMahon makes his mark playing a character named ”Cool”, valet to the wealthy Sir Harcourt Courtley (Gerard Murphy).  He gives a colourful performance throughout – his movements in particular are a joy to watch. As for Gerard Murphy – his entrance was a shock to the senses.  His head and his huge body were adorned with a monstrous wig and clothes which would have looked fine on someone six sizes smaller but lost any attempt at style by the gigantic bulging creature who was buttoned into them. His face was highly rouged and he looked mightily pleased with himself. The plot ducks and dives with predictable complications appearing at regular intervals.

Geraldine McNulty as Lady Gay Spanker is very funny, especially when she summons her husband played by Christopher Ryan to wait upon her. This splendid actor is a truly tiny man, hardly reaching the height of his wife’s waist. She crushes him in a careless embrace and releases him with equal abandon.  Dressed in full hunting rig, he brings with him a great sense of dignity that works very well in this comic scenario. I feel the players were presented with a hard task to make a success of  “London Assurance” because although it bounced along at a galloping pace there were periods of ennui among the audience.  The cast could not have done more. I think, though, that Monsieur Boucicault could have injected a little more action into his play.

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AND THEN THERE WERE NONE

People don’t write “whodunnit?” plays any more.  Perhaps that is because Agatha Christie made the genre indisputably her own.  Born in 1890 she continued during the 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s & 70s to write brain teasing novels, many of which were adapted for the stage. These novels were consummately cunning in their construction, inviting the reader to solve an intricate puzzle with the help usually of a Belgian private detective called Hercule Poirot; or even the most unlikely spinster, Miss Marple.

It says a lot for the lingering fascination of these works that they are still regularly shown on both TV and the stage. Indeed, the most famous play of them all, “The Mousetrap” has been running in the West End for over 50 years and has become a big tourist attraction. With “And Then There Were None” Agatha Christie has set up a hugely intriguing situation whereby 10 people, unknown to each other, find themselves holed up in a stunning, 1930s style mansion situated on an island, with no means of getting back to the mainland. A row of 10 figurines stands on the chimneypiece and, during the play, they disappear one by one as the various characters in the drama get bumped off. As with all her work you start trying to guess who this voracious murderer might be. You will have learned from previous plays of hers you’ve seen that it will probably turn out to be the most unlikely person.  But how do you come to any conclusion?

Sometimes I wish I’d read the play beforehand because it is so easy to miss a vital clue.  Agatha Christie, however, always plays fair with her audience in spite of the number of red herrings she throws into the drama. Producer Bill Kenwright founded the official Agatha Christie Theatre Company, which sends her shows out on the road with great success. The set for “And Then There Were None” depicts a magnificent 1920s interior of an awesome-looking house.  We are constantly aware of the sea as a backdrop; and the ensuing isolation and terror felt by the inmates.

I found it difficult to pick out any one performance, as it is essentially an ensemble play.  Great credit must go, however, to Gerald Harper for portraying the formidable Judge, Sir Lawrence Wargrave. His ponderous pronouncements in analysing this predicament smacked acutely of the Bench. Chloe Newsome, as the somewhat mysteriously self-confident young woman, Vera Claythorne, provides a constantly glamorous piece of eye candy.  But is there anything more to her, you wonder?  There is only one way to find the answer.  “And Then There Were None” runs until Saturday May 31st so you’ve still got time.

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DAISY PULLS IT OFF

In the present day to describe a person as a jolly “hockey sticks” type carries an element of derision.  It conjures up a hearty, gung-ho sort of female – a female totally lacking in sophistication.      Back in 1927, the year in which “Daisy Pulls It Off” is set, the game of hockey played a vital part in the comparatively new idea of educating girls in boarding schools. Possibly, such an attitude reflected the current devotion to the British Empire and England in particular. The idea of isolating an excitable group of teenagers and unmarried teachers in this way; and to channel their emotions in a totally wholesome manner, inevitably gave rise to a breed of “spiffing” girls who were shaped for life and, no doubt, never missed an Old Girls’ meeting.

The upshot of this situation was that a group of authors – all women – started to write books depicting vividly life in England’s boarding schools.  The books were avidly read – they still have something of a following.  Perhaps the best known of these writers was Angela Brazil who blazed a trail in 1906 with “The Fortunes of Phillipa”.  This book was written entirely from the girls’ viewpoint and contained plenty of rousing adventures.

As for making a workable play out of one of these stories I would have thought it almost impossible to appeal to a modern audience.  Nevertheless, playwright Denise Deegan has cleverly given us a faithful rendering of a 1920s school story, with special emphasis throughout on the wildly enthusiastic exclamations of the girl pupils.  One is drawn into the spiteful machinations of Sybil Burlington (Emily Bowker) who tries to destroy our heroine, Daisy Meredith, played by Carly Hillman.  The way Sybil sneers at Daisy for being an “elementary school” girl would, I’m sure, never be acceptable today.

The supporting cast includes Kim Hartman as the glamorous Headmistress on whom many of her pupils have a schoolgirl crush: Ben Roberts as Mr Scoblowski, the Russian music teacher: and Katie Evans as Miss Granville, the English teacher...  I’d like to say here that the music throughout the production is delightful, with a high standard of singing from the girls. Jonathan Morris and Ian Marston have certainly done a fine job as musical advisors.  Finally, Carole Shaw has designed the girls’ school uniforms to chime exactly with the much hated gym slips of the period which did nothing for the female form.  Perhaps that was the idea!

The company worked extremely well as an ensemble.  Ian Dickens has directed with skill and a keen sense of humour.

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THE ENGLISH GAME

The game of cricket, I believe, embraces every quirky aspect of English sporting behaviour.  It is quite understandable, therefore, to see why the rules to foreigners will always remain an unfathomable mystery.  Hence playwright Richard Bean has found a glorious scenario for his play about a polyglot mixture of amateur enthusiasts.

Unlike footballers, cricketers can stay active for a lot of their lives making teams a rich tapestry of old and extremely young players alike.

We are introduced to a south London team, drawn from many walks of life, loosely united by their lifelong devotion to cricket, “the English game”. First of all Len (Trevor Martin) aged 89 and very frail is installed by his son Will played by Robert East in a comfortable deckchair on the boundary. He enquires which of the two pairs of sunglasses he’s brought the old man wishes to use. “The Roy Orbisons” comes the answer.  Len still presents an elegant appearance in his immaculate white linen suit and spotless white cap.

Slowly we meet the rest of the team and a few ancillary characters. There are 16 actors in the play – all male.  In fact it is a very “blokey” play, opening as it does a window on men’s behaviour when alone and not being given the once over by the female sex. I think it’s clever of Richard Bean to manipulate so many parts and let each one emerge with clarity and individual characteristics.

The nearest we get to the game is with noises off and watching heads turn in unison when a cricket ball soars overhead.  Len and Will somehow form a lynchpin for the story along with Len’s 13-year-old grandson Ruben (Jamie Samuel).

 I would describe “the English game” as a slice of life since it just gives us an episode in the ongoing life of this cricket club.  No serious conflict builds up.  The feeling is of a hot, hazy summer afternoon, stretching endlessly, interrupted from time to time by various members going out to bat under the bright sun.  A tiny storm in a teacup blows up when Alan (Andrew Frame) brings along a spanking new scoreboard that he has made.  There are complaints that the numbers are not visible enough.  We see Alan’s dejected figure stomping off only to return when the problem has been resolved.

This play does not build to a climax; it rather meanders along at the same pace throughout.  It gives one the feeling of peeping through a changing-room window when not much is happening.  There is plenty of locker-room humour, however, as well as scope for the actors who all enjoy well-written parts.

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SPIES

Michael Frayn is a writer of novels and plays; and in “Spies” we have a play from one of his best selling books of that title, adapted by Daniel Jamieson.  The novel itself is written in the first person, a fact that presents a difficulty on stage.  This is overcome by using a narrator who follows the main character around – an eleven-year-old boy named Stephen – shadowing him as he relives an episode from his own childhood.

The continuous changes of background to this tale are achieved by an ingeniously constructed stage set involving apertures that open and shut to reveal, or sometimes to indicate, various scenarios. The play revolves around Stephen (Benjamin Warren) who becomes friends with Keith (John-Paul Macleod), a neighbour and almost as old. Keith has the mentality of a prison guard, even at his tender age.   We soon see why.  His father, Mr Hayward played by Christian Flint, is a complete control freak who invents cruel punishments for his son under the guise of jocular blandishments. Very sinister, this!

The fascinating twists the story takes lead us to believe that a game the two boys play about being spies is merely child’s play.  Things take a terrifying turn when Stephen accidentally witnesses the untimely death of an RAF officer who had deserted from his camp. The atmosphere pervading England in the 40s is cleverly evoked.  Mrs Hayward (Jordan Whyte), Keith’s mother, has the slightly prissy demeanour possessed by many women of that period.

Her voice, for example, reminds one of the actresses in J.Arthur Rank’s “Charm School” who generally spoke with an accent that would be smiled at today and regarded as unnecessarily “posh”. Even her movements, with her swinging walk and coy cocking of her head whenever she talks to the boys, speak of another age.  Her clothes and hair style have been carefully reproduced.  What’s more, she cleverly gives the impression throughout of someone who could be having a steamy affair.

I would love to know what gave Michael Frayn the idea for “Spies”.  Was it something to do with his early years, when children were permitted to roam with more freedom?  The scenes portrayed in the play are all so vivid that I very much doubt if they could all have been just imagined by the author.

The two boys, although played by grown men, managed to give the impression of being harum-scarum youngsters, racing around and hiding in their hedgerow retreat while being stalked by Barbara (Cerianne Roberts), a highly irritating little girl very much like Violet Elizabeth in Richmal Crompton’s “Just William”.

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THE CLEAN HOUSE

Who would have ever believed that the really happy and fulfilled female character of a contemporary play would owe her beautiful quality of life to the fact that she adores housework?  What a turnaround from recent decades when women as a rule put this kind of activity at the bottom of the list.

Sarah Ruhl’s bittersweet comedy takes us into the household of a successful doctor called Lane, played by Patricia Hodge. Married to an equally successful surgeon Charles (Oliver Cotton) she resides in totally white surroundings – the sofa, the carpet, the furniture and all her clothes are white, or off-white.  To keep everything spotlessly clean she employs Matilde (Natalia Tena), a girl in her twenties from Brazil.

This actress gives a powerfully haunting performance; and it is difficult to believe that she is not a native Portuguese-speaking Brazilian - the Dialect Coach, Majella Hurley, has done a marvellous job. Natalia brings a mournfulness to the part which compliments the fact that as Matilde she spends her whole time thinking up jokes. In fact, having studied humour at university in Brazil, she is trying to follow her parents’ example of non-stop joke telling. A clever little vignette shows the duo at a café table that slides tantalisingly across the back the stage.  The mention of housework, however, only serves to make the doctor very depressed.

Lane’s sister, Virginia (Joanna McCallum), on the other hand, simply loves any form of housework; and she and Matilde agree to swap places leaving the latter free to compose jokes. The whole comedy has an air of a sophisticated children’s story about it. Painted with very broad brush strokes this wacky story goes off at a tangent to involve Charles who has fallen in love with the extremely colourful Ana, portrayed by Eleanor Bron. In spite of the tricky situation Ana contrives to cast her spell over the other three women.  Having first found out she’s dying of cancer she moves in with them while the unfortunate Charles tramps around Alaska in search of a special tree he intends to bring back because of its medicinal properties.

All this in spite of first having to learn to fly a plane large enough to transport the said tree!  In the meantime, Matilde kills off Ana by relating one of her most recent jokes. Just as Ana expires in a paroxysm of mirth Charles staggers in carrying his tree.  Do you laugh? Or do you cry? Playwright Sarah Ruhl deserves top marks for originality. She truly possesses a unique style – rather in the manner of the Italian farceur, Dario Fo.

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A TRIP TO SCARBOROUGH

Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751-1816) had close associations with this part of the world having lived at the peak of his success as a writer in stately glamour at the country mansion, Polesden Lacey, near Dorking in Surrey.  Alan Ayckbourn, one of our most adventurous living playwrights, has fittingly chosen to adapt one of Sheridan’s plays, “A Trip to Scarborough” into a multi faceted comedy.

     I say “fittingly” because Ayckbourn has a permanent base in Scarborough, namely the Stephen Joseph Theatre, where he can (and does) experiment with a regular company and push the barriers out as far as new work is concerned. In this production Ayckbourn has chosen to use three time spans – 18^th C, the 1940s and the present day – to tell the story of all the eccentric people who have passed through a hotel in the seaside town of Scarborough.

     The play has been cleverly directed by the author/adaptor.  We are left in no doubt about which century we have slipped into, not only because of the costumes but by the way the various characters move and their mode of speech. We who think the manner in which people spoke in the 40s was the same as today will be jolted out of their minds when they hear characters exclaim, for instance, phrases such as “Wizard Prang!” – a much favoured expletive of RAF personnel in WWII. Likewise, 18^th C characters express themselves with suitably flowery language.  The present century assaults us with the stage being invaded by men with mobile ‘phones glued to their ears!

The cast of 15 cope valiantly while playing no less than 29 parts between them.  There are some amazingly quick changes.  I dread to think of the ensuing mayhem backstage!

     Outstanding performances come from Katie Foster-Barnes who plays three different but very lively young women: and Dominic Hecht and Adrian McLoughlin who appear as the manipulating hotel staff throughout, keeping all the balls in the air and acting as a useful link between scenes.

     I must mention Terence Booth who gives three very funny and convincing performances with amazing body language – his long legs in particular being employed to express a multiplicity of reactions.  His rendering in Act I of a Bond Street art dealer was spot on. (I should know: my father was one!); and his hilarious interpretation of Lord Foppington in the last Act, go a long way to show what a talented actor this seasoned player is.

     There are lots of laughs in the play that rolls along at a spanking pace which befits a hilarious romp such as this. Heaven knows how it was all achieved. Technically it must be one of the most complicated shows to stage.

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