Having missed out on War Horse (didn’t fancy it even after the rave reviews) we thought the subject matter of this one might interest us more and is very much up Neil Bartlett’s street.
This interview with Neil Bartlett explains his side of it:
To some extent it worked; the story across the decades was engaging. But the puppets didn’t really work for us. While we can recognise the incredible skill involved, it seemed, to us, to detract from the drama.
Janie and I are partial to a bit of Eugene O’Neill; almost as partial as we are to Tennessee Williams. While this early play is not one of O’Neill’s great plays, like the Williams, it shows all the signs of an emerging great playwright and was a thoroughly enjoyable evening at the theatre.
A very strong cast and production from a regional source; the Royal & Derngate Northampton, did great service to both productions.
Janie and I are partial to a bit of Tennessee Williams. While this early play is not one of his great plays, it shows all the signs of an emerging great playwright and was a thoroughly enjoyable evening at the theatre.
A very strong cast and production from a regional source; the Royal & Derngate Northampton.
So there’s more to Uxbridge than the cricket ground.
Seriously, Janie and I both really liked this play. Simon Stephens is one of our favourite playwrights these days and this one worked really well in the Cottesloe for us.
The eponymous lead is a big part; Lesley Sharp is a correspondingly big part actress who was able to deliver big time on this play/production.
When reviewing the 2005 Ashes series, the great commentator, Richie Benaud, would relate tales from letters he had received from senior people, captains of industry even, describing hiding behind the sofa unable to watch the denouement of some of the tighter matches, such was the level of emotion invested in these incredible multiple-day sporting events that we call test matches in cricket.
The Edgbaston test, which several of us fortunate folk known as the Heavy Rollers experienced live in part, was such a match. While our live experience, which started so brilliantly for us the night before…
…was over as a live experience for us at stumps on Day Two, of course it continued for us as a television and radio experience for the next couple of days.
Before that, someone (often it was Nigel), will have helped me get at least part of the way, if not all the way, to Birmingham New Street for my train and I probably got to Janie’s place around 9:30/10:00 at night for a shower and then some deep sleep.
No doubt Janie and I played tennis in the morning, ahead of hunkering down with the radio and/or television for most of the Saturday.
It was a seesaw of a cricketing day if ever there was one. England looked to have surrendered their second innings for too little, then Australia similarly found it difficult to avoid frequent dismissals.
But Janie and I could not stay at home all day and watch cricket – we had tickets for a dinner and show at The Kings Head, Islington: Who’s The Daddy, a satirical farce. Not the sort of show that Janie would normally want to see, except that this show was largely about a larger than life journalist/editor named Boris Johnson and his affair with fellow Spectator journalist Petronella Wyatt. Without reaching to breach any professional confidences here, Janie had professional reasons (as well as idle curiosity) to see this show.
Janie and I set off for Islington quite early, with England in a good but not yet totally secure position. Michael Clarke & Shane Warne were at the crease together albeit seven down but accumulating runs. I think the only reason that the match was still going on at that hour was because England had taken the extra half hour to try and finish the match, but that idea didn’t seem to be working. I’m pretty sure Janie did the driving, thank goodness. We were listening intently. We parked up near the theatre and sat listening to the last couple of overs. Then Steve Harmison bowled THAT ball to remove Clarke on the stroke of stumps.
That Steve Harmison ball at the end of Day Three is at c22’30”.
Janie and I were in celebratory mode as we entered The Kings Head. Australia still more than 100 behind, just two wickets left…what could possibly go wrong?
No matter, we were in a great mood. England were on the verge of a vital win…
…or were they?
I’m pretty sure we played tennis again, early, on the Sunday morning. Then we hunkered down in the near-expectation that England would quickly take a couple of wickets and we could relax for the rest of the day.
It didn’t quite work out that way
I must say that I personally never got to the “hiding behind the sofa” stage, but there was a lot of oohing and aahing, that’s for sure. I started off watching in the living room, then migrated to the bedroom so I could put my feet up and await what I thought was the inevitable win…then I wasn’t so sure…then I starting to think it was an inevitable “yet again” loss on the way.
Janie kept insisting that it would all come good in the end, but once the lead had been reduced to 20-30 runs, she couldn’t sit still nor could she bear to watch.
By the time the England victory came, I was, by then, absolutely convinced that England were about to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
But in the end we celebrated, Janie reminding me that she had been insisting that it would come good for England all along. Yeh, right.
I had , in a moment of extreme lucidity disguised as madness, procured, the previous autumn, six tickets for Day Five of The Oval test, just in case England were able to take the 2005 Ashes series to the wire. I had kept very quiet about this purchase, just in case the social workers of The Children Society, on learning of this purchase, conspired with a couple of doctors and had me put away for gross insanity.
A coupe of hours after the Edgbaston victory, it felt like the right moment to fess up to this purchase. I called Chas, who was in one of those “trembling voiced Chas” states, but he did make some informed comments on the outcome of the match and immediately said yes to the idea of joining me and Daisy at Day Five of the Oval test, should the series come to that.
I told Chas that I intended to call Nigel next.
Chas told me that it might be best to leave it another couple of hours or more. “I called him a few minutes ago and he still could barely speak”, explained Chas.
Nigel in full flow
Nigel doesn’t lose his voice lightly.
I did speak with Nigel later that day, who was still somewhat of a quiver. It is a shame he wasn’t able to join us at the Oval, but still that Oval story will make for another excellent Ogblog piece, not least because it will be awash with Charles Bartlett’s colourful pictures.
I remember Janie spotting this one in a Tricycle brochure and suggesting that the subject matter – the Israeli/Palestinian dispute, looked interesting.
“Written and directed by Rebecca Wolman. Oh my goodness, Rebecca Wolman is an old friend of mine from BBYO,” I said…”when she was known as Marcia Wolman”.
That almost dampened Janie’s enthusiasm – not because she had anything against my old friends from BBYO, nor people who choose to change their forenames, but because Janie was on a “we ALWAYS run into people you know when we go to the theatre” kick at that time. That was far from the truth – just occasionally we would run into someone I know – but it was Janie’s perception and that’s what mattered.
Anyway, Janie’s enthusiasm for the subject matter won through, so we went…
…and yes, we did run into someone I knew at the theatre – Rebecca – somewhat predictably. It was really nice to see her after so many years.
We were also able to tell Rebecca, truthfully, that we really liked the play and production.
In fact Janie was, if anything, more enthusiastic about it than I was. Janie was particularly taken with the allegory about the garden. Janie has often referred to this play since, in positive terms, usually when criticising other less subtle plays about such delicate subjects.
But returning to The Garden Of Habustan – I think the piece deserved a wider audience (as indeed I feel about Returning To Haifa). Hows about someone out there having a go at reviving it?
I’ve never been a huge fan of Rattigan and I recall that this play/production didn’t really change my view.
On the Sunday, somewhat on a whim I seem to recall, the Mainelli’s invited us over to their place as they had several people already scheduled to visit and they wanted a butchers at my new motor.
My abiding memory of that visit was how cold it was that day, but the assembled throng (especially Rupert Stubbs) insisted that we remove the roof of the car and drive off demonstrating the open-toppedness of the thing.
Dall-e thinks we looked a bit like this
When we got home, while we were eating a camembert salad supper, Janie’s twin sister Philippa called to let us know the bad news that she had been diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer. That news dampened our mood considerably and turned our world upside down for quite a while.
My log says that we thought Easter “excellent” wheras I rated The Dance Of Death “superb”. Not sure whether one of those big adjectives trumps the other. We clearly very much enjoyed both plays/productions.
Katie Mitchell directed Easter and the cast was excellent. A young Lucy Whybrow picked up an Ian Charleson Award for her role as Eleanora in this production. Adrian Rawlins played Elis, Susan Brown played the mother and Philip Locke played the sinister Lindkvist.
