This was a bit unfortunate for us, as we were there for a preview and Phil Daniels had just been forced to pull out of the leading role, so we saw the understudy (Andrew Frame I think, although we might have had a temporary understudy our night) reading from the script.
Even so, I don’t think this was really our type of play.
The Cottesloe had been laid out like the House of Commons, with the audience on both sides forming the back benches.
The play is basically about the chaotic era of the hung parliament in the mid-to-late 1970s; not least the scheming of the whips to try to get some semblance of business done in trying times.
At the time of writing (March 2018) this seems like a hark back to halcyon days, but in 2012 I think we were supposed to be thinking, “thank goodness our 2012 coalition is so much saner and more stable – politics is just more mature now, isn’t it?”
Below is the trailer:
There were some amusing lines, but it was all a bit obvious and of course, as the case with all dramatisation of historical events, there was no suspense for us in the “what happens next” department because we lived through it all as youngsters.
As a play, it all felt a bit “tell” rather than “show”.
I have a lot of time for John Graham as a playwright but this one didn’t really do the business for us and I don’t think it was just the unfortunate understudy business – we’ve seen enough theatre to be able to adjust and allow for that.
We saw Beth (from downstairs) and her dad across the political divide; I discovered afterwards that they got more out of it than we did…
We rather liked this one. It was about a model who advertises a fragrance getting embroiled in a scandal. The themes seemed very modern and relevant in 2012; a prescient play in many ways.
The plot was a little hard to swallow and Sam Walters’ orthodoxy for not shortening scripts made it drag a bit, especially the second half.
Still, it was well performed by some of the Orange tree regulars and we thought it had been a worthwhile visit.
I don’t normally go for adaptations of my favourite novels, but something told me this would be well worth seeing and also that Janie would like it. I was right on both counts. It was probably down to the fact that Simon Stephens was adapting it and also the stellar-looking cast and creatives boasted.
It was a fabulous evening of theatre. This adaptation deserved the plaudits it received in the press and the many transfers and re-runs that have followed.
From our point of view, this was a cracking night at the theatre. It was also darned close to the 20th anniversary of our very first date, in August 1992, which happened to be at the Cottesloe. There’s cute for you.
…this evening at the theatre seemed remarkably sedate and incident free.
We are fans of Joe Penhall’s writing – in particular we thought Blue/Orange was a cracking good play. This one, with a stellar cast at the Royal Court, sounded intriguing.
The conceit of the play is the idea that there is a new procedure that enables the man, rather than the woman, to carry a baby through pregnancy and birth.
Below you can see the trailer:
The idea does have lots of room for comedy, but in truth we found it rather obvious comedy and thought the piece was a little underwhelming.
It was well received by the audience our night, not least my friend John from the gym who was sitting near us.
This was an unusual visit to Richmond and the Orange Tree Theatre in many ways.
For a start, unusually, it was on a Friday. Following one or two “close shaves” after work on Friday evenings, Janie and I normally eschewed places like Richmond for theatre on a Friday.
But this was an interesting looking play on a short run, we had already arranged a theatre visit for the Saturday, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to take the afternoon off, visit mum at Nightingale that Friday afternoon and drive on to Richmond. Janie arranged to go to Richmond by cab and kindly volunteered to drive back to the house after dinner.
It was just before the start of the 2012 London Olympics and I recall that there were lots of “cops out and running about” in London at that time. I had a police escort almost all the way from Clapham to Richmond station – I was pretty sure that cop car had decided to follow me personally when it followed me, after the south circular, along my idiosyncratic route into Richmond.
I even recall mentioning the following to Janie when she got to the Orange Tree. We decided that the whole force was on visibility alert for the Olympics with not too much real policing to do.
Janie and I had dinner at Don Fernandos, then went and retrieved Nobby from the Richmond Station car park.
Janie, with Nobby, at his last resting place a couple of years later, not Richmond Station
Janie hadn’t driven Nobby for a while, so started out a bit slowly/cautiously, sensibly reacquainting herself with the feel of that car.
Very soon after we set off I realised that we were being followed by police again – a different car/pairing of officers. This police car pulled Janie over on the north side of Kew Bridge.
“Why have you stopped me?” asked Janie, wondering what she might have done wrong.
“You were driving suspiciously slowly and cautiously”, said the male officer.
“I don’t drive this car all that often,” said Janie, “so naturally I was being cautious at first…I am insured to drive this car”, said Janie.
“We know that, Miss…Wormlington?” said the female officer.
Janie was then questioned as to where we were coming from and going to, then the male officer asked her if she had been drinking.
“I had one small glass of wine with my food”, said Janie, which was absolutely true.
The policeman then breathalysed Janie, pursuing a line of statements and half-questions which indicated, to me, that he was pretty much “expecting” to see a positive test.
While we were waiting, Janie tried to break the ice with the two of them by telling them about the play we had just seen. The female officer seemed interested and relatively friendly, the male officer merely seemed to be preparing himself to read Janie her rights, explaining what the different indications on the breathalyser would mean.
After what seemed like ages, the male officer announced the result of the test; it indicated that Janie had some alcohol in her breath but it was below the warning line and some way below the legal limit.
The policeman couldn’t disguise his obvious disappointment as he announced the result. He then “warned” Janie to be careful on the rest of her way home, because, if she was in fact over the limit but had merely “got lucky” because of the timing of her test, she might get stopped again and might register a positive breathalyser test later.
Janie restated the fact that she had taken a little more than half a glass of wine with her dinner more than an hour ago.
I couldn’t resist asking the officer why he was warning her, if her breathalyser was below the warning line.
The male officer then explained to me, in very convoluted terms, that he wasn’t officially warning Janie, because her reading was below the official warning level, but he was informally warning her that if she was in fact over the limit she should nevertheless not drive.
It seemed to me, on that basis, that the lines between “over the limit – you’re nicked”, “warning zone – you are dangerously close to the limit” and “below the limit – be on your way” were…to that particular policeman…to say the least…mottled.
I was really keen to see this rarely-performed play, having absolutely loved reading it “back in the day”. Further, it was a cracking good cast, Josie Rourke directing – unquestionably one for us.
So we booked it, way in advance – as soon as tickets became available to members…
…for 2 June – which turned out to be the date of Charlotte and Chris’s wedding.
My bad? Janie’s bad? For both of us, presumably it was so obvious that the first weekend in June was the youngsters’ wedding weekend that we were both far too polite to book out the date in our diaries. I’ll write up the wedding in the fullness of time.
For The Physicists, of course, it was “impossible” for mere ordinary members like us to swap our tickets by the time we spotted our error…
…but it was not impossible for one of Janie’s high falutin’ clients who had some sort of corporate or “patron” membership to arrange a switcheroo for us. Thank you, anonymous high-falutin’ client – we were truly grateful to you – I’m sure Janie also found ways of thanking you gift-wise, foot-wise, etc.
With the benefit of hindsight, of course, perhaps we would have been better off without this one.
What a mess.
All style. All star-quality. No substance.
Perhaps it has dated badly. Perhaps it was adapted in a way that simply didn’t work for us.
The reviews were, deservedly, good but not great – click here for a search term link. As Woody Allen might have said, “it was a good play, not a great play…”
This was one of the first plays/productions we saw at the Hampstead Downstairs, which helped to cement our view that the small house down there is a happening space.
In truth, this particular piece did not really float our boat – we’ve seen rather a lot of Kafkaesque pieces about absurd bureaucracy, yet there was enough in this one to keep us motivated and wanting to come back for more.
