Again, we really wanted to like it. We had loved The Island when we saw the revival of that one. But Sizwe Banzi seemed an altogether lighter and more dated work. The play has some great lines and some excellent points to make, but didn’t move us as we felt it should.
Yes, we were glad to have seen it, but it was a bit like seeing a band of ageing rockers whom you wished you had seen “back in the day”. The point was back in the day.
I remember us both finding this piece about low-level BBC shenanigans interesting and enjoyable – despite a suicide forming the denouement (that is not a spoiler). I suspect, given subsequent events at the BBC, it would seem tame and much beside the point today.
I think I picked up the terms “cruel spectacles” and “waning powers”, both of which I use a fair bit, from this particular show.
Great cast, with Ben Chaplin, Paul Ritter, Bruce Alexander, Angela Thorne and Leo Bill really standing out.
Well directed by Richard Eyre and produced of course to RNT standards.
Janie and I are very keen on Frank McGuiness’s plays and this one is a good example of why that is so.
It sounds like the scenario for so many Irish plays – a family gathers to celebrate a birthday in a remote cottage in the West of Ireland…just take my word for it that this one is/was special.
Our first theatre visit of that year, to the tiny New End Theatre in Hampstead. Wicked difficult to park around there and I seem to recall a very cold, perhaps even slightly icy evening.
The evening was a bit of a “West Fest”, with roles not only for Benedick as writer but also second-cousin-by-marriage Prunella Scales and young Jerusha West performing.
I remember observing to Janie that Prunella Scales had seen me perform in front of far larger audiences than that of the New End. When I was in Alleyn’s School plays, the West Family (Tim, Prunella and Sam, the latter being two or three years below me at the school) would relentlessly turn up to watch. Those evenings must have been an enlightening experience for that theatrical family I am sure. But I digress.
Benedick’s play was actually a sequence of monologues. As such, I recall it lacked dramatic intensity and coherence as a single work, but the miniature stories were well written and were quite interesting performance pieces, especially Prunella’s one.
Janie and I were really taken with this play/production. On my log I gave it a one word review:
superb.
Peter Morgan writes these historical/biographical plays really well and Michael Sheen seems well fitted to the lead roles in them, be the role Tony Blair or David Frost.
Actually the whole cast was excellent, with especially memorable performances by Frank Langella, Kelly Shale, Lydia Leonard and Corey Johnson.
Michael Grandage was doing great work at the Donmar at that time.
There is a superb Donmar educational resource available for this production, now in the public domain but not well publicised, which I have scraped to here and/or the image link below:
Taken from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Frostnixonposter.png with the same attribution and for the same fair use reasons as stated on Wikipedia.
We saw the original Donmar run quite early in its life – perhaps even still in preview or just after the press night. The play/production was extremely well received, deservedly so. A link to reviews can be found here.
The piece transferred big time and also was made into a film. Janie and I were delighted to have seen the original production before the big fuss broke out.
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.
Some months earlier, Mike Ward had, over dinner on one of his visits to London, raised the idea of Casablanca The Musical with me. He was working on the book and wanted me to write some silly lyrics to well known songs with him.
…which (to be fair without my having provided much context) led Janie to wonder whether I had taken leave of my senses.
In the end, I wrote a few lyrics (now all Ogblogged, between the dates 27 July and 8 August 2001), including one jointly with David Seidel, who knew a lot more about 30s and 40s music than I did, although perhaps not quite as much about the sort of silly lyrics that might work in Mike’s show.
I took the brief quite seriously considering what a silly brief it was. I remember tracking down and reading the movie script as well as Mike’s musical book to help me remember the story and think through the bits that might lend themselves best to musical interludes. The joke in the programme notes about me not having seen the book until the very last minute is…a joke.
The production was scheduled at fairly short notice for mid-September 2001. I had arranged to speak at a charity conference in Sheffield on the Monday (17th), so it seemed sensible for me to press further into Yorkshire on the Tuesday and see the show that second night, which I did.
My charity accountants conference talk is long-since forgotten, I hope. I do recall it was a double-act with Mary O’Callaghan and I expect I charitably let Mary deliver all the best jokes. You’ll simply have to imagine what those side-splitting, uproarious gags might have been and how those charity accountants must have laughed and laughed…
…but I digress.
Actually I do remember that I met a very pleasant woman from Norwood Ravenswood who connected me to their archivist who was extremely helpful in providing information on the orphaned (Krasey) side of my mother’s family…
…but that is even more of a digression.
Point is, on the Tuesday, mid to late morning, I headed north-west from Sheffield and checked in to the Imperial Crown. Janie, who had been up to the Actor’s Workshop for the Pausanias Affair earlier that summer, was unable to cancel out her work for such a one-nighter, so I braved Halifax alone on that occasion.
I don’t recall all the details of the afternoon and evening. I have a feeling that it was quite similar to my solo quick turnaround visit to see the revival in 2018; I think I went to the theatre to meet Mike. There was a sense of excitement as the show had been well previewed locally so was all-but sold out.
I’m pretty sure that Mike and I then went back to his house, where Lottie no doubt served up some splendid grub and good wine. Then we went back to the theatre to see the show.
I do remember enjoying the show. I recall the second half seeming to tail off a little – perhaps due to the book (which Mike subsequently edited for the revival to good effect I think) – more likely it is just an exhausting show for the cast. I remember that there were several girls playing the role of Ilsa, for reasons that weren’t explained in the script – I suppose Mike had written too few parts for women and wanted to give several young females a chance.
I do also recall feeling that, first time round, Ouagadougou Choo Choo had not quite been the rousing finale I had intended. That number certainly worked better (to my taste) in 2018.
In those days, The Evening Courier reviewed stuff for the Actor’s Workshop and this piece/production got a pretty darned hot review:
I couldn’t help wondering at the time whether my songs, in particular, Ouagadougou Choo Choo, had actually brought the house down.
Joking apart though, this show was a gargantuan effort for a tiny charitable youth theatre. But that effort was dwarfed by the efforts it must have needed to bring the Workshop back from the almost-dead after that tragic incident.
Looking back, Mike Ward just shrugs and says he can’t remember and sort-of wonders how he/they did it.
But back in September 2001, all of that was the future, while Casablanca The Musical took a highly irreverent look back at the past.
Sandwiched between a short break at The White Swan in Pickering and the first Children’s Society v Tufty Stackpole cricket match, Janie and I spent an evening and night in Halifax seeing this show and then dining with Mike & Lottie Ward.
I had written the programme notes for Mike’s play – click here for said notes – and jolly good were the programme notes too…also the play, of course, also the play.
Actually I also wrote a review of the play/production, which I can reproduce in full below:
I thought this production was very good and an advance on The Elland Affair in several respects. The play itself was very interesting, with lots of character development and (almost too much) plot and intrigue. The casting and performances were good pretty much without exception. It was a most ambitious production in many respects and a great credit to cast and crew that they pulled it all off with such aplomb.
The programme notes were, once again, insurmountable and without question the highlight of the whole production!!?
Seriously, if I have any criticism of the play, it is too long and a little short on modern relevance. I know Mike Ward’s brain is already grappling with these issues for his next one. And I hope his next play arrives soon, because these Actors’ Workshop home-grown play/productions are getting stronger year on year and are a rare achievement in a small theatre such as The Actors’ Workshop.
All involved in this production should be commended and the people of Calderdale should be fighting now to get the hot tickets for the next home-grown production.
Not especially coincidentally, we saw The Elland Affair (Mike’s previous year’s piece) while on a tour which also included The White Swan in Pickering plus my first ever book signing:
Did the play still have what it takes, nearly 40 years on? Michael Billington certainly thought so. Janie wasn’t so sure – she’s never been convinced by Orton. I thought this one worked better than the revival of What the Butler Saw at the National, which I recall disappointed me, so I didn’t find it dated; but Tom Keatinge did.
But who cares – I’ve seen the play now and mum couldn’t stop me this time.
