David Hare plays have a tendency to irritate me, especially those plays that seem to come at moral and/or political issues with some preachy certainty – even if I agree with Hare’s position, which often I do.
I recall The Secret Rapture having enough moral dilemma and ambiguity about Thatcherism to keep the thought and concentration going throughout the play and for some time afterwards too.
They made a movie of this play a few years later…mostly different cast…
…I don’t really recognise the play I saw from this trailer at all:
In short, I remember thinking the play/production that we saw was very good. I went with Bobbie.
I’m not sure what we did afterwards; perhaps we ate out or perhaps I prepared some food for afterwards, as I was in the mode to do that in those early days at Clanricarde Gardens.
An after work visit to the theatre with Bobbie on a Wednesday evening. The Lyric Studio did really high quality fringe stuff back then. This cast included Adrian Dunbar, Dearbhla Molloy and Michelle Fairley would you believe?
This production was actually the Tricycle Theatre (or do I now have to say “Kiln” even when discussing productions gone by?) in exile at the Lyric Studio. Hence Nicholas Kent directing.
I don’t remember all that much about this play/production, other than it being pretty impressive for a small studio production and being very Northern Irish in tone and subject matter. The acting and directing was top notch.
This was at the old Hampstead Theatre – the portacabin-like place quite near the new Hampstead (i.e. also Swiss Cottage). The place had a proud tradition by 1989, not least in the matter of Mike Leigh plays.
What a fine cast – as always with Mike Leigh who seems to be a magnet for talent – including Timothy Spall, Saskia Reeves and Brid Brennan.
I do remember really liking this play/production. It was, in some ways, the sort of cheesy farce I tend not to like. But being Mike Leigh, it was sort-of an antidote to such farces, much as Noises Off by Michael Frayn is sort-of farce, sort-of antidote.
I went to see this one with Bobbie – I wonder whether or not she remembers much about it…
…or whether Bobbie remembers much about Jilly’s party at the latter’s Nether Street residence?
I think it was at this particular Jilly party that I had a long conversation with one of Jilly’s scientist friends about nuclear fusion technologies, which we reprised some 20-25 years later at a subsequent Jilly gathering.
Obviously I was better from my 48 hours of food poisoning by the Saturday. I’m pretty sure I went in to work on the Friday and then a full weekend of activities.
Now I have had written complaints from Jilly already about my handwriting, so the above page is only for artistic effect. Here is the entry for the Saturday:
Saturday 10 December: Driving lesson & Orpheus Descending With Jilly & Annalisa Party
There – that wasn’t so challenging, now, was it?
I remember really liking this play and production. What a fabulous cast.
They made a film based on that Peter Hall production with some (but not all) of the cast we saw in it. Here is the trailer for that movie – far more melodramatic looking than the stage production I remember, but still it should give you some idea:
For that particular evening, I’m sure that the original idea was that Bobbie would join me to see this play/production. But when she had to pull out for some reason, it made a great deal of sense for Jilly to act as sub, especially as we were both invited to Annalisa’s party and were given leave to be fashionably late arrivals.
In truth, I cannot remember specific details of this particular party at Annalisa’s place in Hinde Street, but her parties were always popular, always lavish in hospitality and always late nighters. At that time, just a couple of years after Annalisa had finished at Keele, I suspect it was a very Keeley crowd that night.
As the diary says, on the Sunday, I:
…went to G Jenny with Ma & Pa…
…the next day, quite probably a little tiredly and sore-headedly. But Grandma Jenny no doubt wanted to know all about my new flat and my new job, so I’ll guess that I was centre of attention that Sunday afternoon.
Saturday 3 December: Much sorting to do re flat – went to see Single Spies in eve – B came back to mine
My appointments diary informs me that my Zanussi washing machine was delivered to the flat that morning. I remember going for my first local shopping expedition after the machine arrived.
I am fairly sure that it was on that very first Saturday’s shopping spree that I found myself face-to-face with Van Morrison on the traffic island which divides the north from the south side of the Bayswater Road. We exchanged glances. I nodded, in as much of a “cool, nodding acquaintance” manner as I could muster.
I remember thinking that the Van encounter proved that I had really arrived in a hip, happening place – I was going to be rubbing shoulders with Van Morrison and people of that sort all the time from now on. Well, to some extent I suppose I have got to meet quite a lot of such media folk in the neighbourhood since, but that traffic island encounter with Van the Man was, sadly, a one-off. “No Van is an island”, I suppose.
Single Spies is actually two Alan Bennett plays: An Englishman Abroad and A Question Of Attribution. Both are about the Cambridge Spy Ring. The first of the two plays had been knocking around for a few years before this production – it is primarily about actress Coral Browne’s encounters with Guy Burgess. The second play was about Anthony Blunt’s role as art advisor to the Queen.
I thought the production (Single Spies, I mean, not Twelfth Night) was very good and said so in my notes. I’m pretty sure Bobbie liked the production too. I think we might have eaten at the National that evening – I can’t believe that I was geared up to cook yet at Clanricarde.
Sunday 4 December: Went to Pam & Michael’s in eve for dinner and bridge
I wonder who made the fourth for bridge that evening? It was before my irregular social group had emerged, so it wouldn’t have been Andrea on that occasion. I’ll guess it was a friend of Pam & Michael’s – perhaps one of the Setty/Gareh family or possibly it was Ralph Glasser. The diary is silent on such details – never mind.
I’ll have walked there and back, learning that Clanricarde Gardens to Pam & Michael’s place only takes around 15 minutes on foot. Cool.
Celebrated clinching the deal for the flat with Bobbie on the Friday evening, starting with an early evening visit to the National Theatre to see a platform talk about Kenneth Tynan. I think those Platform things were a new idea that autumn…an idea that is now more than 30 years old. Our first one had been Tony Sher some weeks earlier.
This Kenneth Tynan one was in the Cottesloe and was a really interesting, varied panel: Adrian Mitchell, Jonathan Miller, Edward Petherbridge, Kathleen Tynan and Irving Wardle.
As the diary says (if you can read it) we went on to the Archduke afterwards for dinner.
On the Saturday I collected the keys to Clanricarde Gardens and did some shopping. I remember spending more than a few bob in Tylers (which was up on Westbourne Grove back then) – I probably still have one or two of the items I bought that day – I’m pretty sure I am still on my first clothes horse, for example.
I also bought food for the Sunday, but the crowd that visited that day – John, Mandy, Ali Dabbs, Valerie and Bobbie would all have traipsed to Woodfield Avenue for that meal – I must have shlepped the grub from Notting Hill to Streatham Hill on the Saturday evening – the new flat was not yet fit for habitation.
What did I cook that day? Can’t remember. Bound to have been Chinese and/or South-East Asian food though…just possibly Southern Asian for that crowd. It would have been good, whatever it was, though I say so myself. I must have been knackered by the Sunday, though. What a week it had been.
This production started its life at the Cottesloe, then went on tour and then returned to the National at the Olivier. Bobbie and I caught it on its return.
I recall not much liking this play. We had seen a cast comprising mostly this ensemble perform The Tempest some months earlier, which I had loved. I think it was that experience that drew us to Cymbeline.
I also realised by then that I prefer smaller spaces than the Olivier – there was a comparatively impersonal feel to the Cymbeline and I remember wondering whether I would have liked it more in the Cottesloe.
Still, it was a fine production with an excellent cast. I wonder what Bobbie thought of it and/or recalls about it?
Below is Michael Billington’s Guardian review of Cymbeline:
This was my last week working for Newman Harris, I was doing exam marking for Financial Training college to make a few extra bucks and on the preceding Monday my parents went on holiday. How do I remember all that?:
What a super production this was. I remember being much taken with it, although, strangely, while I clearly recall seeing this with Bobbie, I did not recall Ashley joining us for this one. But the diary is clear:
I’m pretty sure this production was in the round and I remember feeling a sense of claustrophobia being so close to the action and the intense dilemmas and pain of the central characters.
This play, its morality and injustices came to my mind so many years later, in the late teenies, when the British gutter press started to brand anti-Brexit folk as “Enemies of the People”. Although I had seen a good production of the play subsequent to this 1988 production, it is Tom Wilkinson’s agonies, witnessed at close quarters so long ago, that sprang into my mind.
We three won’t simply have parted company at the doors of the Young Vic, that’s for sure. I’m guessing we might have taken a late meal at the Archduke or perhaps RSJs at that time. Anyone remember?
Postscript: Ashley Fletcher has chimed in to deny all involvement in this particular evening. The Ashley mention must have been Ashley Michaels, my (by then former) colleague from Newman Harris. I’ll pick Bobbie’s brain if/when I get the chance, but I suspect she’ll do that, “I can’t even remember what I did last week” routine.
Fortunately my subscription to the clippings service yields some retained memory – here is Michael ratcliffe’s Observer review:
Wow – this was a real experience in the theatre. Only a short piece – not even half an hour long – Bobbie and I will have both traipsed to the National after work, spending far more time traipsing than watching. But the memory of this piece lingers long in the memory.
I subsequently saw the piece again, in a double bill with Ashes To Ashes at the Royal Court, with Janie second time around. It is a very strong piece and no doubt can still shock and make the audience realise how bad regimes exert their power in part through the suppression and abuse of language.
What an honour to have seen the first production of this important, though short, piece of drama.
Billington on Secret Rapture Thu, Oct 6, 1988 – 25 · The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
Ratcliffe on Rapture Sun, Oct 9, 1988 – 43 · The Observer (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
