My client was hugely apologetic. The only way they could arrange the three days of meetings in Amsterdam required at a delicate stage of the project I was managing was to schedule a Thursday, Friday and then Monday. They realised that this would be inconvenient for me and of course they were happy to fly me backwards and forwards to London if I wanted to spend the weekend at home or they were happy to put me up and feed me at their expense for the duration, including the weekend.
Young, free and single in September 1989, I was delighted to go for the “stay in Amsterdam at their expense” option.
Please stay at the Kras on our corporate account if you are going to stay that long…
…they said. It would have been rude to say no. I usually stayed for my short stopovers at a more modest place, the Rembrandt Classic I think, preferring the less formal and low key atmosphere.
Once work was done on the Friday evening, the weekend was my own. I didn’t keep a log of this visit but I remember most of the things I did:
an Indonesian rijsttafel meal on the Friday evening. A rijsttafel for one is a bit of an oxymoron, but the restaurant came highly recommended by my Dutch clients, for good reason;
Van Gogh Museum;
Rijksmuseum;
Rembrandt House;
Concertgebouw on Saturday evening (see below);
Anne Frank House (on the Sunday if I remember correctly);
Lots of strolling around the canals, sitting in coffee bars (the proper posh ones that serve coffee and play classical music), reading my book and feeling terribly sophisticated. I’m sure Mozart Violin Concertos weren’t playing all the time in every coffee shop, but I do remember hearing them more than once. I have, ever since, associated those concertos with this weekend in Amsterdam.
Concertgebouw, 23 September 1989
I was thrilled to be able to score a good ticket at the Concertgebouw “on a whim”. I guess it is that much easier to be lucky and get a single ticket at short notice. I liked the look of the concert and was not disappointed.
I heard/saw the house band (Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra aka Koninklijt Concertgebouworkest) conducted by Wolfgang Sawallisch, with
Ludwig van Beethoven – Overture “Leonora” Op 72a
Richard Strauss – Horn Concerto No 2 in E Flat Major
I don’t recall much about this one and the diary is a mess for it. I suspect that the mention of Bobbie on the Friday and The Wonder on the Saturday ended up being one and the same evening. So I’m guessing that I saw this production with Bobbie on one of those evenings.
There’s the diary page for that week. If any of my friends can help me to unpick all of that, may I just thank you profoundly in advance.
The Wonder. To the extent that I remember it, I think the production and acting was very good but that we didn’t much like the play.
An interesting but now rarely performed playwright from the late Restoration/early Hanoverian period, I’m not sure that Susanna Centilivre‘s plays have dated well. But that’s not her fault. I don’t suppose she even faintly imagined The Wonder being revived in 1989 when she dedicated it to the new king, George I, in 1714.
The Escapade Theatre Company (confusingly not the company that now bears that name) was a group dedicated to reviving plays written by or mostly about women.
Anna Mazzotti played the female lead role Isabella, with great poise and confidence I recall. I managed to track her down in 2019 as someone who did/does many Italian language programmes for the BBC and theatre in Rome -still listing The Wonder on her theatrical cv. Strangely (as she only lists two), she also lists Dealing With Clair at the Orange Tree, which Janie and I saw when the Orange Tree revived it (recently at the time of writing):
The male lead, Don Felix, was played by a young Christopher Eccleston – possibly only his second professional gig. His cv is no longer talking about this one, but it does still mention, amongst many other things, Dr Who.
Any further intelligence on this one will need to come from others, e.g. Bobbie!…
…or Michael Billington! Good old Billy – he reviewed the production in The Guardian:
Another CBSO with Simon Rattle concert and another note in my diary wondering who joined me for this one. My prime suspect this time is Bobbie. For sure she was around again by then, as she had been away for most of August that year but for sure was back by the end of the month when we saw the Merchant Of Venice:
I saw this production of The Merchant Of Venice with Bobbie. I don’t think either of us was overly enamoured of it. I registered “quite good” in my log, which is faint praise from me.
There was a lot of hype about this production because Dustin Hoffman was playing Shylock. I recall that Bobbie’s friend May Lamb referred to that actor as “Dustbin Hoffman” – I must admit that I have never been able to process his name the same way since.
There were other good folk in this production; Geraldine James as Portia for a start. Michael Sibbery as Gratiano, Ian Lavender as Solanio, Leigh Lawson as Antonio, Peter-Hugo Daly as Launcelot Gobbo and many other good names. Peter Hall directed it.
Sometimes a collection of big names is not, in itself, enough.
Also, I have a feeling that this is not really a great play; that’s my opinion anyway. Technically it is a comedy in the Shakespeare canon, but well short of laughs for the modern audience, even by Shakespeare comedy standards.
Jilly is listed as having joined me for this one. Her work telephone number is strategically placed in my diary on the preceding day, so she might struggle to deny this one.
I’m not entirely sure why I chose it other than the fact that I was certainly into Richard Strauss and Sibelius at that time, so two pieces by those dudes that I hadn’t heard live before probably sealed the deal. It might have been Jilly saying “you’ve GOT to see this Heinz Holliger fellow”, as that was the sort of thing that Jilly would say.
John White loves a bit of existential angst, so what could be a better choice for a Saturday night out than Huis Clos? Mandy was up for it. Annalisa was up for it. Off we went to the Lyric Hammersmith – the small Studio theatre there.
The play is set in hell, which is said to be a hot place.
It really was o-t ‘ot that evening. Clammy August and naturally the air conditioning system in the Studio wasn’t working.
Here’s my database/diary note for this evening:
The air conditioning had broken down on one of the hottest days of the year. The Lyric gave us all free squash in the interval because it was so bad. It did make the play about hell truly multi-sensory. The line “it’s so hot in here” had the whole audience in stitches.
I seem to remember the Rose Bruford mob doing a decent job of Andorra although in truth I remember little about this production.
I’m sure I secretly felt that my school production was just as good if not better but would have been far too polite to say so…
…actually that’s nonsense. I probably secretly realised that our school production was properly “kids amateur” whereas the Rose Bruford production would have been close to professional quality.
The diary is silent about what we did afterwards – I suspect that some eating and drinking was involved, quite possibly with some of the cast.
No doubt about it – Bobbie joined me for this one. She was keen to see the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic under the auspices of the great Czech conductor Libor Pešek. I was keen to see how he would deal with one of my favourite works, Smetana’s Má Vlast.
Strangely, although the national papers promoted this concert widely in advance, none chose to review it by the looks of it. Typical.
Here’s one of the sea interludes performed by the very outfit we saw:
Here’s Stephen Hough with the BBC Symphony from the first night of the Proms 2013 with the Rachmaninov Paganini:
Here’s Libor Pesek and The Royal Liverpool mob playing their four movements of Ma Vlast in Libor Prom order:
Alternatively, if you want to hear that recording in full in Smetana sequence, I have made it available on this playlist – click here. Do not be put off if you see a seemingly erased link – you can hear it whether or not you have a YouTube Music account – you just get adverts of you don’t.
In truth I couldn’t bring to mind Skocná – Dance of the Comedians, but James Levine & the Vienna lot brought it all back to me:
I’m really not at all sure that Entry of the Gladiators belonged with this concert, but that’s what they did. The piece was originally written as a serious piece of military marching music, although how anyone with that moustache composing that piece expected to be taken seriously, even back then, I cannot imagine.
On reflection, I think the use of that piece as a second encore was a mistake. When Libor Pesek suggested that they play a second encore, one of the scouse musicians loudly expressed his discontent with the traditional local expletive, but unfortunately Pesek thought the fellow said:
…but for sure I got back to London in time to see this preview at the Cottesloe.
Bobbie might say, “more’s the pity”, as my log notes that Bobbie absolutely hated it. I merely found it long and hard to follow. That’s how I remember it and that is exactly what I wrote in my log.
Super cast – Tilda Swinton is always very watchable but does often do weird stuff. Also Aidan Gillen, latterly very well known indeed. David Bamber was in it too – thirty years on I tend to watch his son, Ethan, bowling for Middlesex instead.
The play is described as a dramatic poem in the English language text and/but it was basically a family drama.
I wrote the above piece on 14 February 2019, basically because it had been on my mind after writing up Music At Oxford a few days earlier. By strange coincidence, Bobbie Scully turned up at the Gresham Society Dinner that evening, as Iain Sutherland’s guest.
I mentioned the coincidence. Bobbie started to quiver with indignation:
I’d forgotten the name of that darned thing, but it was surely the very worst thing I have ever seen at the theatre…I think we walked out at half time…
…she said. Actually I don’t think we did walk out at half time. I’m sure I would have recorded that fact in my log whereas instead I recorded that the play was long and impenetrable.
I think we stuck it out tho the bitter end…
…I said. I also volunteered to dig deeper into the programme to see if there were in fact two halves.
Yes, there were two halves and they added up to a whopping three hours of hurt for Bobbie.
I’m not sure why we did stick it out. Perhaps I was still wet enough behind the ears to imagine t hat such a piece might yield in the second half all the answers it withheld in the first. I know not to do that now. Perhaps I was so tired and hungover from the joys of Oxford the night before I was reluctant to move on yet.
More likely, we had booked a late night eatery and jointly thought we might as well see the thing through rather than kick our heels somewhere.
Anyway, the whole experience clearly had a profound effect on Bobbie who was shaking with the trauma of recalling that evening and remembered it so well she even said…
…I seem to recall it was only on for a short run…
…which indeed it was.
Nearly 30 years on, Bobbie might wish to read the short essay from the programme too. The least I can do, upload the material, after all I put poor Bobbie through with regard to this play/production.
Postscript Two: Bobbie Chimes In With A Recovered Memory
An e-mail from Bobbie 24 hours after our encounter at the Gresham Society:
I was casting my mind back to that dreadful so-called play (it wasn’t, it was a string of tedious monologues) and had a recollection of being there after the interval in a (suddenly) half empty theatre. So I reckon that, although we did not leave at half time, about half the audience did.
And, indeed, I think that is why we stayed. We came out at the interval, intending to leave, but had pre-booked interval drinks to consume. As we did so, we watched more than half the audience exit the building. I think we went back out of sympathy/solidarity/courtesy towards the cast.
Does this ring any bells with you? Did we really watch the second half because we felt sorry for the actors? Personally, I can think of no other reason …
My response to Bobbie’s considered recollection was as follows:
Yes, we were young and foolish back then. We might well have stayed on for compassionate reasons. There’d be no such snowflake nonsense from this quarter these days. I do recall the second half seeming to drag to an even greater extent than the first half. I also remember an incredible sense of relief when the ordeal ended.
Postscript Three: Here’s a professional view…I don’t think Nicholas de Jongh in the Guardian exactly liked it either:
