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?:
I think the meal at Le Caprice was my parents’ idea – to celebrate my qualification as a Chartered Accountant along with Uncle Michael, Auntie Pam, Stanley Bloom and his good lady (Sharit?).
Le Caprice was a trendy place even then – I’m not quite sure what would have made mum and dad choose it. Perhaps to show off a bit. Perhaps because they had heard that it was a restaurant that was able to cope with fussy eaters…we had at least one in our party that day in Auntie Pam.
Roll the clock forward 30 years and I note that Kim likes that place, perhaps for similar “trendy but able to cope with a fussy eater” reasons.
I don’t believe any photos were taken that evening to mark the occasion – such meals were not seen to be the thing of photos necessarily back then. But it is just possible that I’ll stumble across some pictures when I delve into dad’s “late works” box of negatives and prints, which still awaits my trawl.
“Kates” means Kate (Susan) Fricker’s place. I’m pretty sure Kate was, at that time, living in a pied-à-terre flat in Hampstead, part of the house that had been the family home before her family moved to York.
Evenings with Kate were always pleasant. We both enjoyed cooking and eating good food. We both liked decent wine and we would always have interesting conversations. I’m sure that Saturday evening would have been such an evening.
I’m guessing that we would have both been in celebratory mode, work-wise, at that time – Kate was called to the bar around the time I qualified.
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:
I led a pretty lively existence between passing my accountancy finals and starting the next major chapter of my life, but this particular week was surprisingly quiet – at least as far as my diary is concerned.
I remember the function at Chartered Accountants’ Hall quite well, writing some 30 years later. I didn’t feel a strong sense of affinity or identity with that group, nor did I feel that I had achieved all that much in qualifying, other than a stepping stone to bigger and better things. Whereas some of the people I chatted to at the function seemed to be in thrall to their achievement and to the physical symbols of the profession…which I suppose was the main purpose of the function.
My meeting with Brian Fraiman on 2 April would have been in his capacity as client and mine as professional; I was doing a small assignment for his legal firm, Fremont, at that time. Our subsequent engagements have all been the other way around.
I do not recall the Enterprise Forum evening at all. It won’t be anything to do with the modern Tory Party Enterprise Forum thingie, which didn’t even exist back then. Goodness knows what this 1980s Enterprise Forum even was.
I used to visit Grandma Jenny after work fairly regularly – probably not noted in the diary every time – but these particular weeks I made more notes than usual and my Thursday visit gets a mention.
I’ll write more about her on a more appropriate occasion than simply one of my after work visits towards the end of her life. She was lovely.
Grandma Jenny no doubt gave me some chicken soup from a tin and at that time was possibly still able to make something substantial for me to eat, although she was going blind. I probably helped her to wade through her post, which was mostly requests for charity which she could ill afford but which she acquiesced to if the ask was right; about half of the requests.
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.
Everyone remembers their first time and I was lucky enough to have my first experience with the wonderful actress, Lindsay Duncan.
Seeing Hedda Gabler, I’m talking about – what did you think I meant?
This was another midweek theatre visit with Bobbie, during that brief period of a few months when I was between qualifying and moving on to my next, fully-fledged career.
I rated this experience as “very good” in my log and why not? Lindsay Duncan as Hedda, Jonathan Coy as Tesman, Dermot Crowley as Lovborg…
Most unusually, I have been to see this play with Janie on (at the time of writing) three further occasions. I guess that Lindsay Duncan as Hedda is a bit like a highly addictive drug – you keep chasing that first high, hoping to experience it again. In truth, it did take us a while to land a really good production; the one at the Almeida in 2005 – all to be written up in future Ogblogs.
But back in October 1988, I was already a bit of an Ibsen fan and for sure was really taken with this production. Trevor Nunn had a hand in it, apparently…
..who’d have thought, back then in 1988, that I’d end up meeting Trevor Nunn socially a few years later? Another matter for another Ogblog piece.
At the time of writing, strangely, I have recently seen Alun Armstrong again, I think for the first time in those 30 years, in The Cane at the Royal Court:
This might have been my first sight of Tony Sher performing live and it was, I think, my first ever visit to the Almeida Theatre. Those things were oft-repeated after this night.
I don’t think I have ever seen Estelle Kohler perform since, but I recall thinking that her performance, as well as Tony Sher’s, was acting from the very top drawer.
But then what did I know? Or indeed what do I know? Except that, on Googling this production, it seems that both performers picked up Olivier Award nominations for their performances in this one that year – click here.
I saw this production with Bobbie midweek – on a Tuesday – whatever next?
I wonder whether Ivan Shakespeare sold us the programme or ushered us to our seats – I didn’t know him back then, but I believe he was volunteering at the Almeida for many years before I met him through NewsRevue.
The production was actually an RSC thing – a brief exile from the Barbican at the Almeida.
This was a really memorable night at the theatre – more than 30 years later, I can still visualise the Johnny and Hester characters hollering at each other – I can still almost feel their pain.
Hmm – I really don’t remember this one. A midweek visit to the Hampstead Theatre with Bobbie. Nothing in the log other than a record of the fact that we went.
And the programme.
Most Mike Stott plays have more “on the record”/on-line than this one. I’m going to guess it didn’t do so well.
A grim -sounding Pennines story about a young man who strangles his wife a year or so after they married. He was more a comedy man, was Mike Stott, but perhaps this grim story turns to comedy.
I’m going to guess that we didn’t get a great deal out of this one. perhaps the diary will reveal more – e.g. why we went/whether or not we went with some other people that evening.
I rated this production very good. I think we benefited from seeing The Tempest in the intimate environment of the Cottesloe – certainly when compared with Cybeline at the Olivier.
Not sure what we did afterwards – the diary might have some info on that, which I shall add in the fullness of time if it does.