Oh boy was I excited ahead of this one. Janie and I don’t usually go to see plays when we have seen an excellent production before. But we are huge fans of Strindberg and this just seemed too good to miss.
Tom Littler, Director, pairing up again with Howard Brenton adapting a Strindberg play. We loved their version of The Dances of Death at The Gate
Despite the risk of over-expectation, Janie and I were wowed by this production of Creditors at the Orange Tree, which we saw on the day of the first preview.
Charles Dance, Nicholas Farrell and Geraldine James are such fine actors and professional folk all, we should not be surprised that their performances seemed as polished as one might expect deep into a run. Only the curtain call (if you can call it a curtain call in a curtain-free, in-the-round place like The Orange Tree) showed signs of under-preparation. At a first preview, that surely can be forgiven, or even awarded laughter and additional applause, which it was.
The evening started slightly oddly. We arrived at The Orange Tree early enough for a pre-show drink. The gentleman serving behind the bar, whom I did not recognise, looked up at us and said:
I’ve just been reading your blog.
When Janie expressed surprise, both at the fact that the gentleman recognised me and that he had been reading my blog, the gentleman said:
He’s got a very recognisable face. And there aren’t many people who blog about both The Orange Tree Theatre and Lord’s cricket.
We then all three had a brief chat about Middlesex cricket before parting company, in our case with our drinks.
I’d be less recognisable if someone stopped taking all those double-selfies
Returning to The Orange Tree’s production of Creditors, there is clearly something that really works when Howard Brenton adapts Strindberg plays and Tom Littler then directs them. Those two seem to “get” Strindberg, creating an atmosphere, setting the scenarios and pacing the text masterfully. In the hands of a fine acting trio such as Dance, Farrell and James, it is a gob-smackingly good 90 minutes or so of theatre.
Such a shame (for those without tickets) that the run has sold out, but there will be a filmed version of this production available for streaming in October and perhaps this production will get a transfer. This really is one of those productions that theatre lovers should have a chance to see. Janie and I feel hugely privileged to have got to see this production on its very first airing.
I have seen The Dance of Death before – indeed both parts – but this tight version by Howard Brenton, enabling both parts to pan out in one play, worked really well for me and for Janie too.
Superbly well acted – Michael Pennington and Linda Marlowe were sensational in the leading roles (my previous experience of Edgar and Alice was Alan Bates and Francis de la Tour, so I know my top notch Edgar and Alices).
Janie and I are both very partial to a bit of Strindberg.
Creditors is a top drawer Strindberg play and this was a top draw production of same at the Donmar.
I had seen a smaller scale production of this before – at The Gate back in the 1980s – I’ll review that too in the fullness of time. But this version of Creditors, in David Greig’s edgy hands, was even more gripping than I remembered the play.
My log says that we thought Easter “excellent” wheras I rated The Dance Of Death “superb”. Not sure whether one of those big adjectives trumps the other. We clearly very much enjoyed both plays/productions.
Katie Mitchell directed Easter and the cast was excellent. A young Lucy Whybrow picked up an Ian Charleson Award for her role as Eleanora in this production. Adrian Rawlins played Elis, Susan Brown played the mother and Philip Locke played the sinister Lindkvist.
My log says that we thought The Dance Of Death “superb” and why not? John Neville, Gemma Jones, Cheryl Fergison and Anthony O’Donnell makes for a seriosuly good cast.
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:
As a result, Petra and I set off from Keele for London a fair bit later than we had intended.
My personal diary entry skims over the details of this…
…but I remember the hair-raising aspects of this episode very clearly.
We took this trip in Petra’s car, as the idea was to have a Chinese meal in Soho’s Chinatown, see The Dance of Death at the Riverside Studios, and then return to Keele at night. That sort of round trip only makes sense in a car.
It also only really makes sense to do that sort of road trip if you allow plenty of time for the journeys and know your way around London by road. We were more than a little deficient in both of those regards.
Imagine the scene – Petra driving east along the Marylebone Road in Friday afternoon traffic, by which time we realised that we had not allowed enough time to eat before heading out to Hammersmith to see the play. I was trying to work out, by landmark and road sign, where we should turn off for Chinatown…or perhaps we now meant to turn off for Hammersmith…
…to be fair, my directions might have been less than perfect…to be equally fair, Petra’s knowledge of the road layout of the Marylebone Road must also have been less than perfect…
…but in truth, I couldn’t fathom then and certainly couldn’t fathom now how the next bit happened. We continued driving east along the Marylebone Road…on the wrong side of the dual carriageway.
I asked DeepAI to reimagine the scene for us. I did suggest that I should be depicted head down in the crash bracing position, but the technology wouldn’t depict that.
I think I adopted the crash bracing position. For sure I covered my eyes at least and no doubt expressed orally my terror. I vaguely remember Petra saying reassuring stuff like:
Don’t worry, don’t worry. It’ll be OK. I’ll get us out of this.
I think she must have manoeuvred across all of the lanes and turned right onto Judd Street, although how she managed to dodge all of the Friday rush hour traffic while doing that I can barely imagine.
I asked DeepAI at least to show me covering my eyes. Not much joy there. You’ll have to imagine the terrified gestures and sounds for yourselves. Still, thanks to DeepAI for the images
The irony of having diced with death ahead of going to see The Dance Of Death might have been wasted on me then, but it is not wasted on me now.
I also recall how bad the traffic was between Marylebone “Dice With Death” Road and The Riverside Hammersmith, such that we were cutting it fine ahead of seeing The Dance Of Death. But we did make it to the theatre in time and by gosh was it worth the trip and the trauma.
The Dance Of Death by August Strindberg, Riverside Studios
All we had forfeited was one day of Keele Festival week (and nearly our lives), but it transpires that the great Alan Bates gave up a Hollywood movie for the chance to play Edgar in this production. Here is a preview interview piece from The Standard:
I had long wanted to see some Strindberg, having read plenty of it at school and then more during my working summers, when I tended to read plays voraciously while commuting to work. The opportunity to see Alan Bates opposite Frances de la Tour in a Strindberg play, albeit one I hadn’t read at that time, had been enticing to say the least.
That last article reminds me that the production we saw was The Dance Of Death Parts One & Two, barely expurgated, so it ran for a bum-numbing four hours.
That’s FOUR HOURS on those excruciating seats they had in The Riverside Studios back then.
Still, my review of The Dance Of Death was a one-worder:
Excellent
Petra and I will have arrived in Chinatown around midnight, by which time the choice of eateries was limited to say the least – I suspect the choice was either Yung’s or the notoriously and relentlessly rude Wong Kei.
Yung’s in Wardour Street
Extravagantly, and wisely, I plugged for Yung’s, sparing us the indignities and lesser food of Wong Kei. Clearly I thought the meal at Yung’s was very nice as I described it as such in my diary.
I like the diary description “returned through the night” for the drive home, which was, as far as I can recall, relatively incident free.
So was it good manners or post traumatic stress related amnesia that made me miss out the details of the “driving the wrong way along the Marylebone Road” incident from my diary? It’s hard to recall my diary entry mindset, forty years on, although my memory of the incident remains very clear indeed.
