Janie and I went threee times in a fortnight to see RNT Studio plays at the Cottesloe. This was the first of those three visits. It was a modern Liverpudlian play of the post-Thatcherism variety. We thought it was a very good play and really enjoyed (if that is the right word) this production.
Michael Church gave it a very good review in the Observer:
What a cast: Maggie Steed, Trevor Baxter, Caroline Quentin, Peter Wingfield, Stefan Bednarczyk, Marcello Magni. Joint directors Mike Alfreds and Neil Bartlett.
No wonder I was keen to see it.
Still, I don’t think Janie and I were wild about this one. I was fast learning that Janie doesn’t like classics as much as she likes modern pieces, nor does she like farce. Marivaux was never likely to float Janie’s boat.
Yet worse, from a “what Janie does and doesn’t like” point of view, this production had re-located the piece in the 1930’s, adding a Cowardesque flavour to it that didn’t go down well with the reviews that are currently ( as I write in 2019) on-line/clippable.
Despite that, the sheer weight of talent on show carried the day for us, as we both found the production entertaining and could not question its quality of production.
Below is Michael Billington’s review from the Guardian:
This is the third and final part of my 25th anniversary Ogblog trilogy on “how Janie and I got it together”. In case you missed the first two parts and are interested in reading them, here are links to the first two episodes:
So, the ossobuco supper gave me the perfect opportunity to phone Janie to thank her for her hospitality and ask her out.
As luck would have it, I was sitting on a pair of hot tickets, The Street Of Crocodiles at the Cottesloe Theatre. It was my habit back then to book up quite a few such productions a long way in advance, with Bobbie Scully in mind for first dips, but with an unwritten agreement with Bobbie that she couldn’t commit that far in advance and that I might need to find someone else to join me…
…anyway, I had these tickets for 29 August and they seemed an ideal way to reciprocate.
Janie seemed keen on the idea, so the date was set.
I also offered to cook Janie a pre-theatre meal, after first checking that she liked Chinese food.
I can’t remember exactly which dishes I went for, but I’ll guess I plugged for bankable favourites that were reasonably easy to prepare and which needed relatively little clearing up afterwards:
cha chieng lettuce wrap – probably using veal mince or a mix of veal and pork mince;
chicken and cashew nuts with yellow bean sauce;
I thought the second main dish was steak slices with onions, mushrooms and black bean sauce, but Janie reckons the second dish was prawns with ginger and spring onions and now I think she is right;
pak choi with oyster sauce;
steamed basmati rice.
No TripAdvisor review for the meal, but on reminding Janie about it just now, she has described it as “amazing”, so there you go.
But far more amazing than my meal was The Street Of Crocodiles. It really was a stunningly good show.
The play is based on the stories of Bruno Schulz, which (from what we can gather) were weird enough when written, but when given the Complicite treatment, they become a sensory overload of words, music and movement.
Janie had driven to my place and insisted on also driving to the National Theatre – the latter habit being one she rarely deviates from 25 years later.
The evening seemed to have gone splendidly well. Janie was very complimentary about my cooking and seemed very taken with the show.
When we got back to my place, I asked Janie if she wanted to come back upstairs to my flat.
She said no.
I asked her if she was absolutely sure.
Janie said that she was absolutely sure and drove off.
So that was that – although on this occasion I sensed that “no” meant “not this time” and that there would be plenty of other times.
I went to see this play with Bobbie Scully. I remember it very well; both of us were very taken with it. It did prove to be a big hit, transferring and being produced again many times.
This original production really was a cracker. I think it pretty much made Jane Horrocks’s name; I don’t think she was all that well known before – perhaps she was known on the TV. Pete Postlethwaite and Alison Steadman were terrific.
I’m not sure what we did for food, but we tended to go to The Archduke or possibly RSJs after the show in those days.
No on-line reviews from those days, so you’ll just have to take my word for it – it was a cracking show. I rated the evening very good in my log, that’s for sure. Several reviews on-line for subsequent versions refer to the 1992 production – click here for the search term that brings those up.
Better yet, below is Michael Billigton’s Guardian review:
I think they got their timing wrong having press night on 17 December… a rare Cottesloe opening that missed out on Michael Billington or indeed anyone from the Guardian. But in my view it was the critics who missed out on a very good production.
I don’t really remember much about this one, which suggests it was not so memorable an evening at the theatre.
Bobbie might remember it better, but I doubt it.
Excellent cast of National Theatre usual suspects. Ron Cook, Marion Bailey, Sally Rogers, Paul Moriarty, Peter Wight, Gillian Barge, Karl Johnson and many others. William Gaskill directed. The Theatricalia entry for this one can be found here.
Michael Coveney absolutely loved it in The Observer:
I do recall Bobbie telling me about her imaginary friend, some time before this production. But as far as I know that didn’t all go horribly wrong for her. I certainly don’t remember this production generating additional revelations from Bobbie.
I loved this wonderful monologue, written and performed by Wallace Shawn. At the time, in my log, I declared it to be:
Excellent.
Thirty years on, writing in late January 2021, I remember it vividly and now, in the time of Covid and dysfunctional politics, it seems so apposite and prescient.
This was the first time I saw Wallace Shawn and/or his work live. I had previously enjoyed his film work, not least My Dinner With Andre, so was thrilled to see him perform.
I saw this original, authoritative performance with Bobbie Scully. It was a National Theatre/Royal Court Theatre joint production. Why don’t they do this more often? Here is a link to the RNT archive record for it. It showed at The Royal Court Theatre Upstairs and at the Cottesloe – we caught it at the latter.
Strangely, the text of the piece is in the public domain – I assume by design – so if you want to read the draw-droppingly still-relevant piece, it can be read here. Or if that link ever fails, try this scrape here.
If you click through the 2009 piece to Michael Billington’s review of that production, he confesses to having been smitten with the piece the first time. That tells us that Michael Billington goes to see stuff at the theatre even when it isn’t his turn to write the review. Now THAT’s a theatre enthusiast! Nicholas de Jongh – you’re outvoted!
That was my verdict in my log and that is my recollection of this production, which I saw with Bobbie.
I also saw the Donmar production in 2003 with Janie. I preferred the 1991 version. Perhaps it was the version or perhaps I had outgrown the play a bit by 2003. Both were excellent productions. I shall write up the Donmar production in the fullness of time.
Meanwhile, in 1991, Alan Cumming played the lead and won the Best Comedy performance Olivier award that year for his trouble. Cumming was involved in the adaptation for the version performed, along with Tim Supple who directed it..
That visit to the theatre was part of a highly active weekend, by the looks of it.
I test drove a Honda in the morning before the play – this was presumably to ascertain whether it would make sense for me to take the souped-up automatic Honda Civic (which subsequently became known as “Red Noddy”) from the Binder Hamlyn car pool, in exchange for my less impressive Renault stick-shift. The answer was yes.
On the Sunday I had lunch with Jilly Black (location lost in the mists of time) and went to Pam & Michael’s place in the evening – possibly for bridge or possibly just supper.
It was my “get out of jail” weekend. Michael Durtnall (my chiropractor) had insisted that I “lock down” for a month to enable my back to start healing – otherwise he wouldn’t treat me. More on that elsewhere, but basically this weekend was the end of my confinement and boy did I make the most of it with Bridge on Friday, this theatre visit on Saturday and a wedding on the Sunday.
I am very keen on David Edgar so we (me & Bobbie) will have long before booked to see this just after press night. I was very pleased to have negotiated my way out of lockdown to see this.
All I wrote in my log is:
Very good. Neil Kinnock and his entourage were there the night we went.
At the time Neil Kinnock was leader of the opposition. I don’t know whether he and/or his entourage took notes during this paly, but it was a political drama to be sure.
It is set in an unspecified former communist country that resembles the former Czechoslovakia.
Excellent cast; Karl Johnson, Stratford Johns and Katrin Cartlidge standing out in my mind.
Observer May 1993 Cottesloe Sun, May 9, 1993 – 55 · The Observer (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
Billington Springboards May 1993 Tue, May 4, 1993 – 23 · The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
