Yes, we saw it before it opened. Yes, it was very good.
Press night was early the following week.
I was always partial to a bit of Poliakoff, so this will have felt like a bit of a birthday treat, opening at that time of year.
In fact, we had been due to go to the Proms on my actual birthday that year, but “Proms 7:30” is scribbled out in my diary for the preceding Wednesday. Not sure what went wrong there – probably we simply failed to get tickets (Claudio Abbado & The Berlin Phil doing Brahms – very popular).
But I digress.
Stellar cast for this one – as was the way back then with Poliakoff at the National or the RSC: Douglas Hodge and Frances de la Tour the biggest names; Graham Crowden & Hermione Norris also standout performers. Here is the Theatricalia entry for this production.
What an amazing piece of theatre this was. The late great Mike Nichols, better known as a director of course, acted brilliantly, with Miranda Richardson and David de Keyser, all wonderful.
David Hare, better known as a playwright but also a talented director, did a grand job with the piece.
Wallace Shawn, perhaps better known as an actor than as a playwright, although also a very talented playwright, wrote it. Not his best known; indeed possibly not his best piece, but, an excellent play.
Despite all that role rotation, it came off superbly well for us.
Janie and I recognised the unmistakable back of Wallace Shawn’s head just in front of us that night. A few years later, we chatted with Wallace Shawn at the Almeida when he turned up to see Miranda Richardson in Aunt Dan and Lemon; he waxed lyrical about how wonderful he thinks she is, seemed genuinely self-effacing about his writing and genuinely delighted that we had been inspired to seek out his plays by seeing this piece and of course My Dinner With Andre, one of my favourite films ever.
My log and indeed my memory is unequivocal about this one:
Quite outstanding. One of the very, very best.
A rare visit to the theatre midweek, I’m guessing that our impending trip to Thailand & Vietnam restricted our choices of dates for this one. Such was our desire to see it, we booked a midweek evening to be sure of seeing the production.
Both Antony Sher and Deborah Warner were superb in their roles, as indeed was the whole supporting cast.
In truth, Stanley Spencer’s art is not really my bag, but his story is strange and peculiarly touching, certainly as told in this excellent play by Pam Gems.
Strangely, I cannot find a Guardian review for this one, but Michael Simons previewed it:
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 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.
Blinded Lyn Gardner Guardian 04 Sep 1996, Wed The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com
Blinded Coveney Observer 08 Sep 1996, Sun The Observer (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com
Blinded Paul Taylor Indy 05 Sep 1996, Thu The Independent (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com
