Caroline Baum in London
YOU'D be forgiven for believing the local gripes that there is an Aussie invasion of the West End this (northern) summer: Simon Burke towers, larger than life, as the patriarch of the Von Trapp clan, on a poster outside the Palladium for The Sound of Music. Rumour has it that he auditioned recently for a part in the London production of Priscilla, due to open in March 2009, as did Jason Donovan …
Meanwhile there are glowing reviews for The Female of the Species, a new play by Joanna Murray-Smith starring Eileen Atkins, about a famous feminist whose life is invaded by an unwelcome fan. Poor Germaine Greer, she’s already made it quite clear what she thinks of the film of Hippie Hippie Shake, Richard Neville’s memoir of the ’60s, and now she has to endure being portrayed on stage, albeit thinly disguised. She has denounced the play and its author as reactionary and refused to either read or see it, or to address the actors during the rehearsal period. The producers must be laughing all the way to the bank.
Andrew Upton’s rock’n’roll play Riflemind is due to open at the Trafalgar Studios in the West End on September 18, in the STC production directed by Philip Seymour Hoffman. (Upton also scored in London last year with his adaptation of Gorky’s The Philistines, at the National.) Riflemind will have a somewhat different cast in London: Jeremy Sims, Steve Rodgers and Susan Prior (pictured above in a photo by Brett Boardman) will be there; English actor John Hannah takes over Hugo Weaving’s role as the old rock hero and Paul Hilton also slots in.
Two (non-Australian) productions stand out from the otherwise fairly run-of-the-mill summer fare. One, The Pitmen Painters, by Lee Hall who wrote Billy Elliott, has ended its rave review run at the Cottesloe but will return in January, so make a note now to book if you’re heading to London in the New Year. The other, The Chalk Garden, will never travel. It’s a revival of a very dated work by Enid Bagnold that nevertheless appeals to those who can see past its mothball style to a pair of brilliant performances and the way it embodies the quintessential British melodrama. But because it’s at the Donmar, for a limited season, you’d have to be very lucky to get seats.
The Pitmen Painters is a delight from start to finish, and a revelation, telling the true story of a group of Newcastle miners who become artists under the guidance of an Adult Education teacher during the 1930s. Known as the Ashington Group, they eventually found fame and their lives were changed by their experiences in the art world, though they retain a strong sense of identity. Witty, sharp, and full of unexpected twists and turns, it is about union solidarity, class-consciousness, creativity, opportunity and aspiration. The production cleverly features the real paintings by the group in a series of projections and reproductions, whilst the originals are displayed in another part of the National Theatre. The Pitmen Painters is based on a biography of the group by respected art critic William Feaver. In Hall’s version, directed by Max Roberts, it narrowly avoids sentiment but manages nonetheless to be very moving.
Among the audience so far have been PM Gordon Brown, Neil Kinnock (former Labour leader), Richard Gere and Tracey Emin. An eclectic bunch, presumably drawn to the work by its impeccable credentials of engaging both the heart and the mind. This play will undoubtedly be snapped up for an Aussie production, where it would have the same guaranteed popular appeal as both Billy Elliott and The History Boys.
The Chalk Garden is the kind of play that is rarely seen on the menu these days – as unfashionable as an egg in aspic – and you wonder why anyone would bother to revive it, if it were not for the opportunity it presents for two actresses to really strut their stuff.
Director Michael Grandage, who is also the Donmar’s artistic director, is the man of the moment in the West End, and seems to have the Midas touch. Later this year he directs Kenneth Branagh in a new translation of Chekhov’s Ivanov and Derek Jacobi in Twelfth Night.
Meanwhile, it’s nice to see ageism sidelined, and the current West End trend towards movie star/celebrity casting overturned, for once. Here are two stage veterans of immense cred duelling it out blow by blow: Margaret Tyzack (who most recently toured here with Maggie Smith in the Alan Bennett double bill, while classic TV fans will remember her from the original BBC Forsyte Saga) as a formidable controlling grandmother and Penelope Wilton, auditioning for the post of governess ... with a dark secret.
The night I went, when the plot unfurled to reveal Wilton’s true identity, heavily signposted as it was, the audience (including Imelda Staunton, on Aussie screens right now in How About You) collectively gasped “Ohhh!” It was a measure of how totally bewitched they were by the characters, even if the situation is a little too clunky and obvious.
The play features some rather Wildean aphorisms and one-liners, of which my favourite is “One is never at one’s best through mahogany” – about an offstage moment of banging on a door.
