Up School
March
homo cuius corpus velut in cuneum tenuatur (Alastair Sooke)
New Labour. new Latin play: after a gap of 19 years, Jonathan Katz and Charles Low have revived one of Westminster's most distinctive traditions, with this excellent production up School of Terence's Adelphoe (as we have now learnt to spell it). Adelphi (as we used to spell it) was one of the traditional cycle of four plays put on in College Dormitory until the Second World War. It was performed in the presence of King George VI in 1937, and it was chosen for the School's Quatercentenary production in 1960; it was also the last play of the great Zinn era, in 1980. But it is not only these local associations that make it a particularly appropriate play to have chosen: this is Terence at his best, and Adelphoe is one of the masterpieces of the European comic tradition. It is subtle and humane, lively and funny; and its theme is one of perennial interest and importance, the question of the relationship between parents and their adolescent children and of the moral outcome of different approaches to it. In some respects, this was a return to the pre-war tradition: it was a College play, performed indoors, in modern costume, with a painted set. (Under Theo Zinn's direction, from 1954 to 1980, the play was performed in Yard, in modern dress, by Classicists from all the Houses.) There was even some organised applause of the one-liners in the opening scene (which added to the fun of the occasion without having the air of a familiar ritual), and a dual-language prologue by Jonathan Katz in which Daniel Pimlott realised the ambition of every true Westminster, in that he met Terence in person and even understood his Latin!
But the essential qualities of the Zinn productions were maintained: there was a proper emphasis on the delivery of the Latin, and the play was performed as drama, not as the recital of a venerable text. It is invidious to single out particular performances, but Thomas Wood as Demea deserves special mention for the way in which he increasingly came to dominate the action; Demea's triumph at the end of the play has long been seen as a problem, but in this production it seemed absolutely right. Of the other actors, for beauty of delivery I particularly admired Alastair Sooke as Micio, and Amelia Walker as Sostrata, and for vigour of both speech and performance David Reicher's entrance monologue as the outraged Geta could hardly have been bettered. Sinan Savaskan composed and directed some very effective music, mainly as interludes but occasionally accompanying the text.
There was a brief synopsis in English on the back page of the programme, supplemented by epigrammatic summaries of the action to come in English verse, recited by a succession of non-acting scholars at the beginning of each scene. These were an excellent idea, and it was as much as anything the recital of these summaries that conveyed the enthusiasm of College for the project. For this was indeed the impression given by the whole production - not surprisingly, since Adelphoe is such a wonderful play. The Latin Play offers a very special educational experience. Congratulations and thanks to the directors for reviving it; we all hope they will be able to ensure that the Play is preserved in the new millennium.
Peter Brown (QS 1958-1962) Fellow and Tutor in Classics, Trinity College, Oxford
My career as a Latin scholar was brief: I took up the language aged eleven, enjoyed the pursuits of Caecilius et al for a year, excelled in the end of year exam and then promptly gave it up in favour of German.
Thus, I approached the College Play with some trepidation. I had loved their run of Aristophanes’ comedy - but they were in (rather witty) translation. Chums in the Classics department assured me that I would be able to follow the action: the play was in bite-sized chunks each preceded by a synopsis. My mind, remembering College’s performance at House Singing, imagined dragged-up Fifth Formers holding placards like dolly-birds in some naff TV game show.
The opening lines threw me. Had I been given the power of understanding foreign tongues? No - this was English. But then, even Oliver McGregor’s Terence ex machina was vaguely intelligible to my ears (aided by Daniel Pimlott’s half translations). Perhaps this would be easy.
Then the hard work began as character after character disgorged streams of immaculate Latin (but then, it could have been complete nonsense as far as I was aware). The promised synopses - Abbey dress, thankfully - materialised: sadly, fast or quiet delivery too often made these slightly unintelligible in School’s unforgiving acoustic; but they were greeted rapturously by the rest of the Chorus, leaving me with the feeling that I had missed a punchline.
As for the performance of the main protagonists, Alastair Sooke and Thomas Wood gave impressive performances as the two fathers Micio and Demea. Both are consummate performers: their mien and expressions conveyed emotions and meaning which surmounted linguistic barriers. Ned Harrison and Alex Mackenzie were equally engaging as the pair of sons, Aeschinus and Ctesipho. As an irascible wide-boy slave dealer, Jonathan Goldsmith was demonstrative and delivered his part with passion. The girls, too, gave whole-hearted performances led by Amelia Walker as a (rather young looking) widow, Sostrata.
As ever with College productions, one is impressed not just by the quality of the star performers, but by the consistent excellence seen in supporting rôles. Here we were treated to Martin Malinowski’s cunning slave, Syrus (who was particularly convincing in his drunk scene); Thomas Baranga’s elder statesman, Hegio; and David Reicher’s ‘angry young man / slave’ Geta.
A final word of praise must go to those who contribute to each College Play: to Dale Inglis for the well designed sets, to Anne Tucker for imaginative and fitting costumes, to Sinan Savaskan for his haunting incidental music and, of course, to Jonathan Katz for bringing the whole House together to frame such a triumphant evening.
Damian Riddle
Up School
September
Olivia Tebbutt, Nick Clark, Daphne Harvey
When Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal rewrote Figaro as Der Rosenkavalier, Strauss produced music that collided Old Vienna with Bayreuth, and Hofmannsthal created a libretto that ditched the boring characters and spotlit the Mozartian pathos. So Cherubino and the Countess take centre-stage whilst Figaro himself gets the boot.
Apart from the incomprehensibility of the plot, the real problem with most Figaro productions is the eponymous hero. Too easily Figaro - despite his social ‘inferiority’ - can come across as smug, unfunny, and slightly cruel. This was not the case with Philip Needham’s production which managed to balance the humour with an appropriate dollop of sadness. All was bright on the forestage, where the Countess rouched her beehive at her shocking pink dressing table, but the jet black void of the mainstage loomed behind her. The japes at court could not warm the moral vacuum in which the funsters frolicked.
Musically, the orchestra responded zestfully to the energetic requirements of Guy Hopkins’ conducting. The woodwind was clear and accurate, cutting through the dancing strings. The comic pace was maintained throughout. Nick Clark must be awarded an accolade for his human and touching Figaro. His singing voice was delicate but this accentuated the nervy charisma of his portrayal. He could also be heard: throughout his diction was impeccable, so that one relished the recitatives, rather than relishing their absence. He was complemented by Anne-Marie Cunnold’s genuinely charming (and sexy) Susanna. Once again Philip Needham and Guy Hopkins managed to express Figaro’s love for his bride-to-be, avoiding the usual pitfalls of coyness and cutyness.
Sapna Jethwa’s Cherubino was hilarious. All wide-eyed innocence one minute, and suppressed lust the next. Max Grender-Jones’s Count was suitably chilly: although, at the end of the opera, he asks for forgiveness, it was hard to believe that this particular Count would remain particularly faithful. A cad to the core. Meera Kumar’s Countess was going to have to put up with a lot. As ever, the Countess almost stole the show. Meera sang both the Countess’s arias with a sufficient restraint, courting tears but embracing a more ennobling stoicism.
In all, this was an astonishing production. How on earth, after the exigencies of a School day, boys, girls, teachers and musicians are able to focus their minds and talents to give Mozart such vivid dramatic life, is beyond me. Once again it is all praise for both drama and music departments.
Gavin Griffiths
Drama Studio
September
Originally designed for radio, the read-through of this play was, not surprisingly, a great success. An unfamiliar image of an incestuous, sleepy Welsh village was vividly created from Thomas’s script and brought forth memorable and thoroughly believable Welsh accents. Narrated throughout (by Thomas Wood and Felicity Blunt), the audience gained a true insight into the diverse characters, jumping to and from significant and not so significant occasions in an attempt to depict village folk and gossip. The occasional soap-addict might have compared it to a mid-nineteenth century Ramsey Street or Albert Square, leaving one with an overwhelming longing to see the next stage in the saga.
Accents aside, the play posed several potential difficulties: the text is stark and moderately disconnected, and moreover it took place early in the School year and was ‘only’ a read-through. But the likes of Billings, Stevens, Burton-Hill (many of whom no doubt are now seriously considering a gap year shearing sheep on the Pembrokeshire coastline) put forward a comic and engaging performance, shot through with home truths and deep meaning. It also provided a forum to introduce two new Sixth Form thespians, Despina Tsatsas and Anna Theophilus.
A most impressive and memorable occasion, and a great start to the theatrical new year.
Addie Bottomley
Henry Newman
Up School
November
An Evening with Gary Lineker ignited the audience’s collective memory of that fateful day of 4 July 1990, when England lost to West Germany in the semi-final of the World Cup. In the play, unhappily married Monica (Fleur Kilburn-Toppin) and Bill (Maram Alkhadi) are on holiday in Majorca with Bill’s friend, the sexy Dan Hudson (Jasper Lillingston). Monica fantasises about a relationship with the God of football, Gary Lineker, to escape the horrible reality: her clothes stink of pickled onions due to a prank by Bill’s colleague Ian; she is married to a ‘sad w***er’ and is having an affair with Dan, a man who tells her, ‘Stoke City FC is the most important thing in my life’. In the company of the infuriating Ian (Sebastian Billings) and a mad German tourist rep Birgitta (Neda Eslamian), they watch the match and the drama unfolds both on and off the pitch. This was a superb production, which received a standing ovation from a packed house. Jasper and Maram were amazingly convincing in their unfamiliar rôles of emotionally inarticulate football fanatics, while Seb was hilarious as the ghastly, plumbing-obsessed Ian: ‘the boys done good.’
It was, however, a ‘game of two halves’ and Neda and Fleur ‘gave 110%’. Many in the audience identified with Fleur’s exasperation with men. She was the only intelligent character in the play, and beautifully covered a whole range of emotions, from resignation and frustration to final elation, while Neda’s energy and vivacity shone through her portrayal of a rather different Birgitta.
A very funny script, compelling individual performances, and inspired direction from David Hargreaves and Sebastian Billings, combined to deliver a very slick production indeed.
The audience’s verdict? ‘A right result for Hakluyt’s’.
Rachel Oakeshott
Drama Studio
November
Ayckbourn's play centres upon suburban discomfort, marital dissatisfaction and social deterioration. This was humorously and sensitively handled by an assured cast and production team in this year's Liddell's House Play. The performance was weighted with delightful characterisation and punctuated with a keen sense of delivery - comic or otherwise
Particularly impressive was the players' ability to interact as an ensemble whilst retaining very distinctive and entertaining individual character traits. This awareness helped instil real vibrancy and suited the small enclosed environment in which the play is based. This atmosphere was maintained throughout , allowing the audience to become really involved in the lives of the participants, in the suburban environment in which they dwell and suffocate.
Ultimately the play is about relationships between individuals who are having to cope with each other more than anything else. The performance very effectively portrayed this fact, the audience having to swallow the bittersweet pill of these lives. Frequently hilarious yet tinged with a bitter, regretful mood, the performance allowed Ayckbourn’s fire-loaded dialogue to be spoken at a comfortable and natural pace - neither allowing it to lapse into mundane chat nor constricting it with its own telling observations.
The play's underlying tension was brought to the fore by Doug Shaw's wonderfully platitudinous Colin , whose irritating nasal whine lent itself as much to Harry Enfield as it did your average misunderstood, misunderstanding simpleton. He was brilliantly complemented by Statten Roeg's nervously excited wheeler-dealer John (who pulled off the evening's most impressive, yet least lauded, feat of eating half a tray of sandwiches during the performance) and Nick Brough's confident and understated Paul. Their three female counterparts were similarly engaging. Jenny Steven's authoritative Diana was convincingly betrayed as the play's truly sensitive and delicate anchor, offset by Abi Conway - her acerbic disdain burning the others as only ice can - as Evelyn. Both of whom were sharply focused by Catherine Taylor's turn as Marge, a woman perpetually dominated by an absent husband whose illnesses and moaning provided a stark, intelligent dramatic contrast to Evelyn's infidelity with Paul, at the expense of her husband John and Paul's wife - Diana.
Produced with the dry wit one has come to associate with Richard Pyatt (‘Pyatt Productions presents...’) and proficiently directed, Absent Friends was the entertaining, often painfully realistic, production that the text itself promises. To my mind, when considered on its own, it’s a text that doesn't deliver. This made the production's success all the more laudable.
Daniel Franklin
Up School
January
David Summerscale staged a discreet return to Westminster when he directed this demanding play early in the New Year. The action of the play centres around one lost individual who has spent decades of his life in utter isolation, in a shed at the bottom of his family’s garden. Morbid, some might say, but it was this play that Mr Summerscale chose to take on tour to India, with his highly able cast of Alastair Sooke, Will Stevens, Tara Hacking, Tom Wood and Seb Billings.
At its showing up School, the multi-layered introspection of the action raised interest and respect among the audience - a rather scant audience at that, but the cast were too tentative to be fully effective, as though the morbidity of the theme had embarrassed them. From every account, Mr Summerscale’s patient direction had resolved these doubts in time for the tour, which proved both happy and triumphantly successful. Such a very English play in a very un-English environment proved to be an intriguing cultural experiment.
Drama Studio
January
If this production moved sometimes on imperfectly oiled wheels, that is only to be expected of a premier performance of a new play. The plot is centred on the great emergence of our hero, the thirty year recluse, Frank Taylor, a disciple of the cathode ray who, since birth, has never abandoned his television. However, various better influences - his long lost cousin James, and a former soap actress - are coaxing him into the open. But, after letting his health go unmonitored for thirty years, Frank suffers a heart attack and is admitted into hospital, sans television. It is here, when deprived of distraction, that Frank first begins to develop.
Given that we were seated in the Drama studio, the simple set and conversational dialogue were well suited to the play’s purpose. With one or two exceptions diction could be kept to a level just above that of normal speech, without any problems of reception. The set had little boast, and props were few and functional. If I have one quibble to make, the lighting, like the background Bond themes, lacked taut control. At the end of each scene the lights were dimmed in the hope that it would mask the black suited attendants shuffling things from bedroom to hospital.
Praise for the actors is well deserved. Lionel Laurent, who was Frank, captured, through his nonchalant tone, his abstention from the world. Kate Fowler and Tom Browne as Mr and Mrs Conway were the fount of most of the humour of this play, while Catherine Robinson skilfully presented a rôle which dealt with the confusion of identity.
Alexander Chevasco