My walk today took place in a hazy recall of an event that took place yesterday evening. My older daughter, Victoria, as my birthday present (I was 78 on Xmas Eve) took me to dinner followed by a visit to a cinema to watch a screening of a performance of a play direct from a London theatre,
presented by the National Theatre.
To quote their programme ‘National Theatre Live distributes world class theatre direct from stages across the United Kingdom to cinema screens around the world. Our live broadcasts and screenings have been seen by over 9.5 million people in 2,500 cinemas in 65 countries’. So we were in effect sitting to watch the play along with people across Europe and into e.g. India, the USA, most of Africa etc. We had attended similar events before but these occasions were to see acclaimed performances of plays by Shakespeare. Last night would be quite different as we were to see a 20th century play by a playwright called Noel Coward titled Present Laughter. And the lead role was to be taken by an actor whose career I have been following for some time called Andrew Scott.
I first became aware of him from an episode of a British tv series called Foyle’s War, shown in the UK between 2002 and 2008. It was shown by ITV, the major commercial channel in the UK and we failed to watch it at the time, predominantly because programmes shown on the channel are normally directed at the section of society that enjoys game shows, comedy and drama series that are written in a broader style, with plenty of childish jokes and these are, of course, made more tedious by the constant breaks for even more juvenile advertising. But, whilst visiting a friend Pauline saw an episode on one of the channels that recycles stuff and enjoyed it. So turned me on to it also and we slowly caught up with all 8 (!) series.
The premise was the conduct of ordinary policing in a small coastal town in south east England called Hastings in the face of all the complications caused by the second World War. And it took in such matters as Dunkirk, the Battle of Britain, the Blitz. But these momentous events took place in the background and each episode showed their effects on ordinary folk and their day-to-day life. Production standards were of the best, as was the acting, led by Mr Andrew Foyle, DCI Foyle played to near perfection by an actor called Michael Kitchin, who we have been watching intermittently over the years as he matured from a vibrant young man to a more considered, mature actor with an understated style, owing much of its reality to physical and facial subtleties.
I have appreciated and admired good acting for all of my adult life, both in the theatre and on film/tv. Almost the last wartime episode of Foyle’s War concerned a young man who accepted a death sentence for a crime he did not commit to cause disgrace to fall on his father, a respected member of the community, for reasons that I will not reveal in case you decide to find and watch the episode. It’s in series 6 and is called The Hide. When Pauline and I first watched it, we both agreed that the actor playing the young man, unknown to us, had been exceptional. Quiet, intense. Reminded me of Marlon Brando, for me THE screen actor, just ahead of Robert de Niro and Daniel Day - Lewis. We thereafter kept a close eye on anything he did and, of course, Lo and behold, he became Moriarty to Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock! By turns morose, intense, manic. Riveting! And then, for me joy of joys, it was announced that he would play Hamlet on the London stage.
Those of you with even a passing acquaintance with my likes and dislikes will know of my lifelong attachment to and love of Shakespeare. Since a school production of Hamlet which I saw on four consecutive nights when I was 15, I have been entranced by the Bard. I have all 37 of his plays in the authoritative edition in individual volumes, many performances on DVD. And an intimate knowledge of my favourite dozen, high on the list of which is Hamlet, surely the greatest ever portrait of a highly intelligent man pulled apart by life’s realities. My anticipation was great. But tickets were not cheap and made more costly by travel costs and likely other expenses. But my wife, who in no way shares my enthusiasm, pointed out that, of course, it was a once in a lifetime experience and I must go. So I did. And.
In 1988 I saw the then 28-year-old Mark Rylance play the Prince in Bath and despite all the performances I have seen since, on stage, on film, on tv, he remained in my memory as close to perfect. But Andrew stepped up to the plate and took his place in my regard at the top of the list. Hamlet is a tortured soul who reveals every side of his character in the course of the play but in addition Andrew made the words sound as though they had been generated in his own brain at that very minute rather than learned from the page, even in 'To be or not etc.' I came home to Bristol in a daze.
More recently he has turned up as the dishy vicar in series two of the scabrous but hilarious Fleabag and I was delighted to read the glowing reviews he received for his performance in Present Laughter. But I was unaware that the National intended doing the cinema thing with it until I opened an envelope on my birthday to find my ticket.
Few plays could be further from Hamlet than Present Laughter! (Incidently, Present Laughter itself is a quotation from Twelfth Night!). Set in the late 1930’s, it depicts a few days in the life of the successful and self-obsessed matinee idol Garry Essendine as he prepares for a touring commitment in Africa. Amid a series of events bordering on farce, Gary has to deal with women (and in this production, men) that want to seduce him, placate both his long-suffering secretary and his wife, cope with a crazed young playwright, and overcome his impending mid life crisis (since he has recently turned forty). The play almost prophesies the chaos of celebrity life today where Garry would find even more opportunities for the rollercoaster of emotions he expresses throughout the play which is a caricature of Coward’s life. Andrew moved across a spectrum from strident, slightly camp and overt gesturing to quiet contemplation of the shortness and ultimate lack of meaning to existence. (Essendine is an anagram of ‘neediness’.) It was a bravura performance that leaves me hungry for the next chapter in his career.
And all this followed my last birthday when my other daughter, Emma arose at 4 a m to telephone repeatedly until successfully obtaining tickets for me to see Sir Ian McKellan live at the Theatre Royal in Bath!
Whatever next? I’m kidding.