at the Theatre Royal Haymarket
23.01.2016
Last bow for Samuel Foote, and his
biographer Ian Kelly, at the Haymarket. The final performance of
this Hampstead transfer, almost 240 years since the real Foote walked
out of the stage door of his Theatre Royal and into obscurity.
The play tells the crazy but
[largely] true story of a born entertainer, stand-up, impressionist,
true crime author, impresario, debtor, cross-dresser and friend of
the great and the good.
The foul-mouthed backstage
banter is amusingly re-created, with much to learn about the
evolution of stage performance. Macklin and Garrick play leading
roles, Peg Woffington – the first Polly Peachum – is wonderfully
done by Dervla Kirwan. And of course we see Foote himself, in a
splendid recreation by Simon Russell Beale. Outrageous
en travesti, of course, but also vulnerable, both at the moment of
his final defeat, and in the excruciating amputation that ends Act
One. Wit aplenty, but clever references
to the Bard – then, thanks largely to Garrick, undergoing a
resurgence. George III gets his Prince Hal moment at the end. Madness
recalls Lear, especially in the storm near the end. Jenny Galloway's
grumpy, bawdy
stage manager, has some Dresser-style reflections on being “the
wife in the wings”, scrubbing
gussets and making a
career out of the worst bits of marriage ...
But this is not just a back-stage
drama. We begin in “the charnel house of horrors” - anatomical
specimens. And there's politics and philosophy, psychology and
medecine. Benjamin Franklin speaks of the mind/brain problem; Foote
suffers Locke's phantom limb, and loses his inhibitions after the
accident – caused by a foolish royal wager – which also cost him
his left leg, and opened up a whole new theatrical genre.
This is a very funny slice of
history – directed with a sure hand but a light touch by Richard
Eyre, no less. With
wonderful
designs by Tim Hatley, and
beautifully judged performances by a brilliant ensemble.
Joseph Millson is a
superb David Garrick, and Kelly himself plays an impressive Prince
George, later George III – what! What!. And there's a lot to think
about, too – sending us to the book, also by Kelly, which preceded
the play. But I wish
I'd seen it in
Hampstead first. Because, marvellous though it was to see Foote back
in the Haymarket, though not on his own stage, the production did
sometimes struggle to fill Nash's
vast auditorium.
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