Only
the two-bar electric fire is visible in front of the tabs – the
rest of Bob Crowley's set [a remarkably ambitious touring version of
the original] is revealed in its dust-sheeted gloom as the curtain
rises.
This
affectionate satire is off on its nationwide tour – A Piece of
England on the road. With a largely new cast, but all the farce and
the barbed wit carefully preserved.
Sian
Phillips brings a studied elegance to the role of Dotty [Lady
Stacpole] – beautifully spoken, her lines timed to perfection, her
bone structure proof of her success as a model in her youth. A lovely
relationship with her Cinderella companion [Brigit Forsyth on
excellent comic form] as they gang up on the Archdeacon, the younger
sister, played by Selina Cadell, a welcome survivor from the South
Bank cast.
Their
crumbling Yorkshire stately home, perched on a pillar of coal, is
constantly invaded. Simon Bubb is the Bond Street barrow-boy, with
his iPad and his ox-blood shoes, who has plans to move the whole
place down to Wiltshire. Michael Thomas is the man from the National
Trust, fruitily enthusing about chamber pots and closet skeletons.
And Paul Moriaty, with a touch of Michael Winner is the porn producer
from Dotty's past. The nicest surprise, perhaps, is Ieuan Rhys's camp
Welsh grip – totally different from the original and, dare I say,
much more fun.
This
is the fourth time I've seen People, but the first time I've realised
that having the same actors play the film crew, and the restoration
team, and the paying visitors, might have a significance deeper than
simple parsimony …
I
clearly remember the first night of Bennett's The Old Country in 1977
– the thrill of not knowing, slowly realising, where, and who,
these people were, as Alec Guinness held forth about the parlous
state of the Church of England.
35
years later, in an age of social media [referenced in this new play],
never such innocence again. Nonetheless, delights aplenty, and no
shortage of surprises, on this Press Night at the National.
Another
collaboration with the patient Hytner, with something of a company
feel, Frances de la Tour contributing another memorable central role.
If
you'd prefer to come to this fading country seat free of expectations
and preconceptions, maybe you should take this preamble as a spoiler
warning, and come back after you've enjoyed the show.
South
Yorkshire, and a fine rain falling. Three [two and a half] sisters in
a crumbling pile – the not very Chekhovian decay of the privileged
classes. "Decay is a kind of progress". Dorothy [de la
Tour] dressed in a jumble sale of woollens, green wellies, crouching
down to sleep before a two-bar electric fire in the vast hall of
their once stately home. Iris, her "companion", [Linda
Bassett] similarly dressed, knitting for the troops, a reliable
source of Northern wit and common sense. Joined later by sister June,
a brisk vicar, Archdeacon of Harrogate[Selina Cadell].
The
house needs saving. Will the National Trust [thoroughly mauled here,
together with its spiritual sister the Anglican Church] save the day
? Or the Golf Club ? The Management College ? The shadowy "Concern"
[already snapping up Anglesey and a major Cathedral] ? Or even
Dorothy's old flame Teddy [a wonderful turn from Peter Egan] and his
mucky films ? They too represent heritage of a kind, shooting on a
fourposter with proper film stock.
As
we have come to expect from Bennett, some self-referencing. "Her
Big Chance"[the unglamorous face of filming porn, "Filthy
is favourite!", with characters called Kevin and Colin] and the
musings on the state of England. Not least the Church of England [another cleric with wandering hands]. And, as in The Habit of Art, Frances
de la Tour has a brief envoi and turns off the lights as she leaves
before the final curtain.
"I
think she was in an Agatha Christie - I can see her in this 20s dress
…" So the cream of acting talent, then, with some superb
performances, the three leading ladies, plus Miles Jupp as the smooth
talking Bond Street barrow boy, and Nicholas Le Prevost as Lumsden
from the Trust.
"Metaphor
is fraud," we are sternly reminded. And this is not really a
state of the nation play. "P.S.T," - People Spoil things –
the crowd have found their way into the secret garden, as Bennett wrote
in the late 60s. Heritage consumers, with nothing off limits –
"that at least the Holocaust has taught us". At the end,
after a stunning transformation to the strains of Eric Coates, they
troop in, and out, Lady Dorothy just another curiosity. But at least
she has been reminded of her glamorous Schiaperelli past, and she is
still in the house she grew up in.
Some
classic farce – the "actress" and the bishop – and many
glorious ideas, the anthology of chambers, the Coal, rumbling
ominously beneath the house [a metaphor if ever I heard one], the
newspapers in the attic, Trenet, and those old sixties songs ["Downtown"].
And most touching, perhaps, the relics. Not the cat's bowl, nor King
Charles's shirt, nor even Coward's "pair of tights King Arthur's
knights have completely worn away", but something more precious,
given away on impulse to young Louise [Frances Ashman], who came with
the crew for "Reach for the Thigh", showed Dorothy
kindness, and returned with the tourists.
And
of course, a rich harvest of Bennett bons mots and aphorisms. "Loving
was never the problem; it was being loved that was hard to learn …"
Dorothy confides to Teddy. Suggesting a darkness in her past, and
typical of the moving melange of moods and styles that make this such
a rewarding piece of theatre.
