Bill Risebero reviews a welcome return to Hampstead of Dorothy L Sayers’ The Man born to be King
To perform Passion Plays is what the Hampstead Players were put on the earth for. Their very first production, in 1976, was John Bowen’s The Fall and Redemption of Man. Then there was Rony Robinson’s Events in an Upper Room and in 1986 The Wakefield Mystery Plays. One of their largest-ever productions was of The Mystery Plays in 2004. During this time they also contributed to Lenten worship with many shorter Passion Plays, culminating this year in Henri Gheon’s The Way of the Cross.
The Man born to be King fits into this pattern. Written as twelve one-hour radio plays, it was aired by the BBC at monthly intervals during 1941 and 1942. From 1990 to 1997, the Hampstead Players presented the last eight plays, in their radio version, one play a year, during Holy Week. The listeners sat in the darkened nave of the church, and the invisible actors, in the galleries, surrounded them with a wall of sound.
And now we have this new version by Margaret Pritchard Houston, who has edited the last five plays, dealing with the Passion and Resurrection, and adapted them for the stage.
In 1941, the BBC’s project was popular with listeners, but scholars questioned the theological credentials of the writer, Dorothy L Sayers, known mainly for her detective stories. She was daring to break new ground. At that time the Lord Chamberlain forbade the representation of Jesus on the stage, and for some it was scandalous to put into the mouths of Biblical characters anything other than the words of the Authorised Version.
Sayers realised there was ‘no precedent’ for what she was doing. The medieval Mystery Plays were largely unknown at the time, and Oberammergau, of course, lay behind enemy lines. But the War was a good time to reassert moral values, and she felt it was worth taking the theatrical and theological risks to dare to put the hallowed stories into colloquial English.
What was colloquial 70 years ago, of course, is less so now. Some of the dialogue is less immediate, perhaps, than we would wish. And moving from the sound studio to the stage poses problems. Scene changes are smooth in a radio play, but much more obtrusive on the physical stage, particularly in a play that has so many of them. And a play conceived entirely in terms of sound, in which so much of the ‘action’ takes place through reported speech, needs to be reconceived, for the stage, in terms of lively physical movement. I think these things all proved problematic, but there was much that was positive about the production so we were well compensated.
It looked beautiful. Jane Mayfield’s costumes, without being literal, gave the feeling of 1st century Palestine, and Cameron Houston’s lighting, with its strong chiaroscuro, emphasised the drama. The harmonious costume colours against a dark background, evoked Baroque painting, as one moving tableau succeeded another, from the washing of the disciples’ feet to the appearance of the resurrected Jesus. The music, both recorded and live, made an important contribution, technically to cover scene changes, and artistically to underline the events of the play. The footwashing scene, with Allegri’s Miserere in the background was moving, as was the sung performance of a Bulgarian lament during the Deposition.
This was a play, and a production, in which the Jewish dimension was well recognised. Barney Lyons, excellent as an angry Baruch, gave the play a strong start. Sayers’ conception of Judas, too, was a substantial one, and in Nicolas Holzapfel’s fine performance he was a complex human being, almost stealing the show. Among the coterie of High Priests, Harlequin’s Caiaphas out-Heroded Herod, and Catherine Martin was a characterful, even humorous Annas.
David Gardner’s Pilate came over with all the humanity and dignity which Sayers invested him with, and Moray Jones as the disciple John was strong and sincere. With such a large cast one might expect a certain unevenness in the acting, and some of the less experienced players needed, as individuals, to project more. But the all-important ensembles, as in the trial scene, worked well, and with so much doubling and tripling of roles, everybody had a contribution to make. Natasha Blumenthal, Rebecca Selman, Derrick Hill, Stephen Clarke, Barbara Alden, Michaela Clement-Hayes, Simon Malpas, Nicki Siddall, Cristina Bancora, Simon Young, Dorothy Jenkins and Simon May dealt adroitly with the rapid character (and costume) changes which would have been easy enough in a radio play but were much more demanding on the stage. Particularly characterful were Hoda Ali, in a variety of roles, and Margaret Pritchard Houston herself, combining her flair for direction with some lively cameos.
But the play revolved, as it should, around Alessandro Predari’s Jesus. In him we saw Jesus as victim, a tall, bearded El Greco figure, calm and composed at first, with a beautiful stillness and a distinct sense of ‘otherness’ in the Upper Room, but increasingly distraught as his Passion gathered momentum. Then, following the Resurrection, his tenderness to the disciples, particularly to Michaela Clement-Hayes’ Magdalene, in the garden, brought a sense of redemption.
Shakespeare, as we know, went on revising his plays after early performances, and this version of The Man Born to be King also needs some editing, both for length (it is far from being a ‘two hours traffic’) and for some of Sayers’ rationalist attempts to over-explain what is, and perhaps should remain, inexplicable. It is well worth the effort. Margaret Pritchard Houston has done a fine job in conceiving and directing it, and I hope it has a continued life.
Born Again!
Bill Risebero