RSC Open Stages Showcase : Questors Theatre, 27 April 2012
By a magnificently large-minded gesture the Royal Shakespeare Company is trying to break down the rigid apartheid between amateur and professional theatre. In various regions all over Britain a number of amateur companies have been selected to give special performances, from which a handful will be picked out by the RSC to be shown again at Stratford during two weekends in July. It was no great surprise that our own Hampstead Players were chosen as one of the groups to take part at the Questors Theatre in Ealing—the showcase theatre for the south-east region. On Friday 27 April there was a single performance of The Winter’s Tale, the first half played by the Archway Theatre Company and the second by Hampstead Players.
The Questors is a handsome, purpose-built theatre with about 300 seats on a steeply raked horseshoe around a thrust stage, emerging from a large proscenium. Although far more comfortable (and weatherproof!), the building is reminiscent of Shakespeare’s own Globe Theatre and marvellously suitable for the production of his plays. The general standard of production and acting from both the companies was high, and it was fascinating to see the characters played by different actors in the two parts, and to feel the change of style of the two directors. Given that each cast had eighteen players, this meant that there were thirty-six in all.
Neither group wore Jacobean costume or realistic modern dress. In fact, the two sets of men’s clothes were not all that different, though Archway’s tended towards dinner jackets at court, while Hampstead’s were more like practice dress with colourful additions. In the same way, Archway’s furniture was a little more realistic and elaborate than Hampstead’s. Both groups gave us some effective ensemble scenes, both had done a little cutting, and Archway had taken several interesting liberties with the text.
The most obvious difference was the interval. For Archway it was just after, and for Hampstead just before, Act III Scene iii, so that we saw that strange scene twice over. It starts tragically with Antigonus leaving Hermione’s baby to its fate; Archway’s Rick Hall and our Said Abdallah rose well to the occasion, but then came the most famous stage direction in Shakespeare: Exit, pursued by a bear. The Globe may well have had a real live bear, but our two companies had to do without. Archway solved the problem with a man wearing a bear’s head and a cape; Hampstead made do with a sound effect. Both methods raised an inevitable laugh.
After that, the scene turned to rustic comedy, as the abandoned babe was discovered by an old shepherd (Mark Bellchambers and our Simon Malpas – in two delightful versions of the same dear old silly). He called to his son, played for Archway by Stuart Finlayson and for Hampstead by Edward Smith, both of whom went full out for the farcical style in which his speeches are written. This was the point in the play when things began to look more hopeful, so to avoid our being too upset by a disastrous shipwreck and the terrible death of Antigonus, Shakespeare had arranged for us to hear of both events through the comic chatter of the clowns.
Catherine Martin has already written a lovingly perceptive review of the Hampstead production for last September’s magazine, so it would be silly to go over that ground again. The fascinating thing about the Ealing performance was the way the two productions and alternative actors unconsciously commented on one another. The first half was directed by Carol Hall, the second by John Willmer, and each of them put their personal stamp on the play. Not many of the characters appeared in both halves, but a remarkably different impression was given by most of those that did.
The most striking contrast was King Leontes. For Archway, Peter Russell showed us a chilling portrait of a man who really might be mad; through tight lips, he obsessively spat out his suspicions like bullets, almost as if he took comfort from their repetition. In that mood, it was impossible to like him, but he was genuinely frightening. We only saw our Matthew Williams after Leontes had repented, but then he instantly clutched at our hearts, as his sorrow poured out of him.
The two actresses playing Queen Hermione could hardly have looked more different—Joy Andrews tall, red-haired and pale; Gaynor Bassey darkly compact and intense—but they both had the same abundant warmth and dignity. Several people lamented that Gaynor had so little to do but imitate a statue, but then her body language is one of her most remarkable gifts. Of all the Hermiones I have seen (including one recently at Stratford) hers was the only statue that has really convinced me.
Surely nobody could have guessed that Chris Yeldham and David Gardner were playing the same King Polixenes. You really would have had to be a bit mad to distrust Chris with your wife; he was such an obviously good and harmless chap. David, on the other hand, was altogether more formidable, though it’s fair to say that Shakespeare shows a fiercer side of the king’s character in Act IV than in Act I. The two versions of Camillo by Philip Mills and Adrian Hughes fitted much more easily together.
But, as Catherine Martin pointed out, the key to the play is Paulina, and here the two actresses achieved an almost magical continuity. Felicity Westmacott and Moragh Gee didn’t look so very much alike, but their power and even their style were almost identical. It was as if two people were giving one outstanding performance.
This review is terribly unfair. What about Princess Perdita and Prince Florizel? Why is nothing said about Cleomenes, Dion, Emilia and the lords and ladies of Sicilia’s court? How could Dorcas be left out, with all her rollicking, rustic friends, not to mention that joyful rogue, Autolycus? Above all, what can justify overlooking the supernatural character of Time?
The answer is, of course, that Catherine Martin’s review has already described them all with charm and insight. There remain two people, however, who must be mentioned. In the first production, the late Cliff Burgess gave an unforgettable performance as the gaoler in the first half, and he was to have appeared in the second half at Ealing. When the time came he was too ill, and it is poignant that Judy Burgess gave us that delightfully comic Mopsa, while her husband was on his sickbed. Everyone’s heart must go out to her in her recent loss.
“The Winters Tale”
Bill Fry