Breaking the Code

Breaking the Code, which premiered in 1986, examines the life and work of Alan Turing, whose mother happened to live locally in Guildford. It interweaves Turing’s amazing mathematical work, both before, during and after the war, with his attempts to deal with, and the legal struggles as a result of, his homosexuality. An amazing and tragic life, which culminated in his death by suicide in 1954.

Once again Guilburys are to be congratulated on a fine, well-designed, and extremely informative programme, A4 size, packed full of photos and articles and snippets of fascinating facts.

We were fascinated immediately by the amazing set, designed by Ian Nichols. Set design is another of Guildburys’ strengths, one is always intrigued to see what they’ve come up with this time. The set was all about angles and geometrical shapes, hard to describe, but hopefully the photos included with this report will illustrate it well. Three panels, the side ones with a backlit circle on the front, the centre one with a backlit triangle. These were covered with handwritten scribbled notes of mathematical workings, or with letters on headed notepaper. Above was suspended a wooden hexagon, which reflected the hexagonal platform centre stage, where a good amount of the action took place. Two armchairs with cosy cushions to the left of the stage, and some garden furniture, represented Mrs Turing’s house.  A desk, chair, and a coatstand to the right of the stage represented Turing’s own rooms, with, when needed, a chaise longue. A stark table and chair set up was used on the raised platform.

As far as costumes were concerned, nice cosy 1940s-style suits, trousers with braces, waistcoats were in evidence on the gentlemen, with some elegant, subdued-colour dresses for the two ladies. The ladies really did call up memories of the women at that time, their elegance, their demeanour, the costumes were really helpful here.

The play was interspersed very cleverly during the various scene changes with variations on the old childhood hymn ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, composed, arranged and performed by Jay Orbaum. This has stayed with me. Sound and lighting were used to great dramatic effect.

All respect must be given to Oscar Heron, who played Alan Turing with great sensibility, and was on stage throughout the 2.5-hour performance, with the most complex script I think I’ve ever heard. This was a tour de force. He brought out Turing’s shyness and modesty in his private life, his social awkwardness, his stammer and his nailbiting, yet also his total confidence in his work – the man was two different people here, his eyes lit up, his stammer lessened, his gestures widened, his enthusiasm shone through. Lucky Director Oliver Bruce, to have found an actor so well able to become Alan Turing!

He was well-supported by the two ladies in his life, his mother (Eleanor Shaikh) and the colleague at Bletchley who loved him (Lauren Phillipou). His mother adored him, of course, and was obviously so proud of his achievements, yet like so many parents when a child flies high in the world of science, maths and technology, she didn’t really want to know too much about the ins and outs of his work, his triumphs, because she was simply unable to follow it! There were many in the audience, not only me surely, who could well understand that. Once Alan was in full flow, however much we wanted to follow, it was beyond us! In contrast, there must have been many in the audience, of a more scientific bent, who were fascinated – one chap told me he was fascinated by the notes on the 3 backdrops!

Later, as Alan confessed so fearfully to her that ‘he was in big trouble’, her reactions were very finely crafted – shock, horror, talk of ‘nancy boys’, then a great tenderness for the son she loved so dearly. This was very thought-provoking. How much more terrifying it must have been to come out as homosexual in those days, and how much more challenging for a parent. A fine performance from both.

Pat Green, the so elegant, clever, fresh young colleague at Bletchley, who became so fond of Alan there, and confessed her love for him, which of course he rebuffed but in the gentlest possible way, was also a sensitive performance. They remained good friends, she went on to marry and have children, they met for a lovely picnic as best pals.

The great casting continued with Stephen Liddle as Detective Mick Ross, not an unkind man, and so frustrated when Turing confessed that he had lied about a burglary at his home, and confessed to having a same sex relationship with his friend Ron. ‘Why did you have to tell me?’ From that point on Ross was obliged to follow the letter of the law.

And indeed, with the casting of Mike Pennick as Dillwyn Knox, Alan and Pat’s manager at Bletchley. Here was another person who tried to follow Alan’s science but couldn’t. He warned him about his sexuality, which made Alan vulnerable of course, in a job like his. We found out later that he had had similar issues in his own younger days, before embracing family life. A good performance here too, a real person.

The other supporting roles were all well executed too. Oliver Bruce, the director, trod the boards as the bluff rather intimidating John Smith of MI5 or 6 or some such. Dean Slade gave a good brief performance as Christopher Morcom, Turing’s fellow maths obsessed schoolfriend and crush. Joe Hall played Ron, Turing’s pickup from the pub, the cause in fact of his downfall. Last but not least, Sam Gould showed his linguistic talents (was that really Greek?) as Turing’s lover abroad. How he managed to remember all his strange lines was also astonishing.

Director Oliver Bruce was brave to take on this challenging play, but I suspect he knew that he could pull it off, once he had his talented team in place.

So, Guildburys, your audiences are as ever so thankful that you provide such top quality thought-provoking drama in our local area.

© NODA CIO. All rights reserved.