Hangmen

Hangmen was first produced in the UK at the Royal Court Theatre London, in 2015. It is a very funny, and very dark play set in the early 60s, when hanging still occurred, and then in 1965 just after hanging had been abolished. What does a hangman do then, poor thing? Like a lot of ex-servicemen used to do at the time, they open a pub. The real life, most famous of them, Albert Pierrepoint did, and Harry Wade, this play’s main character did too. They meet in this play, in fact, in explosive circumstances.

The curtain opened onto the stark view of the inside of a typical prison, all white-tiled walls and gangways around a central atrium. We then entered a cell, with a bed and a chair. Behind the gauze was the hanging cell with its chair, rope and trapdoor.

In 1965 we were in Harry Wade’s pub, a very authentic one too, with its well-stocked bar, old-fashioned pint mugs with handles, ale pumps, grimy off-white walls, bar stools, small round tables with Windsor chairs, no carpet on the floor, matt glass windows reading ‘Free House’, ‘Ales, wines, spirits’, and ‘Public Bar’. There were beautiful old wall lamps, and a thick maroon draught curtain. It took one right back to that time, before pubs became chic restaurants. This is one of Guildburys many strengths, set design and attention to detail, they always impress.

No jogging bottoms or trainers in sight, of course. The men were all in suits, often three-piece ones, Harry Wade always wore a bow tie. All the other men also always wore a tie, and if not in a formal suit, wore a tweed jacket or a cardigan, sometimes a sleeveless one. Haircuts were suitably short. Shoes were exceptionally shiny. My dad could have walked in there any moment and felt very comfortable. Landlady Alice Wade was always smartly dressed, and having been surprised in her (quilted, of course) dressing gown, reappeared in a very smart dress and jacket with her hair up in an elaborate 60s fashion statement. Young Shirley Wade was transformed in the final scene wearing a very pleasant pale-yellow A-line coat, with matching hair band.

A young man, Hennessy (Toby Dunevein) was in his cell waiting to be hanged. It was 1963. A bell tolled, a light flashed on and off. The hangman, Harry Wade, arrived, plus the guards, the doctor, and some other functionaries. Hennessy vehemently protested his innocence and flipped out, grabbing hold of the iron bedstead. He had to be prised off there, arm straps were applied. He was dragged to the chamber. The noose made of a very thick, heavy rope was put round his neck. The hood was applied, even though he didn’t want it. The trapdoor opened. A shocking scene.

A projection flashed the passing few years onto a backdrop. Now in 1965 the curtain opened onto Harry Wade’s pub. Harry, 3-piece suited and wearing his trademark bow tie, was serving along with his wife Alice. Harry was a proud confident man, his wife (played by Mary Ormond) a competent, friendly landlady, though she seemed a bit downtrodden. The regulars, Bill, Charlie and Arthur engaged in chatter with Harry, the subject of Hennessy’s possible innocence came up. A sardonic police inspector stood apart at the bar, occasionally joining in the conversation, but separate. Shirley, the Wade’s 14-year-old daughter was helping out at the bar. She was shy, awkward, anxious and almost bullied by her father, who called her mopey. A good performance by Anna Joshi.

A young enthusiastic journalist Clegg (Joe Hall) tries to engage Harry in conversation about his views on the abolition of hanging. ‘No comment’ from Harry for quite a while, but then his ego cannot resist, and the threat by Clegg to go to rival Pierrepoint instead nails it, and he invites Clegg upstairs for an interview. An ominous atmosphere is building up. The very strong cast enjoy building up the rich characters, the humour bubbles away: ‘The guillotine’s messy, - and  French.’ The trio of regulars are great, Jez Gooding as Charlie, always repeating what’s been said into the ear of bumbling, hard of hearing Arthur, played by Oli Bruce, and Matthew Lacey as the old soak Bill, always up for a free pint if able to scrounge one. Jonathan Arundel was the slightly worrying tight-lipped Inspector Fry, was he on duty? He certainly quaffed a few pints.

At one stage Syd appears. He had been Wade’s assistant, but Wade had had him fired for some rather unsavoury conduct. Wade despises Syd, Syd is whiney and full of resentment. Eddie Woolrich made this character his own, nicely dim, a bit of a stutter, awkward hand movements.

Into this broad Northern atmosphere that you could have cut with a knife breezes a Southerner, Mooney, slick, scathing, erudite (Have you read much Kierekegaard?), menacing, with an explosive temper, and for some unknown reason, designs on young Shirley. A great performance from Frazer Woodhams.

All the while this dark atmosphere is building, the humour continues, this is a really funny play, and the Guildburys are masters of comic timing.

Damien De Roche gave a brilliant performance as Harry Wade, master of all he surveyed, full of bluster, and yet oversensitive to any perceived slight.

Of course, Shirley goes missing.

The article appears, Wade is pumped up with his new, or renewed, celebrity. A furious Albert Pierrepoint storms in (a polished performance from Ian Nichols), remonstrates with him for having broken the code of silence: Does the word sacrosanct mean anything to you?

The weather is foul, thunder, lightning, torrential rain. Shirley is still missing.

Mooney and Syd meet in a pub, there’s a plan behind all this it seems.

The tension becomes almost unbearable. People jump to conclusions. How will this end?

I am really grateful fo Director Mark Ashdown (he can really do dark!) and the Guildburys for bringing this remarkable play to this local audience. The brilliant cast gave their all, Ashdown’s fine direction built up the stark atmosphere layer by layer, whilst bringing out all the comedy. At the harrowing final scene, the audience gasped, we were all so involved in this. There was a kind of quiet winding down, oh gosh, what happens now? Then in walked a much more mature and balanced Shirley.

Astonishing. A superb evening. Couldn’t have seen better in the West End. Thank you, Guildburys.

Show photos by Phill Griffiths

 

© NODA CIO. All rights reserved.