Rumours

My initial reaction as the main drapes opened was that we were in a suburban 1960s style sitting room.  As it turns out I was wrong.  The colouring, the style of the furniture and the pictures on the walls, the glass-fronted display cabinet, the generous supply of occasional tables, and, if I may say, the lack of elegance did nothing to suggest to me the home of a high ranking, or even a middle ranking, politician (whose wife has a lot of money). The stereotypical set for a farce calls for many doors and, frequently, levels so it is challenging for an amateur company on a smaller stage than Broadway’s or the West End’s to fit it all onto the available space. In this case the upstage wall, disjointedly painted in different tones, housed three very basic looking working doors, leaving the others, to kitchen, cellar and further bedrooms, to be imagined as being via the wings, and the elevation of the bedroom door on a platform a mere few inches high meant a little of the business of frantic running up and down the stairs was lost.  We can but provide what our finances allow and amateur audiences are an understanding lot.  The seating arrangements were a motley collection of unmatched pieces - upholstered sofa and velvet chair juxtaposed with leather swivel.   This was an economical and functional design that served its inhabitants well, allowing them the space to move around without masking each other too much, and with doors that opened and closed easily and quietly for the necessary prompt entrances (only once did the front door fail to close properly giving us too clear a view of a black void).  Once my brain had switched off the anachronism and accepted the set as simply a backdrop for the action, the focus was turned to where it rightfully belongs - on the performance.  

The whole was lit by a good overall wash of interior evening lighting so no obvious shadows were noticeable on the flats.  The set up of the cars’ headlights approaching the house worked efficiently, seen through the window in the front door at centre.  The swinging around as they apparently turned in to park was most effective and the soft sound of the crunch on gravel was at a perfect volume to ensure that everyone could hear it without its being artificially overloud.  A number of other sound effects graced the production in line with the plot’s requirements: the telephone bell added its own touch of comedy when, on its first ring, it was a little late stopping after Chris lifted the receiver. Manfully she carried on but it did seem to throw her for a couple of lines.  Good choice for the doorbell, since it was required so often, nicely discreet and always on time, and the toilet flush sounded muted, realistically as if through a door.  The noise of the kitchen crash was largely masked by laughter from the audience at the preceding joke, but it seemed to accurately replicate breaking glass and china.

It is frustrating, is it not, that the lack of available resources, or the money to acquire them, constrains amateur theatre as it does?  I refer to the given circumstances in this play of tasteful surroundings, the displayed wealth of politicians, barristers and accountants who can afford a butler and cook, and brand new BMWs, and from that, the reasonable assumption that they would have the latest gadgets and fashions.  Pretty much all telephones nowadays are handsets, even those with intercom function, so the sense I’d had that this was not a contemporary piece was reinforced by the static corded ‘phone.  I’m not complaining, honestly; the prop did not affect the performances one jot and I may be the only person who would register it, but isn’t it just that sort of attention to detail that elevates our productions?   Dressing the set were balloons to indicate a party plus a few celebration cards on the cabinet, and a very well stocked drinks table with ample bottles to provide for the guests.  Len delivered a carefully wrapped, evocatively rattly Harrods gift box complete with message tag that cleverly gave Cookie the means by which to knock it to the floor, not an easy piece of business to carry off believably.  Cassie’s crystal was exactly the size Neil Simon wanted it to be (how does something that big go round the U-bend?) and the large casserole dish would easily supply food for eight, while the cut glass gin and vodka tumblers and the spritzer balloon were appropriate.  Towels, bandages and kitchen roll finger wraps did their work of adding humour to the delight of the audience.  All the props were handled with ease without distracting from the action and seemed to be in the right place for their prompt use.  

It is easier to dress gentlemen in smart evening wear, which tends not to date, than it is ladies whose fashions flux regularly, so the timeless dinner jackets and dress trousers, bow ties and Len’s white tux and cummerbund looked suitably distinguished.  The ladies each had a look very different from the others: Chris’s floppy blue satin might have been a smart outfit but the addition of a lacy shawl did nothing to give it the glamour expected of the successful barrister friend of even an Assistant Deputy government minister.  And could the black tights and heavy black shoes have been replaced by something lighter and more delicate?  Claire did look very classy and elegant in her black sequinned dress and bolero combo, completely in keeping with the formal “little black dress” of sophisticated socialising.  I liked the inspiration behind Cookie’s unique outfit, which not only looked totally inappropriate as per the comments of Claire, but also fitted so well with the turning of her into a Pole using a subtle interpretation of the text.  Clever!  The impeccable uniform, with all its accoutrements, of PC Collins gave gravitas to a role that was extremely funny with so many beautifully delivered droll laugh lines.  Hair and make up were unremarkable, although we might have expected a firmer coiffure on Chris, given her statement that she’d had her “hair done for tonight”.  Claire’s swollen lip relied on her skill in the way she talked to make us believe it so convincingly, consequently needing no make up, and there was a hint of smudged mascara under the eyes of Cassie to back up her tantrum.  Jen’s nosebleed, a feature so often overdone with red make up under the nose, was satisfyingly realistic with the colour mainly on her hankie.  

I confess to having had my concerns about how successful this would be given the photographs on social media of 70 year olds playing high powered, top of their profession, working 40 and 50 year olds, but credit to you - it came off!  I laughed a lot, along with the rest of the audience, such is the excellence of Neil Simon’s words and the well rehearsed presentation by the cast.  The alterations  made to the script to accommodate the age difference slipped in easily and unnoticed by the audience, e.g. children to grandchildren.  Farce is the hardest genre to get right as it relies so much on timing, physicality and energy and these players really pulled it off.  There was an implicit intelligence behind their delivery that contrasted the pointed lines with those throw away asides in which we saw the characters’ real thoughts so amusingly.  The pace was energetically, and surprisingly, maintained, the script’s having been well learned. 

I applaud the society for so successfully staging this production.  They overcame the limitations of a small stage and single level set in ways that did nothing to detract from the comedy performances of a dedicated cast.  This was a thoroughly enjoyable evening that generated genuine spontaneous laughter from all of us.  Very well done.

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