Talking Heads and Easy Stages

Two one-act plays formed the evening both by new directors trying their hand at a new venture.

The original multi-BAFTA nominated television series Talking Heads is now 36 years old and still dear to the hearts of those of us who remember its first airing.  Staging a ‘written for television’ drama presents challenges not faced when cameras can instantly cut from one view or setting to another, and when the performer can change costume in the blink of an eye and break up the monologue into ‘takes’ with rests in between, so we are keen to see how the adaptation is made.   The decision to select just two episodes of the series required two strong players who could learn a 30-40 minute monologue and hold the stage for that length of time.  Bed Among the Lentils:  At centre stage an upright chair was enough to represent the kitchen and drawing room of the vicarage.  As the action began with Susan seated it was effectively lit with a soft spot to leave the sides in darkness focussing attention on the performer.   To stage left, accurately though minimally reflecting the requirements of the script for a side-chapel, was placed a setting of wooden lectern, over which hung an ecclesiastical stole, beside an antique looking, candy twist-legged trolley with lace-edged white cloth. Bennett’s third environment specifies a vestry, which was provided by a seat positioned at stage right with a bentwood coat stand a little further upstage on which hung a jacket to be used later.  This seat was just perfect!  Resembling a church pew in appearance it had a hinged seat that lifted to reveal a compartment housing a liquor bottle.  Lighting changes via a cross fade through blackout to the bright new action point allowed Susan to alternate her situations through the monologue for visual variety.  The changes were effected smoothly and promptly, guiding the viewers through the narrative.  In all, this was a very successful and visually pleasing staging that more than adequately replicated the flow achieved in the broadcast version.

The rather faded appearance of Susan was very much in keeping with her story - the dowdy, pallid beige and grey of her skirt and cardigan ensemble accessorised by sensible shoes and wide hair band, almost unnoticed against her hair’s colour but which kept her hair off her face, all served to create an invisible and sadly insignificant vicar’s wife. The leather handbag was large enough for the first bottle we saw and it was satisfying to see her reaction at the initial sip - the sigh of reassurance as the alcohol hit her taste buds with a kick.  Pretty good when it was probably only water or something equally innocuous… and going for that second sip was a lovely comic moment appreciated by the audience.  Her movements and natural gestures were both fluid and disciplined with no wasted effort or fear of stillness, and beautifully captured the spirit of each episode of her story; eagerly sitting forward or languidly resting back in the chair, earnestly polishing candlesticks or disparagingly manhandling the Forest Murmurs of Mrs Shrubsole, nonchalantly plucking hidden bottles from a flower vase or a pew, or removing her cardi and donning a jacket without fluster to transform into the slightly more rigid ‘saved’ teetotaller wife delicately balancing an appropriately dainty cup of tea.  Tracey’s vocal range also led us through Susan's thoughts.  With clear diction she was able to convey her contempt for the flower arranging ladies, drew us into her confidences with a direct glance and cheekily conspiratorial tone, and dreamily shared with us her reminiscences of Mr Ramesh’s lovely legs.  She knew just when to pause to allow for either her thought process or the laughter that naturally occurred from Alan Bennett’s acutely observed words and was able at the turn of a moment to show the frailty and poignancy of this extraordinary woman with an astonishing show of emotional distress that fully deserved the admiration and the applause it received.  A first rate accomplished performance. 

A Chip In the Sugar: The main drapes opened and Graham was discovered sitting in a grey wing chair balancing a cup of tea that he sipped as he began his tale.  The soft Yorkshire accent was easy on the ears and the steady pace allowed us time to take in the setting as we listened.  Very different from that of the first monologue this was a full stage representation of a bedroom with angled flats creating a wall upstage, to the left of which a rail with a closed curtain indicated a window.  Just below it stood a bed with a white coverlet and a bedside table dressed with a practical lamp and a glass of water.  Far down left a traditional men’s plaid dressing gown lay over the back of a simple upright chair.  This was not an elaborate room; plain blue walls with a single unremarkable landscape above the bed immediately suggested an impersonal uncared for space; that of a middle-aged unmarried man still living at home with Mam.   As before, blackouts allowed for a change of positioning and passing of time, with nighttime sections demonstrated realistically by a softer, blueish hue and the lighting up of the practical bedside lamp.  Supporting this initial impression, Graham himself also looked ‘dingy’ in open neck shirt under a carelessly buttoned cardigan, with loose brown corduroy trousers and shabby slippers.  Kim was able to use this costume advantageously to underpin the nervousness of the character by thrusting his hands deep into the cardigan’s pockets; Graham’s habit of doing so making it the shapeless garment it was.  Similarly, for variety, the pockets of the trousers were used - a comfortable gesture for the actor as so often there’s a worry over what to do with hands, but here highlighting the narrator’s awkwardness.   We saw a lot more movement and activity in this scenario as Graham paced back and forth anxiously or gave us vivid gestures to help our picturing of Mam’s fall, etc.  His fear was made apparent by his furtively peeping through the curtains out at the ‘street’ below.  This fidgety action maintained visual interest and engaged us with the story. As we watched his disturbed mind dealing with the changes in Mam’s outlook on life Kim’s body language became more physically uncomfortable with hunched stature, hugging himself or rubbing his arm and the rocking typical of certain disorders. Other people fill the narrative and Kim’s clear diction and vocal changes helped us to ‘see’ these extra characters in a subtle way, maintaining Graham’s own character, as he introduced Mr Turnbull, the vicar, Leonard and Mrs Pamela Musgrave.  There is a comedy element within the tragedy but Kim was careful not to let this monologue become a stand-up routine.  Clearly aware of the great sadness and sometimes bitterness of the situation he timed the ‘laugh lines’ cautiously, always with good projection even in the introverted musings, and conveyed a realistic understanding of a tortured soul.  

For a first foray into directing I would call this a success.  Sensible for a new venture to limit the scale of the exercise to a small and intimately manageable cast of experienced performers and as such it worked really well. Whether the choice of Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads is appropriate material these days is debatable, however.  These are both wounded individuals and putting up alcoholism and mental illness as subjects for laughter is a little outdated.  it was, nevertheless, quite obvious that a great deal of thoughtful preparation had gone into the direction of these two deliveries. In Bed Among The Lentils Penny introduced more deliberate comedy than is written by having Susan demonstrate her addiction.  This revelation was subtle, occasional sips from the sherry bottle in the bag, and the communion wine in the flower vase and pew, and we were able to laugh sympathetically at her plight because of the sensitive way it was portrayed.   The careful coaching of Tracey’s slight tipsiness was also evident, never allowing it to go over the top. Equally, a clear guiding hand helped Kim to create a finely nuanced performance of a believable Graham who demonstrated a range of emotions both vocally and physically. The pace of both pieces was steered through moments of acceleration and steadiness, comedy and pathos, light and shade and resulted in a well presented and enjoyable first half of the evening.    

After the interval the society presented Easy Stages.  Described in the Concord Theatricals catalogue as “an amusing, subtle parody of the backstage goings-on…”,  Nick Warburton’s script is actually a comically observed criticism of a shambolic amateur company trying to accomplish a task clearly beyond their capacity.  Together with its companion Don’t Blame It On The Boots the two one-act plays would provide a full evening’s entertainment based on the same attempt to present Hamlet.  Here we saw Easy Stages taken in isolation - two days out from the dress rehearsal a stage crew practise a timely scene change in Act III of Hamlet.  The programme informed us that a 16-year old would be directing for the very first time - another new director, two in one evening.  The play was presented on the full stage. It utilised the set from A Chip In The Sugar, keeping the upstage flats and the bed in place for economy, but there was no attempt to create Warburton’s Elsinore state room set and it seemed a pity that the hard work of the performers had not been backed up by a little more effort to provide the right environment.  The action started at full-on panic and shouting and we began to realise this was not being directed as a ‘subtle’ comedy but with as much confusion and noise as possible with the intention of turning it into a farce and there was certainly a lot of running around by the cast.  The lighting was a bright all over wash with a green cast on the back flat, and the blackout towards the end was on time and surprisingly thorough, so the cast did well to complete their moves of set striking in the dark with such a tidy pile up.  Music to start the show and that within the action as Patsy pressed the ‘wrong switch’ in the blackout were of good volume  with vocals audible as far as projection goes but sometimes unclear in the melee going on so some of the very funny lines were sadly lost.  Congratulations on the original and imaginative additions to the basics of the script that worked very well to create comic moments.  The details of Patsy’s coffee break tray complete with a flower vase and condiments, and Martin’s note-taking on his arm and wet trousers to highlight the disaster of the wet bed rightly earned their laughter.  The script had been learnt and cues were picked up promptly to maintain the pace with all entrances and exits timed well so the action flowed without hitch, and the cast were dressed in ways that facilitated their movements.  Handling the props seemed to have been rehearsed to make it look as if they really didn’t know what they were doing.  It was a good idea to separate the coffee break conversation from the main stage in a lull during the activity and we were able to get a glimpse into the characters:  there are great characters in this play carefully designed to complement and contrast with one another; excruciatingly dim Patsy, gossipy flirt Alice, helpful but inefficient Guardian reader Gill, amiable Martin trying to follow his given instructions as deputy to Gerry the obsessively perfectionist Stage Manager, Kate the producer they all ignore and Sid the handyman trying to get on with his job. The cast all exhibited and expended a lot of energy in an enthusiastic presentation with easy physicality, so for that they must be credited.  It was a bold decision by the society to give an untried youngster carte blanche to take the helm with such a challenging interpretation of a good script and all the responsibilities inherent in the role, but they are championing the next generation and all groups need to do that for the future.  

 

 

 

 

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