Tonight, Matthew, I am going to be W.H. Auden

And so to the theatre. I have been to see 'The Habit of Art' by the very much alive, alive, oh, Alan Bennett. This production features David Yelland and Matthew Kelly. You may recognise the former as an actor (he was the Prince of Wales in 'Chariots of Fire' - the Nazi sympathising one, not the chap who speaks to plants) more than you do the latter. However though Kelly is perhaps best known for lowbrow television that was always by way of a diversion from his career on stage (*). He trained with Richard Griffiths, much esteemed by this blog and a frequent actor in Bennett's plays and films, indeed he was the originator of the part played here by Kelly.

The play is, of course, very funny and very clever; certainly too clever for me to be able to give much insight in to what it's really about, beyond the imaginary meeting portrayed between Auden and Britten in Oxford some thirty years after they fell out and stopped speaking to each other. The nuances of gay identity examined are somewhat beyond me, although I did get the impression that Bennett is more sympathetic to Auden's more straightforward approach to trade than to Britten's penchant for young boys. There was some discussion of 'Death in Venice' (astonishingly Thomas Mann turned out to be Auden's father in law; much of the surprise obviously coming from the idea of him having been married in the first place) and the judgement on the composer's intention was somewhat harsher than mine. Bennett also finds time, via a play within the play, to poke fun at actors. This mise en abyme - in which the fictitious meeting takes place - is called 'Caliban's Day' reflecting Auden's apparent view that the end of 'The Tempest' could have been improved. Interestingly the way that Bennett chooses to end his play is with what is essentially a quote from Macbeth.

I know it's from Macbeth because I've just seen that as well. I saw the remaining three plays at the pop-up Shakespeare's Rose in York. As well as the Scottish play these were A Midsummer Night's Dream and Romeo & Juliet. I and the elder Miss Epictetus, on holiday from university at the moment, rather enjoyed them all, although the critical reaction elsewhere was mixed. The place didn't have as much atmosphere as the Globe, but I rather enjoy standing up to watch Shakespeare. If I have criticism it would be that they staged the full version of each play; there is undoubtedly a good reason why an edited text is normally used.


(*) I had only seen him once before, giving his Malvolio to an audience that seemed to consist entirely of me and several hundred convent schoolgirls. It was disconcerting even for someone of my experience and sang froid, but at least I didn't have to queue for the toilet during the interval.

Une piece bien faite

And so to the theatre. I have been to see Alan Ayckbourn's 'Relatively Speaking'. Whilst there is an overlap with the themes of 'Deep Blue Sea' and both are 'well-made' plays - Rattigan's because that's what he did and Ayckbourn's because Stephen Joseph told him to write one - this piece isn't trying to make any particular point; the author fully abides by the limits that farce places on character depth and development. He's just trying to make people laugh and, as usual with this playwright, he succeeds. It's a very funny play, despite essentially being one joke stretched over two hours. And as it happened the largest laugh came in response to the suggestion that a husband's shame at finding out that his wife is having an affair would apparently be all the greater if it was discovered that the man in question was very much older than her, albeit coupled with admiration for the fact that the lover was still up to it at his age.

The stars were Robert Powell and Liza Goddard. I don't wish to diminish Goddard's career, but surely the most interesting thing about her is that she has been married to both Doctor Who and Alvin Stardust; she should be a pub quiz question. Powell on the other hand will always be, at least for someone of my vintage, the Son of God in Zeffirelli's 'Jesus of Nazereth'.

Possibly the least followed of all Christ's teachings, although there are many contenders

Powell had no problems delivering Ayckbourn's lines though; after all he had long ago demonstrated his comedic chops in 'The Detectives' with Jasper Carrot. If you've never seen it then you're in for a treat; it can be found on YouTube.

Possibly the funniest of the episodes of 'The Detectives'; although there are many contenders

I can't remember whether I mentioned it, but the Carmen I saw in Verona was also directed by Zeffirelli. He is, and like Alan Bennett he is still thankfully with us, a man of huge influence and range of achievements. My own personal favourite is that he was reputedly the inspiration for Uncle Monty in 'Withnail and I' as played by the late, great Richard Griffiths: "There is a certain je ne sais quoi - oh, so very special - about a firm, young carrot...Excuse me..."

I think sexual intercourse is in order, Gilbert.

And so to the theatre. Readers may recall the film 'A Private Function' from thirty odd years ago, featuring a pig-napping of the sort which often appear in P.G. Wodehouse's Blandings novels. The film has particular resonance with this blog because the screenplay was written by one of our heroes, the thankfully still very much alive Alan Bennett; because much of it was filmed in Ilkley, the epicentre of wargaming in lower Wharfedale; and because the most sympathetic character, played by another of our heroes, the sadly no longer with us Richard Griffiths, is an accountant. I have now been to see the stage musical version, 'Betty Blue Eyes'.

I'm not really, despite what the lady in the kitchen shop may think, much of a fan of musical theatre, but I have to say that I enjoyed it enormously. In translation from the big screen to the stage and from comedy to musical some things have been added and some lost. It's a while since I have seen the film, but I don't recall dancing girls (and I mean full-on Moulin Rouge style dancing girls) appearing in anyone's front room, nor indeed cameo appearances from Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip.  And, spoiler alert, the fate of the pig has been, how shall we say, made more suitable for family audiences. But it all hurtles along nicely, there are still references to Lady Macbeth for the the intellectually inclined and fart jokes for everyone else, and the cast gave it their all.

Star of the show is the animatronic pig - how could it be otherwise - which is better behaved than one assumes a real one would be. Indeed there are stories of Dame Maggie Smith being chased round a kitchen by one of those used in the film. The pretend pig followed the script perfectly until right at the end when, after taking its bow, it suddenly careered into the scenery and knocked one of its ears off. They should have stuck to that old showbiz rule: never work with children or radio-controlled animals.

Dubienkin

So farewell then, Richard Griffiths. It's impossible to believe that you were only 65, given that you had looked exactly the same for at least forty years.

As usual the media have ignored your best role: that of the phoenix-like Soviet Premier Dubienkin.

This, together with US stealth bombers being deployed in Korea, rather reminds me of my run-in with the Pentagon over the weapon system that might have shortened a major regional war. However, obviously I can't actually tell you about it. So - moving on...

Today, we should all wear our mushroom with pride.