Jonathan Wales – Page 2 – Theatre Workshop Coulsdon

The Wind in the Willows

For our eleventh summer production, staged in the open air at The Woodman, we’ve picked a classic of children’s literature ‘The Wind in the Willows’, based on the 1908 book by Kenneth Grahame.

There’s not a great deal one can say about ‘The Wind in the Willows’. Almost everybody is familiar with the adventures of Toad, Ratty. Mole, Badger and co., either because they’ve read the book, or at least they think they have. It’s certainly amongst the most widely loved of books – a rural riverbank idyll of friendship and innocence which seems to strike some peculiarly English sentimental chord.

Maybe it’s the little furry animals. Perhaps, viewed through the prism of history, the modest, meandering adventures of Rat and Mole, set as they are in an evocative pastoral England where good manners and tranquillity are only occasionally disturbed by the vainglorious antics of a certain ‘Nouveau Riche’ amphibian, genuinely do call to mind an time of lost innocence and comfortably parochial concerns. An England before the cataclysm of The Great War, and all the horrors of the industrialised, globalised conflicts that have occurred since.

However, ‘The Wind in the Willows’ doesn’t simply hark back to a bygone age. It presages the uncomfortable shape of things to come as Grahame saw them in 1908 – the ‘menace’ of the motor car for instance, and the upheaval of the deferential norms of polite society, where Wild Wooders and other assorted ‘lower orders’ simply don’t seem to know their place any more, and are starting, as Ratty says, ‘to break out’.

Much of the appeal lies in the story’s great comic set pieces, its sympathetic characters and larger than life caricatures such as the irrepressible Toad. Appalling amoral and utterly incorrigible, he’s become a firm favourite on stage for much of the twentieth century, mostly due to A.A. Milne’s ‘Toad of Toad Hall’, the first and most enduring of the many adaptations that the story has undergone.

That said, we’re actually using the more recent (1990) adaptation by Alan Bennett, with a few choice embellishments of our own. Some critics have said that Bennett’s version is somehow truer to the book than Milne’s classic, but if you watch our show closely, it’s clear that Bennett’s voice can be heard intermixed with that of Grahame’s. Regardless, as Mr Toad so succinctly put it, ‘Poop Poop!’.

Return To The Forbidden Planet

Since its debut in an inflatable tent on Blackheath back in May 1983, this strange, hybrid ‘juke-box’ musical, ‘Return to the Forbidden Planet’, has acquired something of a cult following, similar in some ways to its far raunchier predecessor ‘The Rocky Horror Show’. The Bubble Theatre Company used a cast of ten who acted, sang and played all the instruments. For a number of reasons, TWC have decided to spread the workload a bit further.

Writer and director Bob Carlton took as his inspiration the 1956 science fiction movie ‘Forbidden Planet’ (Starring Leslie Neilsen as John J Adams, commander of the United Planets starship ‘C-57D’), itself drawn on loosely on William Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’. He’s then plundered several of the Bard’s works for dialogue, and then added a score composed of numerous songs from the 1950s and 1960s, such as ‘Wipe Out’, ‘Great Balls of Fire’, ‘Shakin’ All Over’, ‘Good Vibrations’, ‘Oh, Pretty Woman’ and ‘Born to be Wild’. It probably shouldn’t work. The story only just about makes sense. But is it fun? Heck, yeah!

So join Captain Tempest, commander of the starship ‘Albatross’, and his crew, on a routine scientific survey flight across the stars that becomes anything but routine. A meteor shower drives the ship down toward the planet D’Illyria, where they encounter the enigmatic Doctor Prospero and his daughter Miranda, along with Ariel the robot. They have been marooned on the planet for years, having been sent into space by Prospero’s scheming wife Gloria, but now they are rescued, and everything will be fine. Won’t it?

Warning. As passengers on the ‘Albatross’, you will be required, when the order is given, to undertake the Reverse Polarity manoeuvre to ensure the ongoing safety of the ship.

Step 1 Put both your hands in the air

Step 2 Place your hands on the top of your head

Step 3 Press, using a downward motion, several times

Step 4 On the command ‘Polarity Reverse!’, equalise the external equilibrium by quickly raising both hands and arms and exhaling thus – ‘Phewwwww!!’

The Adventures Of Tom Jones

Back in 1746, when Henry Fielding’s ‘Tom Jones’ was first published, there was an uproar amongst polite society. Why? Because Fielding’s biting satire painted a very unlovely picture indeed. Polite society was, in fact, anything but! Fielding’s masterwork wasn’t just a hatchet-job though. It was brilliantly funny, a rollicking comedy tale told over two hundred chapters (!), intricately plotted and with probably as many characters. There was depth too, with Fielding using the smokescreen of humour to discourse long and loud on such subjects as politics, philosophy, morality and religion.

All of which may be wonderful for a quiet Sunday afternoon’s reading, but for a dramatic evening’s entertainment, it just won’t do. What we want, nay, what we need, is a full-blown eighteenth century romp, full of colourful costumes and no less colourful characters, so with apologies to Mr Fielding, he’s been rather hijacked.

Into the heady mix have been brought characters and situations from other playwrights, whose swagger matches the feel and atmosphere of the base material. George Farqhuar provides the landlord Boniface and the roguish highwayman Gibbett for instance, both characters and situation taken from ‘The Beaux Stratagem’ (with just a dash of MacHeath from John Gay’s ‘The Beggar’s Opera’ of 1728). The recruiting sergeant’s opening speech is taken from Farqhuar’s ‘The Recruiting Officer’, and if Farqhuar’s highwayman is infinitely better character than Fielding’s own take, then the two recruiting sergeants are strangely similar. The rascally recruiters may possibly have a been a familiar stereotype and both authors took delight in playing with it.

So, literary fidelity you don’t get. A number of Fielding’s characters have been merged, others ejected wholly. What you do get is an evocative venture into eighteenth century England, following Tom Jones as he looks to find his fortune, leaving his numerous indiscretions behind him and with bold new exploits tantalisingly awaiting just over the next sun-lit hill. Enjoy.

The Mummy – The Panto

A brand-new and original pantomime from the fevered imagination of Mark Taylor, who wrote the script, directed the show and the music as well as played piano and keyboards. That’s dedication. Or possibly he’s just a control freak. Either way, this unique tale follows the adventures of a daring expedition into Egypt, in search of the tomb of Imhotep, lost to history thousands of years ago. Professor Pottering and Rose Garden not only have the threat of the evil Ardet Bey to contend with, and the curse that surrounds the long-dead ancient Egyptian ruler, but Mrs Beryl Pie’n’mash, foisted upon them by the needs of a pantomime to contain at least one man dressed as a woman with no dress sense and make-up applied in the dark with a trowel. There is nothing like this Dame.

Brokers men Muk-Itup and Kok-itup are on hand to help carry out Ardet Bey’s malicious wishes, but incompetently, of course, and there’s a four piece band to accompany a dozen songs all hand-picked and adapted to amuse and entertain.

All in all, a trip to the sun-scorched desert by the banks of the Nile with Theatre Workshop Coulsdon is a great way to spend a cold December evening.

Hamlet

Once upon a time there lived a Prince Amleth, whose father, the King of Jutland, was killed by his own brother, the prince’s uncle…

This was a story told by the wonderfully named Saxo Grammaticus, a thirteenth century Danish historian. The tale was picked up in the mid-1500s by Matteo Bandello, an Italian writer of short stories, and adapted to his needs, and then the French writer and translator, Francois de Belleforest, took Bandello’s version and did much the same in 1570. He expanded the original story in his version and introduced the main character’s famous melancholia, and it’s almost certain that Shakespeare took his inspiration for Hamlet from this version, translated into English. (‘Cymbeline’, ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ and ‘Romeo and Juliet’ almost certainly trace their roots in much the same way, as does John Webster’s ‘The Duchess of Malfi’.).

Shakespeare’s play was published in 1601, though it had been in existence, and performed, before then. It’s even thought that a early version of it existed as far back as 1589, written by either playwright Thomas Kyd or Shakespeare himself, but the script has been lost. It’s thought that the ‘Ghost’ made its debut in this version, but to date, that remains unproven.

Our script is not as Shakespeare wrote it. It’s simply far too long for our needs. Branagh’s film adaptation (1996) retained every word and ran for over four hours and a standard stage version will easily run to three and a half. In our version we’ve edited the text significantly, taking out fully a third of what was there. However, we’ve not been so foolish as to endanger the story proper. The key plot components, important speeches and oh, so quotable lines are all there. Gone are many of the political aspects, and (purists look away now) some of the flights of poetic fancy. We believe we’ve struck the proper balance here between art and comfort. We’ll leave the decision as to whether we called it right down to you.

‘Hamlet’ is part of the English revenge play tradition. A crime or wrong-doing has taken place and the drama proceeds from the protagonist/s attempting to seek some form of justice, either by simply disclosing the offence or exacting revenge upon the perpetrator. The history of revenge plays goes back at least as far as Aeschylus and his Oresteian trilogy in 500BC, which were translated into Latin by Seneca half a millennia later and from Latin into English over a thousand years after that. These then provided the model from which English playwrights would craft their own stories. Thomas Kyd’s ‘The Spanish Tragedie’ (1588), John Marston’s ‘Antonio’s Revenge’ (1599), Cyril Tourneur’s ‘The Revenger’s Tragedy (1607) are classics of their kind. Of all of them, however, ‘Hamlet’ remains the exemplar, for its depth, its questioning of the human condition, its ability, centuries on, to make itself so clearly understood.

A final note. In Old Norse, in which the original tale was told, the name ‘Amleth’ meant ‘Not sane’. Which of course throws into question any and all of the protagonist’s considerations and actions. Perhaps think on that.

The Three Musketeers – Le Panteau

Our pantomime version of ‘Treasure Island’ was not only immense fun for us to do, but proved to be a big hit, not just here in Coulsdon but in the wider world of amateur theatre. In the two years since its publication, there have been over 60 productions of our tongue-in-cheek swashbuckling tale!

So, what better reason to give another classic story of adventure and derring-do the pantomime treatment. Like ‘Treasure Island’, ‘The Three Musketeers’ transcends age and generations, and has slipped across the border from literature into folklore. Written originally in 1844, there have been so many adaptations over the years, across so many media, that people who are perfectly familiar with the characters, the plot and the musketeers’ bold call to arms, have never read so much as a word of Alexandre Dumas’ original tale. Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D’Artagnan are no longer confined to the printed page, they are creatures of myth, with a life all their own.

So, our pantomime is not so much a spoof of the book, as a pastiche of the very idea of ‘The Three Musketeers’, only taking those parts of the plot and the characters that easily lend themselves to being funny. Yes, it does bear some resemblance to the original, but only very loosely (probably about as much as the usual Hollywood treatment). One very significant difference to most versions is that in ours, D’Artagnan and the other gallant comrades in arms are all played by women.

It’s our opinion that the female of the species can swashbuckle as well any male, but rarely are they given the chance. Well, here’s that chance, and alongside Dame D’Artagnan (the would-be musketeer’s aunt) and a pantomime snail (yes, really) they will fight for honour, justice and outright silliness, along with some excellent songs.

‘All for one, and one for all!’*

*For the record, Dumas may have used this as the Musketeers motto and made it famous, but guess who wrote it and used it first? Yep, William Shakespeare, in his narrative poem of 1594, ‘The Rape of Lucrece’. We’ll not be making a panto out of that.

The Merry Wives of Windsor

‘The Merry Wives of Windsor’ is one of Shakespeare’s more unusual comedies. No strange land for this one for a start. No far-flung Illyria, exotic Messina or Syracuse, but instead the action centres round The Garter Inn in Windsor. A real place no less, and one that stands to this day. Similarly, the Princes, Dukes and sundry other nobles that inhabit so many of his tales are notable by their complete absence, replaced by the title-less and newly prosperous middle classes. The only knight of the realm that features is the rascally, roguish Sir John Falstaff, a knave who sets out with poor intentions to fool the good wives of Windsor out of money, but fails spectacularly at every turn.

It is said that the character of Falstaff was one that Queen Elizabeth herself was most fond of. He appeared first in Henry IV Part One, and again in Henry IV Part Two, a portly, aging disreputable sot, too fond of his drink and of cheap women, forever lacking in funds. Quick to borrow, never to repay, and cowardly to boot, Falstaff does retain a certain charm and zest for life, and it’s this, for a time, that endears him to Prince Hal. However, when the prince becomes the King, all his former life is left behind, including Falstaff. In Henry V, Mistress Quickly delivers a eulogy outlining the circumstances of his death, and there, one might suppose, was the end of him. If a queen commands though, a humble playwright must write, and so, two years after his death, Sir John Falstaff lived again.

So ‘The Merry Wives…’ is what we would call today a ‘prequel’. Reunited with his low-life comrades, Pistol, Nym and Bardolph (the latter two also dying in Henry V, executed for looting), Falstaff unknowingly engages in a battle of wits with Mistress Page and Mistress Ford and finds himself distinctly unarmed, or at least badly under-gunned. Unlike the bittersweet nature of his antics in the histories though, these adventures are purely comedy, descending almost into farce. It dispenses with the oft-used conventions of romantic comedy, such as the mistaken identity, the flirtatious wordplay, the lovesick entanglements, and replaces them with Falstaff, the aging would-be suitor and lothario (supremely lacking in self-awareness) falling for the tricks being being played on him. In parallel, middle-aged, middle-class Francis Ford, consumed with ill-founded jealousy, repeatedly makes a fool of himself while attempting to prove, vainly, his wife an adulterer.

It’s funny, but this, undoubtedly the most original of Shakespeare’s works, drawing on no ancient text or foreign translation, is looked down upon by numerous scholars of the Bard. They seem to forget that the texts weren’t designed to be pored over, dissected and examined by fusty literary experts. It was created to have life on the stage, uproarious, physical life as popular entertainment.

And that is what you have before you. Enjoy.

Abigail’s Party

Somewhere on the London side of Essex, Beverley and Laurence Moss are holding a drinks party for their new neighbours, Angela Cooper and her husband Tony, who moved in just two weeks ago. They also invite divorcee Susan, whose 15-year-old daughter, Abigail, is holding her first teenage party next door.

Beverley, an ex-department store cosmetics demonstrator with a love of Demis Roussos records, desperately tries to impress her guests, forcing cigarettes and drink on them while continually clashing with her less flamboyant estate agent husband, Laurence. He’s in her bad books, arriving back home late from work, only just before the guests appeared. Laurence aspires to better things, even if he doesn’t quite understand them, and has decorated their house with Van Gogh and Lowry prints, as well as a leather bound collection of Shakespeare that’s there to be seen, not read.

Quietly spoken, verging on taciturn Tony, an ex-Crystal Palace football player, is in computing and his wife, the seemingly childlike and cheerfully tactless Angela, is a nurse. The house purchase has been a bit of stretch for them financially, and they’re feeling the pinch.

Sue is a longstanding resident, quiet, conventional and ill-at-ease, having misunderstood the invitation and not ‘dressed up’. Expecting food, she finds herself becoming more and more hungry as the evening progresses but tries to keep the hunger at bay by eating peanuts. The constant round of drink ‘top-ups’ is also making her feel unwell.

As the evening progresses and the drink flows, things become… interesting.

Mike Leigh’s play debuted in April 1977 at the Hampstead Theatre and was an instant success, spawning a revival that same summer which was a sell out. Quick to spot an easy win, the BBC filmed it in the autumn, and it was broadcast that November as a ‘Play for Today’.

A suburban situation comedy of manners, and a satire on the tastes of the the new middle classes of the 1970s, it evolved from a series of improvisations in which the actors played the characters but without knowing what events would take place while they did so. The various back stories were created by the original cast, drawing on their own experiences. For instance, John Salthouse, who played Tony, had been a professional footballer.

It has become something of a period piece, but is no less funny for all that.

The Fairy Godfather

In 1972, Francis Ford Coppola gave us the gangster epic ‘The Godfather’. Set in 1940’s New York, it centred on the criminal empire of the Corleone family, led by Marlon Brando’s iconic Don Corleone, and it single-handedly set the tone for American Mafia/Mob/Gangster movies to follow ever since. Nowhere did it say anything about pantomimes.

Richard Lloyd made us an offer we couldn’t refuse. He’d written a pantomime that less than delicately mashed up a bucket of well-used mafia gangster tropes, spread them over a comedy base, added some spicy panto sauce and served them up with side order of rollicking good songs, finishing with a rousing (everybody join in!) rendition of ‘That’s Amore!’. There are good fairies, evil villains, a dame and a gondola-full of Italian cheese gags. You just have to look at the cast list.

So we had to put it on. Really, we had to. And now you gotta to watch it, capisce?

Cut yourself in for a pizza the action tonight.

Twelfth Night (1999)

What is Twelfth night? Well, it is, traditionally, the last night of the twelve days of Christmas, and falls on either the 5th or 6th of January, depending on whether you start counting on Christmas Day or Boxing Day. A Christian festival, superstition has it that leaving your decorations up after the twelfth night is unlucky, and other customs surrounding the date include singing carols, eating cake and having your house blessed. None of which are remotely connected to Shakespeare’s play of the same name. The source of its naming remains a mystery, though some make tenuous links to the awarding of the title ‘Lord of Misrule’ and the wild abandon or ‘a world turned upside down’ which may possibly have formed part of the festivities on the day during Elizabethan times. However, that’s somewhat overselling the action contained within the play.

What we have is a resourceful heroine, Viola, who having been shipwrecked and washed up on the shores of an unknown land, adopts the masculine persona ‘Cesario’, to enhance her chances of survival. She falls into the employ of Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, who is hopelessly smitten with the Countess Olivia, a woman in mourning for her recently departed brother. Orsino uses Cesario as a go-between to advance his romantic case, but unfortunately Olivia falls for Cesario instead. Worse still, Viola has become infatuated with Orsino, but can’t do anything because she’s pretending to be a man.

Olivia’s household is a place overrun with guests and servants. The steward, Malvolio, is a pompous ass disliked by all. Sir Toby Belch, Olivia’s uncle seems to be a permanent resident, drinking and carousing with his frankly gormless associate Sir Andrew Aguecheek, and flirting with Maria, one of the sharper of Olivia’s housemaids. It is she who formulates a plan, with the two dissolute knights, to take Malvolio down a peg or two by persuading the steward that Olivia secretly loves him.

And into all this walks Sebastian, Viola’s identical twin brother. Thought drowned by his sister, he did in fact survive the shipwreck and is now endlessly confused by people referring to him, and more, as Cesario…

TWC have, somewhat inevitably, been forced to cut back some of the script. Feste, Olivia’s fool or jester, is mainly there to add even more of a comic touch to this already amusing situation. Sadly, what was undoubtedly hilarious to the groundlings in 1602 falls these days on ears that have no understanding of the references being used, and so much of his ‘stand-up routine’ has been excluded. We present ‘Twelfth Night’ as we guess it was intended to be played – an exhilarating and romantic romp, shot through with a vein of wistful lyricism, delivered with exuberance and delight. The alternative title for the play is ‘What you will’, seemingly indicating that Shakespeare was happy to leave the title to the preference of the audience. Whatever you call it, it remains one of his funniest romantic comedies. Enjoy.