Robin Beadle – Theatre Workshop Coulsdon

Dazzle

In a world of multi-million dollar science-fiction movies, it’s a brave amateur theatre group who takes on a supposed ‘out of this world’ musical play that was intended to parody the much-loved TV series (and subsequent movies) of ‘Star Trek’. John Gardiner also wrote ‘The Dracula Spectacula’ which Workshop performed back in 1977, and would again, no doubt (at least in part) why Chris Argles chose it to direct. However, like its predecessor, the story is only very loosely based on its source material.

At some point in a far-flung future, Sam Galactic of the Star Blade Squadron is welcomed as a hero by Sekurikor, the President of Homeworld, and entrusted with his first command, that of the starship Sunburster One. He and his crew are then given the relatively mundane task of taking the president’s daughter, Dazzle Star, to a finishing school on Procyon. En route, they are intercepted by a Red Star vessel commanded by Big Olga, and then have Dazzle Star kidnapped by spacefaring Irish pirates, before finding out the true purpose of the mission. To complete it, and guarantee the future of mankind, Sam and Dazzle Star must throw themselves back in time to the 1960’s and survive an unlikely encounter with a greasy, leather-clad motorcycle gang led by the daunting Sue Zuki.

Of course, that’s only how it started out. Though the story may have remained much the same, Workshop took exception to a lot of the treatment meted out to the various characters. In the script, the ship’s doctor inexplicably sounded like one-time world champion boxer Muhammad Ali. That went. The random Irish pirates were ditched in favour of the classic Trek villains, Klingons, with all the gags that you can imagine the name entails, and their song became a spoof of ‘Pink Elephants On Parade’ from Walt Disney’s ‘Dumbo’ (Why? Ask Mark Taylor. But it was great fun.).The captain developed a middle initial to become Sam T Galactic. The ship lost a number and gained a ‘USS’ prefix, and the set of the ship’s bridge was as close to an exact copy of the original Enterprise as our limited budget could manage. The wardrobe guidelines were thrown out too, and in came fairly faithful reproductions of the classic Starfleet uniforms.

We boldly went where Samuel French didn’t expect us to go.

The Recruiting Officer (1992)

It’s been said that ‘The Recruiting Officer’ reflects the warm afterglow of Blenheim’, and certainly, for a play written in a time of war, it is a confident and optimistic work. The War of the Spanish Succession had begun in May 1702, the latest in a series of European wars triggered by the ambitions of Louis XIV, ‘The Sun King’, ruler of France. Queen Anne had succeeded to the throne of England, Scotland and Ireland just two months previously, and she immediately appointed the John Churchill, the Earl of Marlborough, as the Captain-General of her armies. As war began, Marlborough was made supreme commander of the combined Anglo-Dutch army, and the campaign began well for him. So well that in December 1702, Queen Anne made him a Duke. The apex of his success however, lay at Blenheim, in Bavaria, on 13 August 1704, where a masterclass of planning and logistics paired with tactical and operational brilliance saw his forces defeat the Franco-Bavarian army so heavily that Bavaria was no longer capable of continuing the war. Patriotic fervour reached a crescendo, with even his enemies at court acknowledging the scale of his triumph. The Queen gave him the royal manor of Woodstock, on which Blenheim Palace would be built. And it is into this atmosphere that the play invites its audience.

George Farquhar, in 1704, was a soldier, having taken a commission as a Lieutenant of Grenadiers in the Earl of Orrery’s Infantry Regiment as a means of earning money. His recent plays had been unsuccessful, and he’d married a woman the previous year who already had three children from a prior marriage. He was practically penniless. That summer, his duties took him to Shrewsbury for a recruitment drive, and it was his experiences there that led to his writing of ‘The Recruiting Officer’. Supposedly he even wrote it in Shrewsbury, while staying in his lodgings at The Raven Inn.

The play, when it opened on the 8 April 1706 was a huge and immediate success, but his share of the income from the play was barely enough to cover his outstanding debts. Worse, he had contracted tuberculosis, and had to resign his commission in the army. Weakened by illness, he wrote one last play, ‘The Beaux Stratagem’ in just six weeks during the autumn of that year, and it opened on Drury Lane in March 1707 to universal acclaim. Sadly, its success came too late, and in May 1707 he died, aged just 30 years old.

‘The Recruiting Officer’, played in the traverse along the length of the main hall at the Coulsdon Youth and Social Centre, turned out to be the last, to date, summer production to take place there. From the following summer of 1993, Theatre Workshop Coulsdon would take its shows out into the open air. ‘The Recruiting Officer’ too would see the open air, being revisited by the group only six years on, in 1998.

Bugsy Malone

Based on the 1976 movie written and directed by Alan Parker, ‘Bugsy Malone’ is a comedy / musical about gangsters, an unlikely combination.

Set in New York during the prohibition era, ‘Fat’ Sam Staccetto runs a criminal empire, running illicit sarsaparilla and other rackets, as well as the ‘Grand Slam’ Speakeasy. When Roxy Robinson, one of Sam’s best men, is taken out by rapid-fire, whipped-cream shooting ‘Splurge’ guns, Staccetto puts the blame on the up-and-coming rival gang boss Dandy Dan, and all too quickly he’s proven right. Soon the city is gripped by a major gang war, and caught in the middle is Bugsy Malone, a none-too-successful boxing promoter, written off by Sam as ‘a nice guy…but a little too popular with the broads’. Bugsy has fallen for would-be singing star Blousey Brown, and between them they plan to leave town and head for California, but there’s the little matter of raising the money for the train tickets…

Mike Brown’s first stab at direction brought in a wealth of new young talent, with the ‘veterans’ dropped back to supporting and character roles. Containing big ensemble singalong numbers like ‘Fat Sam’s Grand Slam’, ballads such as ‘I’m Feeling Fine’ and ‘Ordinary Fool’ from Blousey Brown (Rachel Handler), not to mention ‘My Name Is Talullah’ from Kimberley Argles’ eponymous speakeasy chanteuse, the production provided a rousing evening’s entertainment and a springboard for Workshop’s younger talent.

Smut’s Saga, or Santa and the Vikings!

Panto Viking fun. Nordic myth runs riot: valkyries, trolls, dwarves – and Father Christmas!

Long centuries divide the epic Norse saga from traditional pantomime, but the two genres share some similarities. Both are ritual entertainments in which time-honoured tales of derring-do, featuring a habitual cast of larger than life characters, are performed to delight a deeply involved audience.

This is an epic Norse saga set in a land of icy fjords and cold, grey seas. A tale of longships and trolls, Valkyries and Valhalla – but incorporating all the essential ingredients of traditional panto. Boundless audience participation, corny double-entendres, ingenious special effects, men dressed up as women, women dressed up as men. And all with the added bonus of a new story set against the vivid backdrop of Norse tradition – with no opportunity missed to exploit every Viking gag imaginable!

Wicked Viking Jarl, Smut the Smug, crosses the northern sea to ravage the coast of England, only to encounter rival Viking, Svein, Prince of the Blue Fjords, searching England for his Princess bride. The villain flees with no booty, except for three exceedingly naughty children, Tum, Dickon and Harald. But Smut is pursued back to his lair in Smutland by the children’s outraged and outrageous guardian, the indomitable Dame Dustpan, joined by Prince Svein, who agrees to help rescue the children in return for help tracking down his princess. But before they can complete their quest, our heroes have to outwit the monstrous Stoneheart, Lord of the Rock Trolls, and deal with Smut’s dotty but deadly accomplice, the witch, Helga Forkbeard.

Complete with mountains and fjords, dragonships, dwarves and giants, not to mention Santa Claus, the whole rich tapestry of Viking folklore is here. Skilfully blended with the enchantment, slapstick and audience participation of traditional pantomime.

Macbeth

The ‘Scottish’ play… or so some in the business call ‘Macbeth’, supposedly because of some ill-luck that follows the play around. We don’t believe it. The fact that Paul, who had just been cast as Macbeth himself, fell while running for a bus and broke his arm, was purely coincidence.

But putting superstition aside, what is ‘Macbeth’? Viewed from one perspective, it’s a tragedy, where a good man, a good soldier, finds himself coerced into making appalling decisions that ultimately lead to he and his wife’s death. Towards the end, reviewing the bloody path he’s taken, he is saddened but no less determined to see the story through to what he believes ultimately will be a victorious end, only to find that victory dashed from his blood-stained hands by a question of semantics. Taking another view, it’s a history. Macbeth was indeed King of Alba (Scotland), from 1040 to 1057, but the real man was no tyrant seizing the throne through murder and deception. Macbethad mac Findlaech, or Macbeth MacFinlay as the name is Anglicised, was the Mormaer (Earl) of Moray when King Duncan I led an army against him. Duncan died in battle, and Macbeth succeeded to the throne, where he stayed, unchallenged, for seventeen years. ‘The Red King’ as he was known, was regarded as a generous man, and even made a pilgrimage to Rome in 1050. However, Macbeth died of wounds incurred at the battle of Lumphanan in 1057, at the hands of King Duncan’s son Malcolm, and Macbeth’s son Lulach was assassinated the following year, giving Malcolm the throne. King James VI of Scotland claimed a bloodline from Malcolm, so perhaps it’s not entirely surprising to find Macbeth’s character so sorely abused. Shakespeare knew his audience.

The photoshoot for Theatre Workshop Coulsdon’s production took place at Bodiam Castle, where, in those days, they didn’t mind a large group of people turning up in the car park to change into studded leatherette armour and start waving swords. From main gates to battlements we posed, looking suitably mean and moody, as befitted the production. Then it was decided that we should attempt a more active series of shots. Gathered at the main gatehouse, we would wait for the signal and then charge toward photographer Mark Hobbs. On the second run, Mark was joined by one or two camera-wielding tourists, on the third, several more. On the fourth and final, it seemed like we had a coach load of them. Fascinating to think that in a number of old photo albums scattered across some part the globe, the cast of TWC’s ‘Macbeth’ is immortalised, and those tourists still have no idea what on earth they had photographed.

Robin Hood – The Truth Behind The Green Tights

“Feared by the bad, loved by the good” goes the song about Robin Hood, but in the case of Albert Ross, the distinction is not quite so clear-cut. For Albert is a coward, transferring his allegiance from Merry Men to Sheriff and back again at the drop of a hat – or rather, at the point of a sword. All of which lands Albert, his wife, Robin and Maid Marian in some very awkward situations…

There are a number of extraordinarily brilliant adaptations of the story of Robin Hood. From Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone’s still remarkable 1938 Hollywood movie ‘The Adventures of Robin Hood’, through to Michael Praed’s Celtic/pagan-tinged ‘Robin of Sherwood on TV from 1984 to 1986. ‘Robin Hood – The Truth Behind the Green Tights’ is not one of them. Written by David Neilson in 1984 and published the following year, the inclusion of ‘Will Scargill’ as a militant trade unionist member of the Merry Men may have had them rolling in the aisles then, when the Miners’ strike was fresh in the memory, but just a few years on that cutting edge topicality had been blunted beyond repair.

The inclusion of an everyman character into the mythical world of the legendary arboreal bandit could also have been a terrific idea, and indeed might still be one, but ‘Albert Ross’ with his out of place and not desperately funny name (Albert Ross / Albatross. Geddit?) was not it.

Tim did however provide a real moment of drama, a rarity in this show. During rehearsals with Richard and Paul as Gisbourne and The Sheriff, Tim stepped onto the thrust at the front of the stage only for it to collapse under him. Luckily the two others were right next to Tim, and caught him, one on either side, preventing his fall to the hall floor below. After all, we didn’t want to damage the parquet flooring…