Person: Sharolyn Longman

The Canterbury Tales (2011)

It is the 14th Century, and in the bustling courtyard of The Tabard Inn, Southwark, men and women from all walks of life gather for a pilgrimage to the cathedral at Canterbury. Friars and priests, pardoners and summoners, millers and good wives. In order to entertain these good folk, the host of the inn asks that each traveller tells a story as they make their way across Kent. And so they, and we, begin our journey.

In this joyous adaptation of Geoffrey Chaucer’s classic work by Richard Lloyd, Theatre Workshop Coulsdon present six of the best and most colourful tales, creating an exuberant and and often hilarious portrait of ordinary folk preoccupied with petty jealousies, mundane squabbles and simple pleasures. Bold and often bawdy, these tales bring home vividly just how little the English people have really changed over the last six hundred years!

The stories presented are The Nun’s Priest’s Tale, The Wife of Bath’s Tale, The Friar’s Tale, The Pardoner’s Tale, The Miller’s Tale and The Reeves Tale, neatly wrapped in an engaging background as host and landlord Harry Bailey attempts to maintain order amongst his boisterous and often wayward charges.

Chaucer (1343 – 1400) is widely considered to be the greatest English poet of the Middle Ages, and was the first poet to be buried in Poet’s Corner at Westminster Abbey. While he achieved fame during his lifetime as an author, philosopher, alchemist and astronomer, Chaucer also maintained an active career in the civil service as a bureaucrat, diplomat and courtier. His many works include ‘The Book of the Duchess’, ‘The House of Fame’, ‘The Legend of Good Women’ and ‘Troilus and Criseyde’, but it is ‘The Canterbury Tales’, in which he uses the tales to paint an ironic and critical picture of English society, for which he will always be remembered.

The Tempest

Torn from the sky!

Returning to its homeland from a royal wedding in distant Tunis, the ‘Napoli Rex’, flagship of the King of Naples’ airfleet, is pulled from the sky by a violent and unnatural storm.

The survivors find themselves scattered across a barren island populated with magical creatures and spirits, fearing for their very lives.  And behind this seeming disaster is Prospero, an exiled sorcerer seeking vengeance…

Shakespeare’s final play is his crowning glory, a tale of magic, love, humour and redemption.

Theatre Workshop Coulsdon have placed ‘The Tempest’ in a steampunk-flavoured Victorian age, where the might of an industrial revolution with its airships, guns and steam-power is confronted with forces beyond its wildest imagining…

Years ago, Prospero forsook his duties as the Duke of Milan to study the arcane arts. With his attention elsewhere, he was unprepared for the coup that saw him dragged from his position and sent out to die alongside his baby daughter, Miranda. By merest chance they survived, crash-landing on a remote and barren island in the Mediterranean, and with the help of two servants, the sprite Ariel and the twisted creature that is Caliban, Prospero lived on and plotted revenge. Now chance again plays into his hands, as those he would mete out vengeance to have been driven to the island by a tempest, their airship torn from the skies and the passengers and crew thrown down. However, he has reckoned without Miranda (now grown to womanhood) and her response to these strange new visitors, one of whom she falls in love with…

Shakespeare’s last play is here transported to a neo-Victorian setting, played out in the traverse among the broken spars and debris of his downed airship, the ‘Milano’. Prospero’s sorcery here vies with magic lanterns and steam-powered pistols in a unique take on the bard’s farewell to the stage.

The Trial

‘The Trial’ tells the tale of Josef K, a man unexpectedly arrested by an unknown authority for an unspecified crime, and the story follows his increasingly desperate attempts to negotiate a labyrinthine legal process and an untouchable, unreachable court, while never finding out what it is that he has been accused of.

Kafka started to write ‘The Trial’ in August 1914 and continued on through 1915, despite the outbreak of war. Like his other two novels he never completed it, and it was only after his death in 1924 that it was published. His haphazard method of writing saw the novel take shape across a number of different notebooks, all being used simultaneously. When Kafka’s friend Max Brod eventually persuaded him to surrender the ‘manuscript’ (Kafka had a habit of destroying his own work, which Brod was trying to prevent) he was given 161 loose pages, gathered into chapters, but no clue as to what order the chapters should be in. It does have a beginning, and though abrupt, it certainly has an end, but though Brod, and later, others, have edited the work, it remains unclear what Kafka’s true plan was.

This uncertainty has been a fertile ground for dramatic interpretation over the years. In 1962, Orson Welles filmed a version with Anthony Perkins as Josef K, while Steven Berkoff presented his own unique and experimental take in 1970, with elements of physical theatre and mime, verging on the surreal. Tom Basden, who would also go on to adapt Dario Fo’s ‘Accidental Death of an Anarchist’, presented a new version in 2010 set in modern day London called ‘Joseph K’, where the main protagonist was a City banker.

Lucy-Ann Martin’s adaptation here certainly draws inspiration from Berkoff, notably in its use of physical theatre, and the employment of an ensemble cast. As each actor moves on to another role within the story, the intention is to underline the facelessness of the authority that Josef K finds himself hopelessly and inexplicably at odds with. His relationship with those he encounters on the twisting path of the system he is forced to take is polarised. Men only serve to confuse, presenting a series of barriers or problems that prevent him from obtaining justice. Women are a weakness for him, though he seems to be endowed with some form of unexplained allure which he uses not simply to satiate his desires but advance his cause. If this makes our Josef something less than the total innocent, then perhaps this is because nobody is completely without guilt, now are they? And then the driver becomes not simply what am I charged with, but what do they know, and paranoia takes its insidious hold.

The Return Of The Three Musketeers

Twenty years on from his greatest adventure, D’Artagnan is disillusioned. Still only a lowly-paid lieutenant in the musketeers, his friends long gone, forgotten by the powerful people he once rescued from death and dishonour. But where once he saved a queen, a chance turn of events gives D’Artagnan the opportunity to save a King, and a King of England at that! But he can’t do it alone. Can he recruit his old comrades Porthos, Athos and Aramis from retirement? And can they save themselves from the vengeful agent of death that follows their every move?

Freely adapted from Alexandre Dumas’ own stirring Musketeers sequel ‘Twenty Years After’, this is a colourful new story of swashbuckling high adventure, fun and derring-do!

All for one, and one for all, once more!

There are two stories to be told here. One is the best part of two hundred years old, the other just sixteen.

1844. The French author Alexandre Dumas published ‘The Three Musketeers’ as a serial in a magazine. It was an immediate success, and a sequel came out a year later, and a third and final instalment two years after that. ‘The Three Musketeers’ seized the public’s imagination and to one degree or another, has continued to do so ever since.

The four great friends, Athos, Porthos, Aramis and the younger D’Artagnan became over the course of the books embroiled in plots and plans that changed history. Dumas was an avid historian and liked to show off to his readers how much he knew. Mind you, that didn’t stop him riding rough-shod over history when it suited the story!

It’s arguably the most successful piece of French literature ever. (Let’s draw a discreet veil over ‘Les Miserables’ please) There have been movies (lots of them, the first in 1903, the last one just last year), musicals (one part-written by P G Wodehouse of all people) and operas, television series and even cartoons. (those of a certain age may fondly remember ‘Dogtanian and the Three Muskehounds’ though others might run screaming from the room…) One such version was a play written by Willis Hall, which caught the eye of Theatre Workshop Coulsdon founder member and director Chris Argles.

1996, and TWC first comes to grips with the original action-heroes. Richard Lloyd played Athos, Mike Brown was Porthos and I played Aramis. We swashed buckles, waved swords and saved the day. Mike even ran across the stage naked (except for a large musketeer hat!) but only of course because the script demanded it… His grandmother was never quite the same after seeing it!

2011. We’re looking for a follow-up to the open-air success of ‘The Canterbury Tales’. ‘The Three Musketeers’ is suggested, but we really don’t want to revisit the same script because, well, we’ve done it before. Why don’t we do the sequel? Because no-one’s written one. ‘I’ll write one’ says I. The fact I’ve never written a play in my life before seemingly not a stumbling block. Ahem.

2012. Here we are. The play is written, we’ve taken the same three actors to play the original Three Musketeers, and that’s deliberate. The sequel to the first book was called ‘Twenty Years After’ and it’s not far off that between our productions. We’re all older. Probably a bit slower and a bit heavier, maybe even a little wiser. But are we growing old gracefully? Are the Musketeers? Probably not. But is that a bad thing? I don’t think so. Oh, and a note for any Dumas purists out there. I have taken huge liberties with the book. And if you have a problem with that, I’ll meet you outside…with my three friends! All for one, and one for all!

The Changeling

Licensed on 7 May 1622, The Changeling, by Thomas Middleton and William Rowley, is widely seen as one of the best plays of the Jacobean era (the reign of King James I). It’s a violent, baroque tale that manages to be both funny and horrific in its parallel plots.

Beatrice-Joanna – spoilt, rich, beautiful – is blinded by desire for Alsemero, but betrothed to Piracquo. To rid herself of her unwanted fiancé, she enlists Deflores – a disfigured servant who both repels and fascinates her. But Deflores has desires of his own, and Beatrice-Joanna has no idea of the terrible price he will exact.

Meanwhile, in the asylum, a pair of noblemen masquerade as lunatics to have their wicked way with the madhouse-keeper’s young wife. This comic plot holds up a mirror to the main plot, offering an alternative take on the same themes of madness and infatuation.

Who is the changeling of the title? Well superficially, it’s Antonio, one of the madhouse imposters. But the true changeling is Beatrice-Joanna – the young noblewoman who  inexplicably turns into an amoral monster. In Middleton and Rowley’s England, people would have had no hesitation in blaming witchcraft for such a sudden, total collapse of character. Including the substitution of an apparently dutiful and virtuous daughter by some evil surrogate or changeling.

The playwrights know better of course. They deftly show how a few fateful steps take an impressionable young mind from the delirium of love to dangerous obsession. But is Beatrice-Joanna deluded, deranged or simply hapless? Does she really make the fatal mistake of engaging a contract killer without understanding the nature of the contract? Is she a spoilt little rich girl, whose game of dare spirals out of control, or a calculating sociopath? This central riddle is one reason why The Changeling remains such a compelling thriller, four centuries after it was first performed.

Middleton and Rowley

Like Shakespeare, Thomas Middleton (1580-1627) was a successful jobbing playwright in the flourishing heyday of the early English theatre. He turned out dozens of plays, masques and pageants between 1602 and 1624. He collaborated with, amongst many others, Shakespeare himself, and is known to be responsible for parts of several of Shakespeare’s plays including Macbeth and The Winter’s Tale.

Middleton is generally credited with the tragic main plot of The Changeling, whilst Rowley is thought to be responsible for much of the comic sub-plot. But the hand of each man is also present in sections of the play attributed to the other. Middleton in particular had forged a style very much of his own, turning the conventional ‘aside’ into a parallel reality where characters converse with each other whilst sharing their thoughts with the audience – an intriguing subversion of the theatrical convention of his day.

Middleton was ahead of his time in his writing style too. He was capable of superb verse. But in The Changeling his dialogue is spare, gritty and workaday – more natural and immediate than Shakespeare’s. In fact, the play owes much to changes which coincided with the end of Shakespeare’s career. By the 1620’s, the outdoor Elizabethan playhouses had closed. The Changeling, first staged at The Cockpit in Drury Lane, forms part of a later genre known as ‘Revenge Tragedy’. These plays were tailored for cramped indoor theatres – hot, claustrophobic, and lit only by guttering candles. Small wonder The Changeling seems so gothic, shadowy and stifling.

That said, Middleton and Rowley’s setting of ‘Alicante’ owes very little to Spain, and a great deal  to the London the authors knew so well. With the asylum in particular, we are clearly in London’s Bedlam, and being royally entertained – as Londoners were – by madness.

Cinderella’s Puss In Boots

Take the classic story of Cinderella, add the bluff and swagger of Puss in Boots, and you get two much-loved seasonal tales woven into one sparkling festive show.

Yes, we’ve put panto favourites Cinderella and Puss on stage together for the first time, in an irreverent mash-up of two much-loved seasonal tales. That means you get two principal boys for the thigh-slapping price of one, the most deliciously appalling Ugly Sisters ever to grace the stage, and the ultimate in hissable baddies – King Rat, evil lord of the underworld. Plus, of course, Puss-in-Boots at his irresistible, swashbuckling best. Beautiful Cinderella undergoes the usual series of traumas, trials and torments – until her Ab-Fab style fairy godmothers and fashion gurus breeze in to save the day with a haute couture transformation guaranteed to catch a prince’s heart. This is a top-notch Cinderella, with just that little bit extra panto goodness thrown into the mix.

Set in, and under, the fairy-tale land of Cornucopia, ruled by good(ish) King Egbert, the action starts with something evil stirring in the darkness below, and it’s got a tail, whiskers and cheap crown…

Treasure Island (2010)

Long before Jack Sparrow was ever dreamt of, an even more irredeemable rogue bestrode the rolling quarter-deck of pirate fiction. A one-legged villain by the name of Silver…

When Robert Louis Stevenson wrote ‘Treasure Island’ in 1883, he created not only the most famous adventure story in the English language, but an entire genre. Maps marked with crosses, buried treasure chests, one-legged seafarers with parrots, tropical islands full of mystery and danger, black spots and ‘Yo-ho-ho’s – all these commonplaces of pirate fiction were entirely Stevenson’s invention. He was writing about a world 150 years before his own time, about which he knew very little. That didn’t stop him writing a thrilling story that also held a wry commentary on coming of age and the ambiguity of morality – in the maimed shape of Long John Silver – unusual for children’s literature both then and now.

In our 40th year, choosing Treasure Island for our summer, open-air production seemed both obvious and fitting. It marks the fourth time we’ve set sail with this tale of derring-do, having done so previously in 1974 and 1989, as well as spoofing it with a panto version in 1995. One tradition has remained throughout, the trademark of TWC. In the absence of female characters (with the exception of Mrs Hawkins) we have the heroes played by women and the villainous pirates played by men. Now that might sound a little strange perhaps, but believe me, it works well.

The songs in this production are traditional sea songs and shanties, a rousing accompaniment for life and adventure aboard the Hispaniola. Several hundred of these traditional songs are known, with literally thousands of versions, many blurred into hybrids of several different songs They formed a constantly evolving oral tradition passed on by seamen around the world during the great age of sail. The songs took their influences from different languages and cultures: from Gaelic and Scandinavian dialect song to Wild West ballads; from the rhythms of the South Sea Islands to Negro Spirituals. They were only ever sung on merchant ships though, not the Royal Navy, who frowned on the practice.

Traditional sea songs divide into two main types: the shanty, a chanted work song with a repetitive chorus designed to help gangs of men synchronise the heavy tasks hauling, heaving or pumping aboard ship, and the foc’sle ballad – songs composed and sung just for entertainment. The divide is far from hard and fast however, and many shanties have, over time, developed a more lyrical form.

Our band for the production, pressganged into service of course, are called ‘Ninepence Three Farthings’. Enjoy.

Dracula

A bloody, poetic and sexually-charged interpretation of the world’s most infamous horror story!

Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’ wasn’t the first Gothic Horror tale (that honour falls to Horace Walpole’s ‘The Castle of Otranto’ published over a century before) but it is, arguably, the most famous exponent of the genre, though it has stiff competition in Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’, R L Stevenson’s ‘Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mister Hyde’ and Oscar Wilde’s ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’. However, none have quite the strange sexual allure that the Transylvanian aristocrat has, even to this day. This creature, for human he most certainly isn’t, should be repulsive, but yet the opposite is true. The vampire has taken on an eerie glamour, coupled with a sense of tragedy. Hence the success of Anne Rice’s ‘Vampire Lestat’ books and the ‘Twilight’ series by Stephanie Meyer.

Of course, folkloric vampires predate Dracula by centuries, with demons showing what we would consider to be vampiric ways and practices noted by the Romans, Mesopotamians and the Ancient Greeks. But these creatures were ruddy, or purplish in colour, and bloated from the drinking of blood, a far cry from the slim, pale skinned figures we associate with the term now. And frankly a lot less sexy.

Liz Lochead is a Scottish playwright and poet who adapted ‘Dracula’ for the stage in 1985. She made a number of changes to the tale, but then reducing a novel of several hundred pages down to a workable two act play was always going to require that. Lucy Westernra and Mina Murray became sisters sharing the surname Westerman. Arthur Holmwood, also known as Lord Godalming, and American Quincey Morris, two of Lucy Westernra’s suitors, are excised from the script while Renfield’s part is expanded on. In come new characters, such as Nurses Grice and Nisbett, as well as Orderly Drinkwater, at Dr Seward’s asylum, and to add a working class voice to the narrative, Florrie Hathersage, the Westerman’s maid. Across the whole script, the language has been updated to provide a level of humour and innuendo, while focusing on female sexuality and madness.

Do the changes work? Certainly Renfield’s character, and the story, benefits from the extra time spent with him. He’s more articulate, even sympathetic. A victim who can see his own doom coming. Mina though is something less in this version. Pared back, she’s no longer the architect of Dracula’s downfall, nor is Lucy any the stronger for having been reshaped for the late 20th Century. Dracula remains however, untouched, his presence throughout underlined by over a century of cultural familiarity.

Dark Deeds at St. Mildred’s

Welcome to ‘Dark Deeds at St Trynian’s’ – a homage to the St Trinian’s books created by the cartoonist Ronald Searle (1920 – 2011) between 1941 and 1954. Searle’s cartoons were hugely popular – the antithesis on the Enid Blyton-type posh girl’s boarding school; its pupils are wicked and well-armed, and mayhem is rife. The Gothic cartoons often showed the dead bodies of girls who had been skewered with pitchforks, tortured by their classmates, or succumbed to violent team sports. Searle started to draw these cartoons whilst a prisoner of war of the Japanese. Perhaps it was his way of dealing with the unimaginable horror.

Four movies, based on Searle’s cartoons, were made between 1954 and 1966. There was a remake in 1980 and another in 2007. St Trinian’s is portrayed as an unorthodox girls school where sex, smoking, drinking and gambling aren’t on the curriculum – but they’re not exactly frowned upon either. The girls come in two categories: the Fourth Form, most closely resembling Searle’s original drawings of ink-stained, ungovernable pranksters, and the much older Sixth Form, sexually precocious to a degree that must have seemed alarming in 1954 (one of the girls is even married). The Fourth Form includes a number of much younger girls who are the most ferocious of all. The rule of thumb is that the smaller a St Trinian’s girl, the more dangerous she is – especially with a lacrosse or hockey stick in her hands.

Sadistic, cunning, dissolute, crooked, sordid and capable of any excess, the films implied that the girls were mainly the daughters of well-off gangsters, crooks, shady bookmakers and other low-lifes.

Our production is loosely based on some of the characters from the St Trinian’s books and movies, but with a wholly home-grown script and story. Firmly set in a comfy, non-specific era of post-war nostalgia sometime around the middle of the last century, it bears no resemblance to the recent ‘updated’ movies of St Trinian’s. (Sorry about that, if you were expecting Girls Aloud…)

Lords and Ladies

It’s a hot midsummer’s night in the tiny kingdom of Lancre, up in the far northern hill country of Discworld. Crop circles are turning up everywhere, bursting like raindrops, a portent of wayward magic leaking into the land from between the standing stones known as ‘The Dancers’.

Magrat Garlick, witch, is getting married in the morning – to King Verence of Lancre no less. The wizards of the Unseen University are journeying north from the great city of Ankh-Morpork to bless the union, and the Lancre All-Comers Morris Team have been lined up to stage a rustic entertainment for the happy couple. In short, everything should be going like a dream.

But all is not well in Lancre. Elves, long banished from the human realm are pushing at the iron boundaries of their barren winter land, bringing with them all those things traditionally associated with the magical, glittering realm of faerie: cruelty, kidnapping, malice and murder.

‘The Dancers’ form the gateway between the two worlds, and for many years, Granny Weatherwax and her tiny argumentative coven have worked to keep that portal tightly closed. But now a new coven, led by the young, ambitious and wilful Diamanda (real name Lucy Tockley, but Diamanda sounds so much better) are determined to overturn the old order…

And when the Lancre morris team gets seriously drunk on a fairy mound, all Hell is ready to break loose. In short, it’s a festival of dwarves, wizards, trolls, morris dancers – plus an orang-utan, with a fair helping of hey-nonny-nonny and blood all over the place… We hope you enjoy tonight’s performance!

A big thank you to Debbie Bradshaw and Katy Tupholme at Bluetree Design and Print of Rotherham for designing our posters for the production, and to Mark Lewis and Nick Hewson at Mastercolour of Tunbridge Wells for printing them.

‘Lords and Ladies’ (1992) is adapted from the comic fantasy novel by prolific author Terry Pratchett, his fourteenth set on Discworld, and the fourth to feature the Lancre coven of witches led by the redoubtable Esmerelda ‘Esme’ Weatherwax, a character who Pratchett clearly enjoyed revisiting. Astonishingly successful, he sold over 100 million copies of his books, forty-one of which were Discworld novels, and he was awarded first the OBE in 1998 and then a knighthood in 2009. He died at the age 66, from complications relating to Alzheimer’s Disease, which he had been diagnosed with in 2007.
 
Following on from ‘Wyrd Sisters’ in 1995 and ‘Mort’ in 1997, ‘Lords and Ladies’ is the third stage adaptation of a Discworld novel that Theatre Workshop Coulsdon have undertaken, and any similarities to Shakespeare’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ are purely intentional. Nor is it a coincidence that all three have been directed by Mike Brown.