Person: Wendy Cole

Animal Farm

One night, all the animals at Manor Farm gather in the barn to hear ‘Old Major’, a pig, describe a dream he had about a world where all animals live free from the tyranny of their human masters. The elderly pig dies soon after the meeting, but the animals — inspired by his philosophy of Animalism — plot a rebellion against the farmer, Jones. When Jones drunkenly forgets to feed the animals, they rise up, and Jones and his farmhands are chased away. Manor Farm is renamed Animal Farm, and the Seven Commandments of Animalism are painted on the barn wall. But what follows is far from the dream that Old Major promised…

‘All Animals Are Equal – But Some Are More Equal Than Others’

George Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm’ is a powerful and uncompromising allegory of the Russian revolution, with every character and event that takes place in his tale mirroring Russian history from October 1917 through to the Teheran Conference of 1943.

The succession of steps through which, by persuasion, propaganda, lies and force, Napoleon rises to power in ‘Animal Farm’ are a bitter parody of Josef Stalin’s ascent to dictatorship, and what Orwell saw as the ultimate betrayal of the Russian people.

A fable, a satire, a fairy story, ‘Animal Farm’ is one of the great works of English literature, and a revealing study of the effects of power.

The evocative, and by association, now chilling music chosen by the director to open the production was ‘Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Tallis’ written by Ralph Vaughan Williams. The same composer’s ‘Five variants of Dives and Lazarus’ was used to maintain the mood during the interval.

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…

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Theatre Workshop Coulsdon’s first flirtation with Shakespeare was, somewhat inevitably, ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Although it seems such a staple of the theatre, both professional and amateur, its attractions are many and not the least of those is the ability to mould it, change it and make it unique to the group and the actors performing in it. Which suits TWC. The show itself, though undeniably funny, is an oddity, if you look at it with anything more than a scant glance. The event that draws it all together is the marriage of Theseus and Hippolyta, one the legendary slayer of the Minotaur, the other the Queen of the Amazons, and yes, in some versions of the myth of Theseus, these two characters did marry. But for all their lauded provenance, here they are ciphers, showing little real character in the few lines that they have at their disposal. The four lovers bear classical Greek names, all in accord with their part in the court of Athens, but the rude mechanicals do not despite being subjects of Theseus and working within Athens. Shakespeare drops the facade for these clowns, and calls them as they are, English tradesmen. One does wonder why, in Shakespeare’s mind, this division should exist, where the nobility have exotic names and the working classes not. Was he attempting to make them more identifiable to the groundlings? We may never know.

Two of the rude mechanicals would remain rude across two further TWC productions of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Chris Argles, here showing us his ‘Bottom’, would go on to play ‘Peter Quince’ in 1996, and then ‘Tom Snout’, the tinker in 2016. Tim Young would move from playing ‘Peter Quince’, carpenter and frustrated amateur director and impresario, to ‘Snug the joiner’ in 1996. Clearly a part he enjoyed, he reprised it in 2016 too.

One other thing remained a constant. The donkey head. Created for this show by Caroline Dawe using chicken wire, papier mache and fur fabric, it adorned the heads of Chris Argles, Paul Ford and Richard Lloyd in successive productions, and remains in readiness for the next revival.

The overture to ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ was the Cello Concerto in E Minor by Edward Elgar. The interval music was ‘The Lark Ascending’ by Ralph Vaughan Williams.

All incidental music used during the production was traditional, arranged by Theatre Workshop Coulsdon, with the exception of ‘Philomel with Lullaby’, the music for which was composed by Mark Taylor.

The Christmas Cavalier

The Witchfinder-General, Roundheads and Cavaliers in a festive panto of Olde England!

From 1642 to 1651, there was a war between the King and his Parliament. Parliament won the war, and King Charles lost his head…

Set in the time when the puritan Lord Protector, Oliver Cromwell, ruled England, this lively and magical panto opens with the arrival of dastardly Witchfinder-General Nicholas Grimnasty in a local village, intent on suppressing frivolous and ungodly Christmas festivities – and rooting out a few witches at the same time!

Grimnasty and his gormless Roundhead sidekicks, Matthew Smallpiece and the Stupid brothers, soon tangle with the outrageous Dame Dumplings, driving force behind the village Christmas party! Unfortunately, it’s not long before Dame Dumplings’ lovely niece Emma Sweetly has fallen foul of the wicked Witchfinder, and is thrown into Grimnasty’s grisly dungeon.

But the Witchfinder-General’s villainy comes to an extremely sticky end, after his efforts to spoil Christmas are thwarted by an unlikely alliance of Sir Daniel Dash, a bold and gallant cavalier, a dancing bear named Bottom, and three real witches, who could almost have wandered in from a certain blasted Scottish heath…

A brisk yet enchanting pantomime, offering a traditional festive flavour of Olde England, but played out before a very appealing and colourful new historical backdrop, with lots of excellent opportunities for most attractive costumes and settings.

Santa In Space

This out-of-this-world pantomime starts in the depths of outer space, where the evil Vileun the Vile is celebrating the culmination of his plan to bring the entire Universe / Galaxy / Solar System (We don’t think he’s dreadfully bright, as he doesn’t seem to realise they’re very different things) under his dominion. His muddled mystic, Astra the Astrologer, lists all his successes, before finally telling him that the job is not yet done. The planet Earth remains unconquered. And the key to its downfall and Vileun’s ultimate success? The kidnapping of Santa Claus!

Meanwhile, in the little village of Merrydale, Dame Dangle and the village children are preparing for the upcoming seasonal celebrations when two visitors arrive. One is the Dame’s nephew, Captain Dick Daring, on leave from his regiment to visit his favourite aunt. The other is Crystal, a young lady who’s come all the way from the North Pole to speak with the village’s friendly inventor, Professor Atnas. The Professor is, of course, not what he appears, but is actually Santa Claus himself, and when Crystal informs him that he must return to the North Pole to resolve an issue with the Elves, he begins to quickly pack up his things, including his robot, Roberta.

But it’s too late. Before he can leave, Vileun and his henchmen Null and Void land their spaceship in Merrydale, and with the aid of a hypnotised Dame Dangle succeed in kidnapping the jovial giver of presents and take him back to Varbos!

Can Captain Daring, Dame Dangle, Roberta the Robot, the lovely Crystal and a rag-tag collection of village children fly to the rescue? Can they save Christmas? And the world? Of course they can!

R.U.R.

When idealistic young Helena Glory arrives at the remote island headquarters of Rossum’s Universal Robots (R.U.R.) with vague ideas about liberating the robots the company manufactures from their lives of enforced servitude, she is unprepared for what she finds. Overwhelmed by the almost evangelistic Harry Domain, she remains on the island, and inadvertently sews the seeds of her and mankind’s destruction…

Written by Čapek in 1920 and set at the end of the 20th Century, ‘R.U.R.’ premiered not on the stage in Prague as was originally intended, but with an amateur group in the far smaller town of Hradec Králové in January 1921. Ahead of its time in its depiction of human-like artificial beings, Čapek’s play introduced the word ‘Robot’ into the English language, derived from the Czech word ‘robota’ which means ‘forced labour’. In their creation, assembled from artificial bones, flesh and organs rather than mechanical parts, we would more likely refer to them as androids, or even (borrowing from Philip K Dick’s ‘Blade Runner’) ‘replicants’. The script was translated into English by Paul Selver later in 1921, and adapted for the stage by Nigel Playfair the following year, but it was far from faithful to the original. Many lines were cut, others added, a robot character removed entirely and his lines given to another. This version, or something similar to it, debuted in New York in October 1922 (featuring, in his Broadway debut, actor Spencer Tracy), and at St Martin’s Theatre in London in April 1923. Čapek complained that his original ending had been suppressed. It would not be until 1989 that a new unabridged translation, by Claudia Novack-Jones would actually appear,

Paul Ford’s first foray into directing also saw him tentatively try to adapt the script for a more modern audience. He started with a 1973 imported American edition of the script, by the Washington Square Press, of the Selver/Playfair adaptation and it was clear that what might have made sense in 1923 was jarring over sixty years on. (Dr Helman, practically the last man standing and desperately shoring up a barricade against the coming army of robot insurgents hears an explosion and says ‘The damned rascals, they’ve got bombs.’ with not so much as an exclamation mark to indicate shock or urgency.) Changes were made, but as the comments of the critic attest, he could have and should have been bolder in his alterations. However, the production did provide a showcase for the remarkable talents of Mark Taylor, who composed here a full original music score for the show, the first time he had done so, as well as performing on stage as Dr Gall.

The Frankenstein Monster Show

This inventive and exuberant play with music brings the Frankenstein story into the computer age. When the young American scientist Frank Enstein first arrives at the Victorian Gothic pile called Enstein Hall, he’s determined to sell the place and use the proceeds and the rest of his inheritance to fund his ambitions in computerised robotic systems. Housekeeper Mrs Body and Igor, still loyal to their dead master, are appalled and in an attempt to persuade the newcomer to change his mind, present him first with the notebook outlining the old master’s experiments, and then show him the laboratory, where lies Boris, the monster, the old master’s finest creation. Frank revives Boris, and is inspired to create more monsters, but ones guided by his own computerised control systems. Two dodgy Irish undertakers, Wille Burke and Willie Hare, and their scheming wife Lucretia Burkenhare (she’s married to both for tax purposes), make a deal with Frank, and soon have ‘raw materials’ problem sorted as they set up a production line. Business booms. But John B. Good, the family solicitor, has his suspicions about the strange goings on an Enstein Hall, and calls on Sherlock Holmes for help. Unfortunately he’s at least sixty years too late, and ends up with Sherlock Holmes Junior, a wheelchair-bound idiot. And then Dr Watson appears. No, not that one. This is Ruby Watson, and thankfully, she’s smart, (and pretty, or at least John thinks so) and now the three investigators head for the Hall to uncover the hideous goings-on and bring them to an end. If they can….

More Munster than Monster, this somewhat ramshackle script rode roughshod over just about every literary device it touched. Burke and Hare were stereotypical ‘Oirish’ idiots. Sherlock Holmes Jnr. was a pompous fool, outsmarted on every level by his companion, Watson. Even the villainous Enstein (with no explanation as to why the monster creator of old has a stately home in England) wasn’t that smart.

However, high points in the production included the donkey-jacketed Willie Hare lifting up tail-coated Willie Burke by the lapels only for them to come off in his hands, generating a profanity laden response from the wearer, and an overly extended dying sequence near to the close resulting in many of the cast, with and without guns, stepping onto the stage and shooting the actor to try and accelerate his demise… definitely not in the script.

Seafarer

‘No man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail; for being in a ship is being in jail, with the chance of being drowned…’

Samuel Johnson 1789

Liverpool, Bristol and Southampton, now sprawling, decaying cities, were once the proudest and busiest ports in the world. From their docks and wharves, the vast imperial trade of Victoria’s Britain was plied. Immeasurably powerful fleets put out from the ports of Plymouth and Portsmouth to protect and extend this trade; for Britain’s position of world supremacy was built on the cornerstone of her imperial wealth.

The responsibility for maintaining and defending this commerce rested squarely on the shoulders of Britain’s seamen, of the Merchant and Royal Navies. And yet the British seafarer suffered appalling hardship and danger. He worked a gruelling sixteen hour day for a pittance, lived in foul, cramped conditions, and was ill-nourished. He was the victim of disease and brutal discipline on board ship, and of parasites and charlatans in port.

The sailor, however, was a great favourite with the public, generally perceived as courageous, industrious and good-humoured. His tales of the sea and far distant outreaches of the Empire were enthralling, and his songs were brave and merry.

It is this contrast between the popular perception of the ‘Jolly’ Jack Tar, and the harsh reality of his existence, which we have attempted to highlight in ‘Seafarer’.

‘Seafarer’ is a completely original work based on a series of improvisations, carried out after weeks of research. The following books were particularly useful, and essential reading for anyone wishing to investigate the subject further.

Richard Garratt – ‘The British Sailor’

Paul Kennedy – ‘The Rise and Fall of British Naval Mastery’

John Winton – ‘Hurrah for the Life of a Sailor!’

All songs sung during the show are traditional, and arranged by Theatre Workshop Coulsdon.

The Thwarting of Baron Bolligrew

Written by Robert Bolt in 1966, this children’s play might sit a little awkwardly alongside his other, Oscar and BAFTA-winning, works, such as the screenplay for ‘Lawrence of Arabia’, ‘Doctor Zhivago’ and ‘A Man For All Seasons’. Regardless, it’s a well-written, engaging piece with a cracking storyline, as you would hope given its creator.

For many years the Duke and his loyal knights have been fighting dragons, rescuing damsels in distress, and trying to make their dukedom safe for its people. Now they’ve finally succeeded, the last dragons in the realm have been killed, and the Duke and most of his knights are happy to sit back and enjoy the peace they’ve made. However, their charter requires that this decision to rest on their laurels must be unanimous and one of their number, Sir Oblong Fitz Oblong, believes it’s their duty to continue their good work in the desolate and inhospitable wastelands of the North.

Sir Percival Smoothly-Smoothe has a way round the quandary. Ship Oblong off to a nearby island as a knight errant, tasked with defeating the island’s dragon and the equally nasty Jasper, the 15th Baron Bolligrew. Then, when he’s gone, have the vote and get the unanimous result they need to down tools and chill out.

After some persuasion, Sir Oblong leaves on his mission, and finds that taking on the Baron, his unintelligent but absurdly strong henchman Squire Blackheart, the malevolent wizard Doctor Moloch, and the gravel-voiced Black Dragon may be too much for just one man. He’s going to need help. Luckily, there just might be what he needs close at hand, however unlikely they may be…