Tag Archives: SIan Phillips

Review – Summer 1954, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 23rd January 2025

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In the summer of 1954, Terence Rattigan was the darling of British theatre. The year before, his successful The Deep Blue Sea finished its run at the Duchess Theatre, and The Sleeping Prince opened at the Phoenix. His new production, two one-act plays by the name of Separate Tables would open at the St James’ Theatre in September. He’d ride the crest of this wave for a little longer until John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger reset the theatre scene in 1956, and Rattigan would be consigned to the drawer marked Fuddy-Duddy for many years.

But, as James Dacre’s beautifully staged and paced Summer 1954 reveals, Rattigan wrote plays of extraordinary quality. There’s never an unnecessary line or an incidental character; everything is neatly planned and tightly delivered. Summer 1954 unites one of the Separate Tables, Table Number Seven – where hotel resident Major Pollock falls into disgrace because of his indecent behaviour – with his hard-hitting 1948 one act play, The Browning Version, relating what happens on the last day of Greek master Andrew Crocker-Harris’ tenure at a public school.

Combining these two one-act plays gives a modern audience a chance to see Rattigan in the raw; at once showing both the comedy and tragedy of cruelty, isolation, and a great deal more besides. It also uses Rattigan’s original version of Major Pollock’s indecent transgression of the law, rather than the version that reached the stage of the St James’ – and indeed remained as part of Separate Tables for decades after. There’s no need to worry about what the Lord Chamberlain might disagree with today, after all.

It’s a bold move by James Dacre as the plays arguably work better as part of their original line-ups; especially Table Number Seven which is the second part of Separate Tables and develops some of the characters that we meet in the first part, Table by the Window. The Browning Version was originally staged as the first part of Playbill, which ended with the hilarious Harlequinade, a lighthearted farce which massages away all the sting of the first play. Ending Summer 1954 with The Browning Version sends the audience home with an uncomfortable range of challenges, rather than with a comedy riot.

However, Rattigan’s writing is so deliciously controlled, and creates some truly repressed and displaced characters, hiding away their emotions and realities until their internal pressure cookers explode. You might be expecting some light drawing-room comedy, but this double bill packs a punch. And Dacre’s simple and unobtrusive direction allows the characters and language to come to the fore, telling their quiet, domestic, but riveting stories to the extent that you could hear a pin drop in the packed rows of Chichester’s Festival Theatre.

The cast of Table Number Seven is led by Sian Phillips, giving us a wonderful portrayal of the demanding, withering and manipulative Mrs Railton-Bell. Using masterful verbal tones and facial expressions, she gives a powerful performance of someone who revels in someone else’s misfortune, dominates her mousey daughter, and tries to pay out on anyone who Isn’t Like Her. The object of her ire is Nathaniel Parker’s Major Pollock, breezily spinning his lies and attempting to cover up his mistakes because he doesn’t like who he is. There are also some excellent supporting performances, notably from Richenda Carey as the unpredictable racing punter Miss Meacham, and a lovely study in innate kindness from Lolita Chakrabarti as Miss Cooper.

Some cast members return after the interval for The Browning Version, including impeccable performances by Nathaniel Parker as the out-of-touch Andrew Crocker-Harris (The Crock) and Lolita Chakrabarti as his unfulfilled but cruel wife Millie. Jeremy Neumark Jonesgives an excellent performance as science teacher and Millie’s lover Frank Hunter, and Bertie Hawes shows great promise in his professional stage debut as Taplow.

It would be wrong to say it was perfect throughout; there were some missed or fumbled lines from a few of the actors in Table Number Seven, but, as Browning himself said, I want the heart to scold. Two superb examples of mid-20th century drama at its best. After its run in Chichester, the production tours to Richmond, Cheltenham and Oxford.

 

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

 

Review – This Is My Family, Studio at the Crucible, Sheffield, 13th July 2013

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The last time we saw Calendar Girls (the play), I didn’t like it much. I liked the film and the original stage production at Chichester a lot, but by the time it had toured and toured and toured it had got a bit tired. However, fresh as a daisy and brightly emotional comes a new work from the pen of Tim Firth, This Is My Family – a rather pedestrian title for an intricately woven little musical of a “typical” family – bonkers Grandma, well-meaning and inept dad, overworked mum, promiscuous auntie, Goth teenage son, cheeky teenage daughter. It’s full of charm, comic insights and affectionate characterisation.

The whole story is seen from the point of view of Nicky, the aforementioned cheeky daughter, who successfully enters a competition to win a family holiday anywhere in the world. Whilst everyone else finds it hard enough just to get through a normal day, Nicky imagines all sorts of holiday scenarios in every continent, but, being a typical 13 year old, ends up opting for the only place she can think of that the rest of the family will like – a place her parents used to take them when they were younger, and which she knew had a special meaning to them. However, when they get there it’s not quite as they remember it! It’s become a hideous campsite in a godforsaken corner of England where they “enjoy” typical English weather and arguments and bickerings ensue. But despite everything, the holiday brings the family together in a way that none of them could have foreseen. I won’t tell you how; suffice it to say that the second act is at times extremely moving and very tender – enough to bring a tiny tear to Mrs Chrisparkle’s eye.

It’s a very effective set; the Studio doesn’t have a huge acting space, but this tall, shallow backdrop against one wall depicts the many rooms of a busy cluttered house, enabling scenes to take place in different rooms whilst not encroaching on the main acting area. The small band led by Caroline Humphris whack out some engaging tunes and quite complex musical sequences too where all the cast sing some multipart harmonies immensely skilfully.

The strength of the show is in its structure. On the one hand, it’s instantly appealing as we all recognise the characters. Even if you don’t personally have one of those six types in your family (and I bet you do), you will still personally know someone closely who fills the bill. The underlying message of the show is that there is nothing new under the sun. As the holiday develops, we realise that Steve and Yvonne had precisely the same kind of ritualistic communion experience that they have scorned Matt for (a Druidic wedding to the unseen Rachel), and that May and her “Ralphie” also had some similar arrangement long in the past. Each generation, whether they realise it or not, becomes the blueprint for the next generation, and if the current family is a bunch of crazies, no doubt so were the forebears. When Matt decides to keep the letter Steve wrote to Yvonne as a teenager, you can see that the future generations are likely to continue that family tradition. It’s a real affirmation of love.

At the heart of the show is a great performance from Evelyn Hoskins as Nicky, a cheerful, precocious but never caricatured portrayal of a young teenage girl with lots to look forward to. She has a great stage presence, a charming voice and is, in the words of T S Eliot, “the still point in the turning world” (I don’t think I have yet recovered from seeing Cats last week). Alongside her is another excellent performance from Terence Keeley as her older brother Matt, who has the mumbling speech of a disrespectful teenager to a tee, is a frankly terrifying Goth, is very convincing in striding the gap between being a stupid boy and nearly a man; and who absolutely comes into his own at the end as he matures into a proper university student. He has a great singing voice, terrific comic timing and I think he could become A Name To Watch For.

Bill Champion plays Steve, the much criticised, helpful and wannabe practical dad who is never happier than when making things, despite a total lack of skill, and much to the dismay of his family. Their lives are littered with the evidence of his hopeless attempts – an old bath becomes a spa, night vision head torches are constructed out of old bike lamps; fortunately, Matt puts his foot down early enough to prevent Steve from destroying his new university rooms. It’s a great performance of humour tinged with some pathos. Clare Burt makes an excellent Yvonne, the mother torn between practicality and romantic ideals, and Rachel Lumberg, last seen here in the Full Monty, gives a brilliantly funny performance as Yvonne’s slightly more wayward sister with a new man for every occasion.

Last, and certainly not least, comes a superbly controlled performance from Sian Phillips as May, Steve’s mother, which shows a decline into dementia in a most affectionate and gentle way. Losses of memory, misunderstandings and the occasionally bizarre act are contrasted with some insightful speeches of great wit and understanding too. I’ve seen Sian Phillips in many productions over the years (going back to Pal Joey in 1980) and she still has a marvellous presence and gives a great performance. She hasn’t lost her singing voice either.

It’s a reflective, feel good show, which can make you both laugh and cry, and you certainly come away from the theatre feeling a little bit wiser about what makes us all tick. It really ought to have a life after this short Sheffield run!