I suppose we might have the recession to thank for this, but Nottingham Playhouse appear to have started offering cheap deals, on specific midweek nights, to selected city centre workplaces - including the building which houses K's company. Consequently, we've just got back from a most agreeable evening's entertainment, priced at a mere fiver per ticket - and I'm hoping that K will be able to swing the same deal for Brecht's Caucasian Chalk Circle in November. (I acted in it as a teenager, and so have retained a certain sentimental attachment.)

As regards Noel Coward's classic drawing room comedy, the attachment is no less sentimental. I grew up in the village of Blyth in North Nottinghamshire - and in a rare moment of wit, my father named our family cabin cruiser Blyth Spirit. I'd seen the 1945 movie (starring Rex Harrison and Constance Cummings) several times over - but not for at least two decades, and so my memory of the plot had dimmed to a degree that permitted the re-introduction of a useful measure of surprise.

This latest production has been staged in a traditional manner, with all period elements intact: not only the splendid, pitch-perfect set, but also the cut-glass diction and arch, mannered staginess of the cast. In the earliest scenes, some of this staginess teetered on the brink of "am dram": most visibly in the case of the minor housemaid character, but most perilously in the case of the male lead, who stumbled over his delivery and generally took a while to get fully into his stride.

The oddest moment of the evening came with the introduction of the dinner guests, George and Violet, as the actress playing Violet bore an uncanny resemblance to... oh, you know, that woman off that thing on the telly. (I Googled her when I got home: Anne Reid, best known for her portrayal of Ken Barlow's first wife in Coronation Street - you know, her that electrocuted herself with the hair dryer - and of Mavis Riley's fellow refugee from Cafe BonBon on Dinner Ladies.) In fact, the resemblance was so uncanny that half the audience started muttering to each other ("Ooh, it's her off that thing on the telly"), and there was even a brief smattering of applause.

Except that I've checked, and it wasn't her off that thing on the telly at all - but a younger actress, with a markedly similar toothsome over-bite. Well, it did seem strange to have cast the best known performer in such a limited role...

Although hampered by a quiet (if faultlessly attentive) audience, whose laughter rarely rose above a polite titter, the cast did the script justice, with intelligent readings that shyed away from stock characters and easy laughs. The actress playing the ghostly Elvira pitched her performance just right, blending soignée other-worldliness with crafty mischief - and the actress playing the eccentric medium Madam Arcati was brave enough to break completely with Margaret Rutherford's unforgettable interpretation, taking the character down a measurably different route without ever compromising her purpose or throwing away her comedic potential.

A word about the interval drinks. K and I ordered our G&Ts in advance, and were dismayed to discover that they barely tasted of gin at all. So we approached the bar: in righteous search of redress, but also perhaps unwittingly channelling the spirit of La Rutherford herself:

"Young man! We ordered gin and tonics, but we can't taste the gin - can we, dear? We think there must have been some sort of mistake!"

"But I remember pouring your drinks myself - and there definitely gin in both of them."

"Well, we definitely can't taste it - can we dear? It's really most terribly weak! Now, are you quite, quite sure?"

"I'm positive. But if you'd like me to pour you another..."

"Oh, yes please! How kind you are!"

"So, is that just the one measure between you, or should I..."

"No, don't be silly: one measure each of course, there's a good... oh yes, that's so much better. Yes, four pounds eighty, of course..."

What have we become? Don't feel that you have to answer that.

Labels: theatre

Unlike most contemporary dance companies, DV8 specialise in adding more overtly theatrical elements to their productions, making integral use of the spoken word throughout. For this performance, the text was entirely sourced from specially recorded interviews, which explored issues of sexual identity and its acceptance and repression within different religious and ethnic cultures.

Thematically speaking, this was a hard-hitting, unflinching examination of homophobia and its consequences. As such, it challenged the cosy assumptions of our supposedly more enlightened times, without ever needing to resort to obvious soap-box tactics.

But where did all of this leave To Be Straight With You as a contemporary dance performance? With so much to challenge the mind, some of the more visual aspects were in danger of being swamped. For the most part, the balance was deftly struck – but a notable lessening of dramatic tension in the closing scenes brought the evening to an unexpectedly subdued conclusion.

Labels: eveningpost, performance, theatre

This article originally appeared in the Nottingham Evening Post.

Following a successful run at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe, former Likely Lad Rodney Bewes is currently in the middle of a marathon one-man tour of the UK, stretching right through to April 2008.

The show in question, On the Stage – and Off, is a comedic adaptation of the first book by Jerome K Jerome. As Rodney wryly commented, when EG spoke to him earlier this week, “He was only famous for Three Men in a Boat. Nobody thinks he did anything else, just as nobody thinks I’ve done anything other than The Likely Lads – although I’ve been an actor for fifty-five years.”

Before embarking upon his literary career, the young Jerome spent three years during the 1880s trying to make it as an actor, with a spectacular lack of success that left him penniless and nearly destitute. On the Stage chronicles this period – but with the accent on comedy rather than tragedy, as Jerome lurches between a succession of second-rate productions, seedy lodging houses and unscrupulous managers. “Slowly, he comes to see the world of glamorous show business for what it is”, explained Bewes, with some force of feeling.

Jerome’s memoir was well received in its day, so much so that when Three Men in a Boat appeared, the critics were initially disappointed that it didn’t live up to the expectations of his debut. Having already toured Three Men as a one-man show in the 1990s, Bewes clearly feels a particular affinity with its author.

“He came to London from a poor upbringing, and then he made his own life – which is exactly what I did. I could never have done P.G. Wodehouse! I can empathise with Jerome K Jerome, as he wasn’t posh. After his success, the press nicknamed him ‘Arry K ‘Arry, because of his street vernacular. Even so, he became best friends with Conan Doyle, Kipling and J.M. Barrie, and so he was part of the literary set.”

As the tour progresses, Rodney has noticed that it tends to attract “an audience who like theatre. They’re the people who keep the roofs on theatres. It always amazes me who actually comes, away from the television and the fireside and the barbecue and the lawn.”

The show is also peppered with unscripted ad-libs and asides, ensuring that it never becomes a dry, scripted monologue, of interest merely to the antiquarian. “Somebody said it was ‘interactive’, and I had to go and ask what that meant. Apparently, it’s when I muck about with the audience. But I love latecomers, and I love mobile phones.”

“During one of the Edinburgh shows, a mobile phone went off. Because I’m an actor in my head during the play, I turned in the direction of the phone and said: ‘Do answer it! It might be an offer of work!’”

Although the young Jerome might have failed to find his big break as an actor, the young Rodney Bewes enjoyed conspicuously better luck. Following his casting alongside Tom Courtenay in the classic British comedy film Billy Liar, there was no turning back. A few years later, his portrayal of the hapless Bob Ferris in The Likely Lads sealed his reputation. While some actors might have felt somewhat shackled to such an enduringly popular character, the experience has brought Bewes nothing but satisfaction.

“A lot of actors get very grand and self-important, and I don’t think you should. The Likely Lads was my claim to fame, if you like. I even mention it on the posters for my tour. Why not? We’re here to sell tickets.”

“The series was re-released last year on DVD, and a man from the BBC said to me: ‘We’re so thrilled that you’re going to be a boxed set, Rodney’. And I said: ‘Well, what’s next? After you’re a boxed set, it must be the knighthood!’”

On The Stage – And Off plays at the Palace Theatre in Newark on Thursday September 27th.

Labels: comedy, eveningpost, interviews, theatre