Grayson’s Art Club – Manchester Art Gallery (August 2021)

For people of a certain vintage, they’d come home from school, be handed a glass of Kia-Ora and sit and watch Take Hart with the aroma of fish fingers, chips and beans wafting in the air. For the uninitiated, Take Hart was a BBC children’s TV programme about art, presented by a chap call Tony Hart, who had a Plasticine animated side-kick called Morph. Unlike progressive UK Governments, Tony could see the benefit of encouraging children to be creative. He would demonstrate small-scale projects you could easily try to recreate or adapt, and large-scale projects on the studio floor, or a beach which you’d just watch in amazement. There was a special part of the show “The Gallery” in which young viewers could send in their own artwork and if they were lucky, Tony would select their work and it would be shown on the TV.

The reason for my trip down memory lane is that during lockdown, Grayson Perry, one of Britain’s leading artists, took this idea one step further. No longer just the domain of young children, Grayson and his wife opened the doors of the artworld for everyone; no matter their age, or their ability, everyone was welcome at Art Club. The Channel 4 show was only 6 episodes long, but it quickly brought the British nation together during the first lockdown.

“We want to encourage everyone to express their creativity through art. Art is good for you, whoever you are.”

Each week, Grayson and Philippa would set a creative theme and people would submit their artwork to them. Alongside the artwork submitted by the public, celebratory guests contributed their artwork, and of course Philippa and Grayson shared their creativity with us too.

Nearly ten thousand people submitted their work to Grayson and Philippa, and art chosen by them, and their celebratory guests, was shared on national television and more latterly in an exhibition at Manchester Art Gallery. Grayson was adamant that the exhibition would not be shown in London. In his own words, he loves London, it’s the centre of the British art world, but Art Club wasn’t for the art world, it was for the whole country.

Lockdown Two thwarted Grayson’s plans for opening the exhibition, however, it did allow us a second series of Art Club and offered six new themes for the nation to unleash their creativity. Family, nature, food, dreams, work and travel were the hot topics of series two and once again the country united to explore and share its artwork once more with Grayson, Philippa and Kevin the cat. The divided UK was again united, showing that making art unites us and comforts us in our times of need. Whether it’s going back to childhood with some Lego or grabbing a pencil and paper and scribbling away our unconscious thoughts or fears, art is the therapy that heled many people come to terms with being forced to stay at home.

Now the lockdowns have ended, Manchester Art Gallery is open, and the public can reminisce about those early, dark days of lockdown. The exhibition is an incredible reminder of what we, as a nation went through. It chronicles how we got through the changing mood of the pandemic, from one of fear, to one of anger, to one of unity and tolerance.  

Below are my personal favourites from the exhibition catagories:

Portraits

Grayson Perry 2020 by Nathan Wyburn

When I visit a gallery, I’m not immediately drawn to the portrait section. (Strange when you consider that for the last few years, I returned to drawing by doing portraits of my favourite actor Tom Burke.) I was pleasantly surprised by how many of the portraits spoke to me and there were a few pieces that really caught my attention, but I loved the simplicity of Nathan’s work; how by raiding a few condiments from the kitchen cupboard, he could produce a portrait of Grayson using soya sauce and noodles!

Animals 

Lockdown Birds 2020 by Paul Green

My favourite artist is Georges Stubbs; the way he captures the details of his animals, especially the horses he is famed for is sublime. I was captivated by several animal paintings in this exhibit, but it was these garden birds made of wire that stole this section. The attention to detail in these tiny sculptures brought home the joy these daily garden visitors gave me and watching them have the freedom to go wherever they wanted whilst I was being told I had to stay at home!

Fantasy

ComputerWorld 2020 by Alex Robinson

There was something so endearing about Alex’s fantasy Fimo clay models. They took me back to a time when it was acceptable to lose yourself in a world of make believe. Each character is unique, but all exhibit Alex’s personal style. Best of all, they made me smile, and what could be better than disappearing from the harshness of reality, to take time out and allow yourself to take in the joyfulness of these little characters. 

View From My Window 

Bearded Tit 2020 by Jim Muir (Vic Reeves)

I didn’t feel much connection with this category. I didn’t spend much time looking out of the window during lockdown, but if I did, it was watching the birds on the feeders. It’s like watching a soap opera being played out, the different birds playing their roles to aplomb. I really loved how Jim had stripped our feathered friends back to their most simplistic form and used bold primary colours – a bit of brightness and cheer in the dark days that stretched ahead of us.

Home

At home with my cats 2020 by Ania Newland

Ania’s painting stood out for me as it had an echo of a Mr Man book to it. I don’t make that comment flippantly or disrespectfully – it is the bright colours outlined in black that made the thought pop into my head. And what could be a more homely thought than being a child tucked up in bed having Mr Men books read to them? There was also a hint of longing to be the person sitting on the sofa surrounded by cats. When lockdown began, the only animals I had keeping me sane were the yard cats at work. Things are different now, and heaven forbid, if there’s another lockdown, I have a cat to share my sofa with!

Britain

Thursday 8pm 2020 by Jacqueline Taylor

This image was a stark reminder of lockdown. I think we’ve easily forgotten how bad the early days were, when you could only leave your house to go on a walk (on your own.) The car sat on the driveway unless you were going to work or the supermarket. There was a feeling of being trapped, your home suddenly became your prison; children stuck inside trying to find a way through the school day when formal schooling was no longer an option. And then, without warning, neighbourhoods were showing signs of solidarity – windows were being bestowed with children’s paintings of rainbows. This wasn’t a new concept, it had started in Italy, one of the first European countries to be hit hard by Covid. In Italy the art was accompanied by the phrase ‘Andrà Tutto Bene’, or All Will Be Well. The rainbow was a simple way for children to show their appreciation for the NHS – and on a Thursday evening at 8pm, residents up and down the country joined together and clapped for their overstretched NHS. If there is one piece of art in the whole exhibition which has a historical context to it, it’s this one. In ten years’ time, if we look at it again, those memories of lockdown will come flooding back.

Grayson’s Art Club exhibition feature art from series one is currently open at Manchester Art Gallery until 31st October 2021.

Grayson’s Art Club exhibition featuring art from series two is due to open at Bristol Museum & Art Gallery 4th December 2021 - 8th May 2022.

 

  PS. When you're leaving the exhibition - look closely in one of the cabinets in the tea exhibition...that Jane Austen pot doesn't just look like a Grayson Perry pot...it is a Grayson Perry pot!

An Assured Principal Refuge

It’s 7am on a bitterly cold grey Saturday Morning. The wind is blowing a hooley and the rain is coming down in buckets. What I want to do is roll back over and pull the duvet over my head – instead I crawl downstairs, make a cup of tea (Assam – something strong and punchy) and head back upstairs to get dressed before driving to Manchester to tour a hotel. Yes you read that right – 7am, Armageddon outside and I’m driving to Manchester to tour a hotel!

The Principal Hotel has a commanding presence. It is a large red brick building standing on the corner of Oxford Street and Whitworth Street. When you walk out of Oxford Road railway station, The Palace Theatre stands on one corner and The Principal Hotel with its imposing clock tower stands on the other. Now I know it’s strange for me to travel somewhere and ignore the theatre, but here’s the thing, I met friends and had lunch at the hotel in December. I was blown away by the interior of the hotel and the original circa 1900 glazed tiles that adorned the walls and Romanesque pillars. My friend then casually dropped into the conversation that she’d worked with people who had done a tour of the hotel. A quick search of the internet threw up Jonathan Schofield tours. We were soon booked in for 10am Saturday 3^rd February, for a history lesson and hopefully some nice photographs of the building.

The first thing to remember whilst taking the tour is that the building was not originally a hotel. The size and grandiose nature of the building works perfectly as a bespoke hotel, but from 1895 to 1987, this magnificent Grade II listed building was the home of The Refuge Assurance Company Ltd. It was an English company specialising in life insurance and pensions; as the company grew, so did the building.

The first phase of the building, the part directly on the corner of Oxford Street and Whitworth Street, was built by the Victorian architect Alfred Waterhouse during 1891 -1895.

Waterhouse was a well-established name, having built the Natural History Museum in London, Manchester Town Hall and Owens College (now Manchester University). There were 900 clerks working in the building, but as the company grew, they needed to expand the building. They purchased the land adjacent to the building in 1905, however, Alfred Waterhouse died in the same year and so the company turned to his son Paul to complete the works. Paul Waterhouse had worked alongside his father and so he turned his hand to doubling the Oxford Street frontage as far as the River Dart, matching his father’s existing style, scale and materials. He added a 220ft clock tower in the centre of the building and this became the new front entrance. On each of the quarters of the clock face there is a stylised Manchester Bee. Throughout the building, both inside and out, there are countless symbols and imagery, reminders to the workforce what they were there for.

As you walk through the doors to enter the main reception of the Principal Hotel you pass by the statues of Thrift and Industry. You suddenly get an immediate sense of just how formidable the building is and what it must have been like to work there. Staring up at the large ornate dome that dominates the inside of the building you feel like a tiny ant in comparison. It was here, in reception that I met with another 30 or 40 like-minded people. Who would think a tour of a hotel could be so popular?!

We were blessed to have Jonathan Schofield take us on the tour (his website pre-warns that he doesn’t always take the tours). He is a charismatic fellow with a wealth of information about Manchester, its buildings, its history, its industry, all brought to life with anecdotes and interactions with those on the tour.

The tour starts outside, standing on windswept, rainy corner, looking at the buildings of Alfred and Paul Waterhouse. Even on this dismal day there is grandness to the building, although it would be enhanced by a bit of blue sky and some sun bouncing off those small, red bricks! Back inside to the reception area. Originally it was open to the elements, you can see the original gutters inside the entrance doors, and if you look carefully you can see it was designed as a porte-cochere, or coach gate; a structure through which a horse and carriage would pass (later a motor car) arriving through one arch and departing through the other. This allowed occupants protection from the elements. This all stopped once the dome was built. 

Inside the walls are covered with lighter tiles to allow light to diffuse through the building. Originally in the centre was a cenotaph, but this was the only original feature that Refuge Assurance took with them when they left the building for their new office in Wilmslow in 1987. In its place a large statue of a horse commands attention. It was sculpted by the great great granddaughter of Charles Dickens (Sophie Dickens) and so there are some quotes from Dickens surrounding the horse which is made of iron and is about 1.5 times the size of a real horse. The horse symbolises strength and loyalty, nice virtues for the hotel which commissioned it to have.

A trip down into the vaults takes you back in time to why this building was built. There are many vault rooms on the lower level of the building, each filled with a number of lockable, heavy doored cabinets for storing paper policies (not cash.) Everything back in the day was done in triplicate (which took me back to my first days of working at NatWest.  I worked in the investments arm, not a banking branch, and whilst I worked in the days of the computer, my colleagues all remembered the days of the white top copy, the green file copy, and the blue reminder/diary copy. To this day, even though I no longer work for the same company, any letters I diarise for a response at work, I still call my “blues”.) The top policies – the most expensive ones – were held under lock and key in the vaults; this included the policies of the Churchill family who were clients of the Refuge Assurance Company Ltd.

During WWII the vaults had a secondary purpose. The Refuge constructed two reinforced air raid shelters in the basement; one for the general public, one for staff. The building never received a direct hit during the war; however it did suffer small amounts of damage from incendiary bombs. Roof lads were employed to “sweep” any bombs that landed on the building onto the road beneath, and due to the close proximity of St Mary’s hospital across the road, The Refuge housed many patients when the air raid sirens wailed. As you walk out of the vaults past the gate and a huge safe door and a further cage gate, you can see one of the reinforced walls with a blast door which was inserted during the war.

The Refuge is home to what is now the largest hotel ballroom in the North West. In the 1930’s, the directors of the company were concerned about the theatres that were popping up and the drunken debauchery they would bring with them. A ballroom was built with its own fully functioning stage with full drops and wings. There were music hall societies, a Gilbert and Sullivan society, a Shakespeare society and most importantly, no alcohol! About four inches below the carpeted floor lies hidden a fully sprung dance floor, like the one at the Tower Ballroom in Blackpool. Modern functions mean tables and chairs dragged across the floor would destroy it, so it lies hidden, secreted away alongside the old games/pool room of which only part of the entrance doors can now be seen on either side of the stage.

In the days of the grand old houses, servants and their employers would have their own staircases. The Refuge Assurance Company Ltd was no different. Whilst designing the second phase of the building, Paul Waterhouse also designed the Directors Staircase. It is a strange and highly elaborate affair of bronze and different marbles, including the most expensive Carrara marble from Tuscany. At the bottom of the stairs are two “gothic” lamp posts which wouldn’t be out of place on a vampire movie; as you climb the steps, stained glass coats of arms of the various places Refuge Assurance had ties with dominate, the largest being the Manchester coat of arms, complete with sailing ship for a global outlook, and a globe with seven bees atop. Seven bees for the seven seas on which a trade ship would sail!

The bees also feature behind the brass lamp fittings that illuminate the way to the top. On your way up, if you feel the waft of a draft pass by, it could be that of one of the ghosts of the buildings has passed you. There is a memorial in Wilmslow to the 570 Refuge Assurance men who served in WWI. 285 served and returned, 285 died and are remembered on that memorial. In WWII many more lives were lost; whilst working at The Refuge, one fiancée learnt that her future husband had died in the trenches. Distraught at the news, she ran to the top of the Directors Staircase and threw herself off the top.

The stairs take you to the Directors suite of rooms. You would only find yourself in these rooms if you were a Director, a guest, or about to be fired. The rooms were used for boardroom meetings or elaborate dinners and there were liveried staff who cooked for and waited on the Directors. Around the walls yet more imagery can be seen, verses in Latin, castles (every man’s home is his castle) sit atop the heads of carved figures and scallop shells, the symbol of wellbeing, are dotted about. If you look carefully at the swags that hang at cornice level, they are not elaborate plasterwork, but painted fabric which requires careful washing to keep clean and bright.

As you head down through the arches into the old banking room, which is now the bar, you get a sense of the hive of industry. That great space would have been full of men sitting at lecterns taking details for assurance policies. This is part of Alfred Waterhouse’s original 1893 building. The internal loggias, reminiscent of large Roman arched buildings take the centre stage in terracotta and faience. (Ceramics which can be glazed or unglazed, but in the casting processes are so dense that the soot and smoke of Manchester’s industry cannot penetrate the tile. This process makes the tile almost self-cleaning with just the aid of water/rain.) The flower on the columns is a Trillium, symbolic of Christianity. The three petals on the flower represent the Holy Trinity. Each triangular tile is a complex mathematical equation as it circles the pillar which taper towards the top. There are numerous messages in the tiles written in Roman numerals. Doors with clocks have yet more castles housed above them in the colour of a Werther’s Original sweet!

In the 1960’s The Refuge got their first mainframe computer. It was housed in the area that is now the dining room and it became a thing of wonder. People would visit the building just to see the computer, thinking that with this advancement in technology, it would put an end to the paper systems and form filling. Move forward to 2018 and the building is still a destination point for the visitor. Unusually for a hotel, it’s still a destination location with many people visiting for a few hours to take advantage of the dining area, or to meet friends and sit in the large airy bar…or for some, it’s a chance to visit a unique building with a history to tell!

To book a tour, visit  https://www.jonathanschofieldtours.com

All photographs ©2018 S V Rogers

Uncle Vanya – Home Theatre, Manchester

I’ve recently written a post about Chekhov and Uncle Vanya after I saw it performed “in the round” at Theatr Clwyd, so I’m not going to go into the history of the play again. Instead, this is just a quick review of the show.  http://www.imblatheringnow.com/2017/10/uncle-vanya-by-anton-chekhov-theatr.html

I’ve not seen a “modern” interpretation of Chekhov before. I would argue that this was actually a timeless interpretation of Chekhov. It is hard to place this version in a specific decade because the themes that Chekhov wrote about 120 years ago are still relevant today, and will still be relevant in another 120 years. The costumes are also generic; simple casual clothing for the country workers, and an elegant red jumpsuit for the beautiful younger wife of the Professor, whose arrival torments all the men’s hearts. As  the generations before us have passed the buck, our latently idle species (however hard we try to convince ourselves otherwise) will continue to pass that buck to future generations to sort out. Chekhov was rather prophetic in his play writing, questioning the ways things were done and trying to focus on the possibilities of the future; the decline of the aristocracy, the anger and frustration of the destruction of the natural world, and the general mismanagement of the lands surrounding him.

In Andrew Upton’s version of Uncle Vanya, the action takes place within the oppressive crumbling walls of Serebrayakov’s estate. Damp, stained wallpaper peels from the walls, dead leaves litter the ground, and in the background a self-playing piano can be heard lamenting the destruction of both land and people as they are consumed by boredom and look to the bottom of a vodka bottle to solve their woes. Uncle Vanya is a play that we can all relate to, a play of wasted opportunities, unrequited love and economic injustices.     

At the heart of the tale is love. Sonya is secretly in love with the local doctor, Astrov. Vanya is obsessed with Yelena, the younger wife of the Professor, (who was previously married to Vanya’s dead sister). Astrov is also obsessed with Yelena, and blind to the feelings of Sonya; and whilst Yelena is aware of Sonya’s feelings, she too is attracted to Astrov but cannot betray her husband. It is a tangled web they weave, fuelled by love, boredom and vodka.

Katie West excels as the sweet, kind natured Sonya. Of all of the characters, she is the one you want to find happiness, the one who could have a bright future ahead of her, but as she delivers the final heart-rending lines of the play, you know her destiny is to continue being taken for granted until the day she dies. Nick Holder (Peaky Blinders, The Game) is equally as impressive as Uncle Vanya with an extraordinary depth of range for the character. At first he seems rather comical, a fool not to be taken seriously, but as his journey progresses you see the whimsy is a façade. His unwanted advances on the beautiful Yelena feel a little creepy, but later on there is a great feeling of sorrow towards him as he explodes with anger, releasing the hurt which has been tearing at his soul as he realises that he has wasted much of his life on people who don’t care about him. Jason Merrells (Waterloo Road) is charming as the visionary Astrov, although for all of his dreams about an ideal future, he can’t see what is staring him in the face! The supporting cast of Hara Yannas (The Musketeers, Broadchurch) as the pretty, bored, younger wife Yelena and David Fleeshman (Emmerdale) as the Professor Serebrayakov add another level of tension to the play as they arrive like a whirlwind bringing a trail of emotional and economic devastation with them.

Chekhov paints a clear picture of the destructive nature of depression, but Upton has captured the comedy that peppers Chekhov’s script with some highly entertaining moments and the strong cast has taken this on board. What’s the first thing that comes to a man’s mind when he has drunk too much vodka? Pulling his pants down and dancing around the stage with his trousers around his ankles of course! The moments leading up to the scene have the audience holding their breath, desperately stifling laughs as they watch Astov creep silently up on a sleeping Vanya. You can guess the rude awakening that is ahead of Vanya, and as music suddenly blares out of a stereo and he opens his eyes to Astrov’s bare bum the audience is left roaring with laughter.

Schoolboy pranks aside, this is certainly a different type of Vanya. It is a rollercoaster of emotions which show that even if life is not as you intended, life will and does go on, one way or another!

Uncle Vanya is currently playing at Home, Manchester until 25 November 2017. 

https://homemcr.org/production/uncle-vanya-2/?utm_source=Clare+test+list&utm_campaign=83d3514136-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2017_11_06&utm_medium=email

Campaign by Real Cats to Stop Theatre Visits.

IT CAN’T BE FEBRUARY ALREADY???

As New Year’s go, 2017 has been pretty good so far.  I read some of the air of despondency on Twitter (last year we had seen Tom in War in Peace, then there were the radio plays, and of course the excitement of tickets in our sweaty paws to see him on stage for the first time...but we've got nothing at the moment...) but I seem to be too busy to worry about Burke Blues! I'm even having the odd moments when I'm wondering if I'm a real fan of Tom's at all! Of course I can't wait to see him bring Cormoran Strike to life (I could easily picture him in the role when I read the novels and I did become rather excited about what the end result would be like) but we won't see the series until the end of this year...so what am I supposed to do until then? 

Tom/Athos enabled me to find some like-minded people who are out for fun, adventure and a bit of theatre, and so rather than sit waiting for Mr B's next move, 2017 has already started with a bang, and it seems like there's been no time to write about it all!

So, what HAS been going on in the first six weeks of the year? Here's a flavour of a few bits...  

January

I’ve started the year with two trips to London! I really should have my own gold plated seat on the Chester to Euston train by now. (Virgin trains take note of that.) I watched Wild Honey at The Hampstead Theatre, London and Love at the Dorfman Theatre (at The National Theatre London). This was followed by another trip down for a girly weekend, in which I went to see Art at the Old Vic, London where I met Rufus Sewell - another hero of mine! (There’s a separate post about that trip!)

Love at The Dorfman was so entrancing that I also decided to take a trip down to Birmingham to watch it there too.  I wanted to see what sort of reaction it would evoke in another city which also has substantial homelessness problems; although to be honest, I really didn’t enjoy the prospect of tearing down the M6 after work to see it. I use the term ‘tear’ loosely as the M6 to Birmingham resembles a car park with lots of irate drivers on it. (For my thoughts on Love – see my separate post.)

In amongst this I tried to finish off my reading challenge = success (finished it all with one day in hand!) and I also felt inspired to try sketching Cormoran Strike. (I can’t believe how hard I found it…Athos became easier because I could see the character not the actor, Cormoran is harder. I keep trying to stop making it look like Tom, which is actually rather hard, especially when you haven’t seen the series; just a rough photograph to copy!)

February

Start of a new month…must be time to hop onto a train for London then! Friday I zipped down to meet a friend and watch a Howard Barker play. I’ve read a few of his plays (his work introduced to me because Tom had acted in a couple of Barker plays) but I had never seen them performed. 

Reading them can be hard, they are meant to be seen, or at least heard. The words on the page are given life by the actors, and so I was really excited to see In The Depths of Dead Love at The Coronet Printroom London. What an amazing place that was! Next day a trip up to Manchester was planned to see The House of Bernarda Alba, however, just after breakfast my phone rang. It was my nextdoor neighbour. “Hi, hope you’re having a good time, I think Gerrard (my cat) might need to go to the vet. He’s not weeing properly and he's licking his bits. Which vet do you use?”

Oh my God. I know this was supposed to be a weekend of drama, but really? He chose the weekend neither of his owners are at home to have a flare up of his ‘usual’ problem! Well that’s typical. What do I do? I can get off at Crewe and get another train to Chester and take him to the vet myself (he’s got an appointment for 4:00) or, or, well what else do I do? Well according to my friend (she really is the best) “Go to Manchester, I’ll see what the vet says, then you can take it from there.” So I did. I got off at Manchester and she rang me later. “He’s got tablets…lot’s of them.  And errrmmm, did you know he has a heart murmur?” Yes I admit, p’raps I should have mentioned that at some point. So with relief that he was going to be ok, I went to watch The House of Bernarda Alba. It was only when I was reading the programme that I realised it was a “disabled” theatre group that was putting on the performance. I wasn’t sure how it would work, but I went in with an open mind and came out completely blown away. The play was amazing.

My friend and I then played “escape from Manchester.” It’s an interesting game, even with the help of SatNav woman. We saw every side of Manchester before finding the motorway and escaping. I never drive into Manchester, now I know why. It was like being in a Murukami or David Mitchell novel. You think you are in reality…but are you? And if you’re not in the real world, how do you leave this strange land behind to get back to where you were?

The Campaign for Real Cats

Sunday I was supposed to accompany my friend to a wildlife centre and polish up on our photography skills. I was really looking forward to it, but Gerrard had to take number one spot in my decisions, and he was still at that stage milking all the attention he could get.  I got an amusing book for Christmas called “The Unadulterated Cat” by Terry Pratchett. Never mind the Campaign for Real Ale, this is the Campaign for Real Cats.

In the chapter Types of Cat, at No 5 Sort of Tabby Cats with a Bit of Ginger, But sometimes In the Right Light You Could Swear There’s a Hint of Siamese There  Your basic Real cat. Backbone of the country’s cat population.  

Gerrard is most definitely a real cat. He matches that description, plus he refuses to wear a flea collar,  he never chases anything you throw for him to play with, and when your back is turned he will eat anything left on the side if he thinks he can get away with it. Yes, he eats quiche, gravy, butter, Marmite… anything he can wave his slobbery tongue over. Yes he’s a Real cat, he’s not going to stick to the vet’s nonsense “urinary health” diet. No no no. He will supplement his very expensive diet with anything he can find, then get himself in a pickle which necessitates his lovely neighbour whisking him off to the emergency weekend vet for £100’s worth of treatment and the vet ringing me on a Sunday morning to go through what he had previously said to my very nice friend and neighbour!

Anyway, after a week Gerrard seems to be on the mend which is good. I can go back to concentrating on feeling sorry for myself because my chest hurts from all the coughing I’ve been doing recently. Blummin winter colds.

Carrying on Regardless

So what’s next on my busy schedule? Well there’s David Hare’s Skylight to see at the theatre in Mold. My nephew turns 21 (impossible I refuse to believe that), I’m heading up to Yorkshire for a 40^th birthday, and there's a promise to go and watch 50 Shades Darker…well I drag my friends to see all things Burke…about time they dragged me to see all things Dornan!

Wonder what the month of March will have in store for me…

A Streetcar Named Desire (Tennessee Williams)

I am a bit of a fan of Tennessee Williams. I love the way he writes about real people. He wasn't afraid to shy away from domestic issues or bring mental illness out of the shadows; he showed people what is was, an illness and one that affected real people. I watched Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and The Glass Menagerie in February, so when I saw that another of Tennessee Williams’ classics was being produced near me, I thought I should make the effort to see it; especially as it was starring Maxine Peake who I had not seen on stage before.

Maxine Peake is a familiar name to the Manchester Royal Exchange, yet whilst I’ve watched her on TV I’ve never seen her on stage, so for me it was interesting how well she would translate from screen to stage. 

Williams’ plays work because he writes from the heart. His family life was dogged by mental illness, and so he was in a position to bring these issues into the public arena, not overly sentimentalising things, but showing the world that people should be treated carefully, and respectfully. He was close to his family and carried a lifetime of guilt about how his sister Rose was treated. She was given a lobotomy in 1943 which he said left her permanently institutionalised.  His feelings towards his sister and how she was dealt with are most prominently seen in The Glass Menagerie.

Here, in Streetcar, he deals with the nostalgia of his mother and sister and their love for the Deep South. This is endorsed in many of the female characters he has so carefully crafted. In this production, Peake has manged to take the soul of Blanche DuBois and make her this delicate individual, you sympathise with her plight, yet you don’t feel sorry for her. She has this harshness in her turn of phrase that stops you feeling too sentimental for her.

I'm almost sat on the stage!

The staging of the play helps to add closeness to the characters. As Blanche arrives at her sister’s flat, you arrive with her, right into the centre of things. You are practically sat in Stanley and Stella’s home. It is almost like a fly on the wall documentary. You feel a bit like an voyeur, spying on the truth that goes on behind closed doors. 

As Blanche sweeps in, in her glamourous clothes and dark shades, to this darker side of tenement life, you see a snob, someone who looks down her nose. Stanley is beneath her. How could her sister marry such a common person? Blanche is disgusted that her sister lives like this, a one room flat with a bathroom. She has to share the same room as her sister and husband, mattresses lying on the floor to sleep on, but from the start you can see this is all a façade. Blanche is pretending her life is perfect, but is she pretending so she doesn’t lose face with her sister, or is it because she cannot bear to face the

reality of her situation?

It is the element of uncertainty about Blanche which draws you into this play. Peake’s performance is exceptional. She has a real connection with the audience, even at the height of her most awful comments. She can’t stop calling Stanley a “Polack” even when he tells her he is as American as she is. She is living in a world of make believe; as she states she doesn’t really drink, you see her sneaking a quick tipple from the hidden bottle of Southern Comfort! This fragility is exquisitely realised, especially when Stanley delivers the cold hard facts to Blanche as he finds out about her non too perfect past!

Ben Batt is a credible Stanley. Having watched Marlon Brando in the film version, Ben had a lot to live up to.  He watches, listens, and then delivers the truth with an unassuming brutality, both physically and mentally. As Blanche slowly disintegrates before our eyes. It is hard to watch Stanley and Stella’s treatment of her. You can understand why they are frustrated by Blanche’s lies, but they never try to understand why she feels the need to live in world of make believe, they never really talk to her. Blanche is secretly crying out for help, but no-one sees this.

At times it is an uncomfortable play to watch, but this is because of the themes, not the performances. Watching someone descend into madness in front of your eyes is both fascinating and painful. As Williams himself said “to desire a thing…is to place yourself in a vulnerable position. And as Blanche delivers her final lines directly into the eyes of the audience, you feel most intimately that vulnerability.

7 plays in 7 days!

Well that was the week that was! Monday was a trip to Theatre Clwyd to see Kreutzer vs Kreutzer based on Leo Tolstoy’s novella.  I’ve already written a review for that one, but must say once again what a joy it was to see Sam West in the flesh! He’s an incredible actor.

A couple of days in work and then it was time to head off to Manchester to watch Maxine Peake in Tennessee Williams’ classic A Streetcar Named Desire. I can’t remember if I’ve ever been to Manchester’s Royal Exchange theatre before…I’m sure I must have been when I was younger, but I really didn’t recognise the place. From the outside it is a beautiful grade II listed building, inside the building’s Great Hall sits the theatre, a circular steel and glass construction. The unique design means that plays are shown in the round, seating surrounds all sides of the stage, and this brings an immediate relationship between the actor and the audience. I can't believe just how close to the action the audience are. No barriers, the audience are practically part of the stage!

Friday. After spending the night at my friend’s parents’ house, I was kindly dropped off at Stockport railway station for my trip to London. What an amazing journey! I normally end up reading and talking to no-one when I travel from Chester, however, this trip was filled with fun and laughter. The couple who were sharing the table seat with me seemed nice; we exchanged a few words and then did our own thing for a bit. There was a man sitting on the table next to me who somehow looked familiar but I didn’t know why. After an hour the lady opposite me said to the group in general, “so I’m really nosey and you all seem interesting people, why are you going to London? Work or pleasure?”  The chap near me said, “well I’m off for an audition for a new programme on the I-player that Simon Amstell has written.” “Really?” Well this was going to be an interesting conversation, and so it was! We had a nice chat with him, and then the lady and I had a good ole gossip. The time flew by in a carriage filled with chatting and laughter. I must remember in future to travel to London from Stockport and not Chester!!!!

I met up with my friends at St Pancras for lunch and Prosecco! We then meandered to our hotel and got ready for our first show of the weekend, The Entertainer at the Garrick Theatre starring Sir Kenneth Branagh. It wasn’t a play I was familiar with, but I thought it would be rather light hearted with a title like that…how wrong I was. It was a play filled with jokes but with some very poignant moments too. Sir Ken put on a fabulous show, but I left the theatre feeling like someone had ripped my insides out. I was almost void of emotion, a hollow feeling that I couldn’t explain…perhaps a sense of loss over the old music hall days when entertainers were funny because they were clever rather than puerile and smutty! It took a couple of days to come to terms with the play, and to realise why I had felt like that.

Saturday was Chekhov day, the day I had been looking forward to. Three plays one after the other, Platonov, Ivanov and The Seagull. I really didn’t know what to expect. When I read the plays they were rather heavy and full of angst; watching three in a row might be a bit too much. I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of comedy in the productions, David Hare had created three fantastic versions of these classic plays.

When I arrived in the theatre, I was entranced by the stage which was like a woodland clearing, silver birch trees loomed in the darkness. As I went to take my seat, I politely said excuse me to this couple, I then looked into the eyes of the lady and thought “Oh my God that’s Celia Imrie.” I smiled and said thank you. OMG…Celia Imrie is a couple of seats from me watching the same play!!!! 

After the plays had finished, it seemed hard not to stick to The National tradition of running round to The Burketeer Table to have a drink. It seemed rather strange sitting there knowing that there was no Tom to walk out for a chat; however, we had our script book to hand and were ready to converse with the Chekhov actors if they were willing. Fortunately the actors we collared were up for a chat and happy to hand out autographs. They thought we were mad to watch all three plays in one day, and then when they realised we’d read the scripts too, I’m sure they thought we should be committed. A big thank you has to go to James McArdle who kindly chatted to us even though he had friends waiting for him (we did tell him to go and join them but he stayed to talk about Chekhov) and Geoffrey Streatfield who had just been announced as part of the cast for Wild Honey which we will be watching in January! It was such a fabulous day, and one that I was sad to see finish.

Sunday. Time to head home. It was a gorgeous sunny day, so I said goodbye to my friends who were heading to the airport and I wandered down to The National for a walk along the river. Cheryl had bought me a book about pretentiousness (that’s another story) and so I sat in the sun reading it, chuckling to myself upon reading the opening chapter. It seems that her comment to Tom was not as much of an insult as I had thought! Soon it was time was time to walk to Waterloo and back to Chester. And yes, the train journey home was quiet and uneventful, that Stockport train really was a winner!

Back home, and one last play to make it 7 plays in 7 days…and of course you already know, we can’t have a week of theatricals without our Tom! The BBC Radio 3 play that night was The Visa Affair by Jake Arnott, all about the life of Joe Orton. It’s a sorrowful and surreal tale, one I had forgotten about, but upon listening to Russell Tovey and Tom Burke, I started to remember elements about the story of the two pranksters defacing library books and the tragic events that unfolded due to the repercussions of their unruly behaviour.

I will eventually write a separate piece about the plays I saw and I know I still have Goodnight Mr Tom part 2 to finish, but I seem to be lacking time at the moment…I can’t think why!!!

So there we are; seven plays, seven days, and now the hit of reality! I don’t head back to theatreland for a whole two weeks, so I guess I should get a bit of writing done while I have the chance!