All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts…
from ‘As You Like It’ by William Shakespeare
I've visited Newcastle's imposing Theatre Royal on many an occasion. Indeed, it was the first theatre in which, aged fifteen, I watched a live performance. It was Shakespeare's 'Scottish Play' performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company. I was studying the play for 'O' level English Literature and the visit was part of a school trip.
After two-and-a-bit mesmerising hours, I'd fallen in love with live theatre and Shakespeare's writing. And it's a love that's lasted more than half a century.
But this piece is not about the Theatre Royal, Shakespeare or live theatre. Instead, it's about another Newcastle theatre I had not entered until a couple of weeks ago, despite passing its doors many times over the years.
The Tyne Theatre and Opera House is thirty years younger than its grand counterpart, opening in 1867. And in contrast to the 'serious' theatre performed in the Royal, the Tyne staged Victorian 'Spectaculars'. Anything from Epsom Derby-winning horses running on special treadmills to wondrous stage sets, of ships sinking. Oscar Wilde also graced its boards, offering a talk on Fashion. Now that's something I wish I could have attended. I wonder what the audience of the day might have thought given Wilde stood in stark contrast to the music hall offerings of Geordie Ridley and his 'Blaydon Races'. Then again Wilde was nothing if not a Victorian Spectacular!
But by the early 1900s, the appetite for those 'Spectaculars' had faded, and the building was converted into a cinema. As you can see from the photograph, The Stoll Picture Theatre. Its claim to fame being the first in Newcastle to show a 'talkie'.
Of course, cinema-going declined rapidly through the 1960s, and along with many cinemas, the Stoll closed its doors.
Those doors stayed closed until 1980 and its purchase as a live performance venue for music, comedy and, on occasion, opera. In the latter's case, even drawing Plácido Domingo as the lead in Tosca.
But my first visit to the Tyne was not to see theatre, concert, or opera. It was for 'An Evening with Phil Rosenthal'.
Some will know Phil as the creator and writer of 'Everybody Loves Raymond'. While humorous, it was not a show I made a point of watching. Instead, I came across, and became much more engaged with watching, Phil from his food and travel documentaries 'I'll Have What Phil's Having' and 'Somebody Feed Phil'.
Many enjoy Stanley Tucci's 'Searching for Italy', where he visits each region of that country, exploring local cultures, cuisine, and history. It's a sedate, considered, and cerebral offering that I, too, enjoy.
Phil got there first and in a more relaxed and boisterous way. Travelling to cities around the world, sampling the local dishes and offering the same local insight as Stanley but with what, for me, is that magic ingredient, a generous helping of Jewish humour too. That tremendous diversity of fatalism, self-deprecation, irony, and satire, which snubs its nose at perceived authority.
During the early episodes of 'Somebody Feed Phil', there was a short interlude in which Max, Phil's father, an inveterate joke and storyteller, made cameo appearances to tell a joke.
Since the death of Max, different Jewish celebrity friends of Phil make those appearances and offer a joke in tribute to Max and in a style that Max would have appreciated. In one of the more recent episodes, Phil's friend was Pamela Adlon, who offered this excellent example of Jewish humour on which I'll close this piece ….
Old man Rosenberg is lying on his deathbed in his family's home. Then, suddenly, he gets a whiff of the best thing he's ever smelled.
"What is that glorious smell?? I know that smell. Oh lord, it's my daughter's famous brisket."
A few minutes pass, and his grandson Ezra enters his room.
"Ezra, please get me a plate of your mother's brisket. I want nothing more in this world than a plate of that brisket for my last meal."
"Ok, grandpa."
Ten minutes pass and Ezra comes back empty-handed.
"Ezra, my boy. Where is the brisket? I don't have much time left, and that's the only thing I want."
"Sorry, grandpa. Mom says that that's for after the funeral."