"I am confident that young kids of today will grow up baffled by old attitudes and ways of thinking.
For many of that younger generation, your notion of Englishness is quite different from my own. I understand that, too.
I understand that on this island, we have a desire to protect our values and traditions — as we should — but that shouldn’t come at the expense of introspection and progress.
Regardless of your upbringing and politics, what is clear is that we are an incredible nation — relative to our size and population — that has contributed so much to the arts, science and sport.
We do have a special identity and that remains a powerful motivator."
Extract of a letter from Gareth Southgate, the manager of England's football team, before the UEFA Euro 2020 tournament. The letter began "Dear England Fans"
A week or so back, I did something I had not done before. It was nothing dramatic—nothing more than watching 'live' theatre in a cinema. I know it's becoming increasingly popular, bringing theatre to a broader audience and at prices much easier on the pocket. Still, I've avoided it in the past. However, putting my reservations aside, I decided to sample the experience by going to see 'Dear England' written by James Graham.
I first read of the play being in production a couple of years ago and hoped then to see it on a London stage. Given the play's football theme, I suspected there would be little interest in it from a theatre audience. I was much mistaken, and sadly, when it opened last year, I couldn't get a ticket to see the play on any of my occasional visits south.
I love live theatre, whether the setting is a grand theatre such as the Theatre Royal in Newcastle, Bristol's Old Vic, the Globe or a small provincial theatre. I think the smallest venue to date in which I’ve watched has been Laurel's - more of a comedy club, really - in Northeast England's Whitley Bay. But the venue doesn't have to be a theatre. I've watched performances in the caves under Bristol, in a Beer Keller, art centres, and outdoors. I've had witches brush past me to make their entrance, sword blades sparking as they flashed inches from my nose and stood with the rest of the audience within a 'British submarine' leaning against parts of the set as actors moved around and above me in the play 'Kursk'.
Whether I've sat in the 'gods' or front circle or stalls (where, on one occasion, I caught a piece of broken pottery that bounced off the stage from the incredible set of Stephen Daldry's 'An Inspector Calls'), the experience of live theatre has always captivated me. A play may live long in my memory or reside there only briefly. Yet, I know what I watch during that performance is unique to that audience. The actors may play their parts many times and speak the same lines under the same direction, yet there is a nuance to each performance from that which came before or comes after—tempered by the actors' mood, a change in intonation or emphasis or the audience's reaction. In extreme and rare cases, a missed cue, a mangled line, or a mistime occurs. But that's part of the attraction. To paraphrase F Scott Fitzgerald, there are no second takes in live theatre.
It's interesting to see how a play develops over its run; I mentioned 'An Inspector Calls' - a favourite play of mine. I missed the first run of Stephen Daldry's much-acclaimed production, so I decided, on its revival a few years ago, to see both the opening night in Wimbledon Theatre and again the play's closing night after a touring run that finished in Bath's Theatre Royal. The difference was remarkable, with the actors having settled into their roles and the rhythm of the play, as the tour progressed. It reminded me of those rare occasions when I bought a tailored jacket. After the final fitting, the jacket is presentable but not comfortable. After a couple of wears, the hand stitching drops due to your body heat, the armholes will bed in, and the front and back drape will settle and hold in position. The effect is that the jacket becomes both presentable and more comfortable. As it was with the play, all involved had bedded into their roles, settled into their lines and comfortable in their performance. By the way, I believe Daldry's 'An Inspector Calls' will open again on another touring run in August of this year, playing in many towns and cities in the UK and ending the run in May next year. I read that some five million people have seen the production worldwide. I'm biased, but I'd highly recommend it.
Over my five decades of theatre-going, I've seen some excellent actors on stage: Yul Brenner, Judie Dench, Ben Wishart, Elizabeth Moss, Ellen Burstyn, Rupert Everett and Helen Mirren, to name but a very few. On one occasion in the intermission of a play headlined by ex-Dr Who actor David Tennant as Don Juan, I found myself in the gent's toilet standing alongside the then-current Dr Who, Peter Capaldi (it didn't seem the right time to ask for his autograph). But as well as the established actors, I've seen a plethora of those, both professional and amateur, who tread the boards because of the love they have for theatre rather than for fame and fortune, although maybe in the case of the professionals, some hope they will make that 'big break.'
On another occasion, Sarah, my wife, and I travelled to the other Newcastle - the one that is 'under Lyme' to see a young acting group's performance of 'Mrs Pepys' - an imagining from Elizabeth Pepys' perspective of life with her diarist husband. It was an engaging play with lively performances from all those involved. What I thought sweet was that after the performance, while Sarah and I enjoyed a drink al fresco on the balcony of the theatre bar, the cast, now in 'civvies' rather than 17th-century costume, drifted in to meet up with friends and family. Proud parents who heaped deserved praise on their children, siblings who pulled legs over some glitch they'd seen in the performance (you can always rely on siblings for that).
Because of everything I love about live theatre, I had deep reservations about whether watching it on a cinema screen would engage me. Things could have started better. Going to see a film means you'll enjoy or endure, depending upon your view, around twenty minutes or more of advertisements and trailers for new cinema releases. As this was 'live' theatre, I hoped it would be an exception. And indeed, there were no adverts for cars, sun cream or mobile phones. Sadly, that meant more time for the trailers for upcoming cinema releases. After those came advertisements for the National Theatre, followed by a string of forthcoming theatre productions. After twenty minutes, I was both bored and regretting my decision. The length of time these 'teasers' took wasn't getting me in the mood for the play.
Part of my enjoyment of theatre-going is anticipating the performance I am about to watch. If I'm with someone, it will be an animated conversation over a coffee or drink in the theatre bar on what we might expect to see and a discussion of other performances seen, earlier visits to this particular theatre or the actors we are about to watch. If I'm alone, it's browsing the programme while earwigging the conversation of others as, like me, their anticipation rises on the performance we are about to see. Then it's to the auditorium. Whether grand or simple, something about entering a theatre auditorium differs significantly from cinema. There is a greater sense of occasion and intimacy as we settle into our seats amid the hubbub of conversation and gaze towards the stage on which the actors are to perform.
Eventually, 'Dear England' began. The first difference I noted was that rather than a camera positioned to allow the cinema audience to see the sweep of the stage and thus let our eye wander as we wish through the performance. The multiple cameras under direction offered close-ups on some occasions and a different viewing angle of the stage on others. I confess I found it disconcerting, to begin with, but soon settled into this way of following the performance. Despite a slight sense of remoteness from the action and the camera's eye directing me where to look, the following two hours had me riveted.
At its core, 'Dear England' is a bitter-sweet exploration of the passion and pride that define the English football team within the national psyche. Through a series of engaging scenes and monologues, the play captures the raw emotion and intensity of the game, from the thrill of victory to the agony of defeat. Delving into the heart and soul of English football over the past sixty years, ‘Dear England’ offers a broader, compelling narrative that explores passion, national identity, and national pride, using humour and pathos to provide depth and insight.
Its richly drawn characters are central to the narrative of 'Dear England', each representing a different part of the footballing world. From the seasoned veteran grappling with the challenge of non-traditional hierarchical leadership to the young prodigy striving to prove himself on the international stage, the characters in 'Dear England' embody the hopes, dreams, and fears of players and fans alike. Watching the personal struggles and triumphs of those who wear the Three Lions crest, the audience gains insight into the player's challenges and sacrifices.
All the actors captured their real-life counterparts well, offering a nuanced portrayal of the complexities faced by the players as they navigate the highs and lows of international football. Joseph Fiennes was the essence of England manager Gareth Southgate, showing him as a quietly heroic, decent man, cultivating a culture of empowerment. Encouraging the players to take the risks necessary to achieve success. Josh Barrow, with his silly antics, caught England goalkeeper Jordan Pickford to a tee. However, the actor who steals the show is Will Close, who plays the role of Harry Kane, England's captain, as an awkward communicator with a curious voice. Will's performance often promotes laughter from the audience. Then, there is poignancy as he offers a later monologue, lamenting that people denigrate him for his vocal shortcomings. Unsurprisingly, Will walked away with an 'Olivier' for best supporting actor.
At the start of the play, Southgate watches his younger self missing the crucial penalty against Germany that sent the men's England team out of the semi-final of the UEFA Euro tournament in 1996. We then move forward to Southgate achieving the England football managerial role twenty years later while carrying the psychological burden of that penalty miss. Nevertheless, he brings together a talented, multicultural squad, realising that to survive the pressures of expectation, he needs to cultivate a supportive, collective culture that transcends violent, racist, hyper-masculine football narratives.
Penalties, the ultimate high-pressure football test, are a significant part of this drama, acting as a vehicle through which Southgate encourages the players to overcome the fear of failure and find strength and comradeship as a unified team. It is a fact that under Southgate, England broke their run of lousy penalty shootout record in the 2018 World Cup, reaching the semi-finals for the first time since 1990. Under Southgate's guidance, England learned how to play joyfully, lose with dignity, and survive trauma. Something proven when they lost the penalty shootout in the UEFA Euro 2020 final. A naive decision by Southgate just before that shootout unintentionally exposed unsuccessful penalty takers Marcus Rashford, Jadon Sancho, and Bukayo Saka to racist abuse from a small minority. However, unlike in 1996, the other players show love, support, and comradeship to their teammates, as do most fans.
I did not play football at anything like international level. Still, I did play in tournaments where a match occasionally demanded a penalty shootout. Even at the lower level at which I played; it was nerve-wracking. Football is a collective team sport with players interdependent on each other. Penalties psychologically strip away that sense of team and leave two players, the penalty taker and goalkeeper, in 'gladiatorial' combat. That one-to-one confrontation is more common in the other mainstay of English sport, cricket. Eleven players may be on a cricket team. Still, that game fundamentally centres around the 'combat' between a batter and a bowler. Each trying to overcome the other.
At one point in my career, Ralph Coates, who played at the highest level for Tottenham and England, worked for me after he retired from football. He was Head of Sport and Social Activity for the company for which I was Operations Director. Ralph had many fascinating football stories, and one thing he once said was that if you want to feel pressure, try taking a penalty in front of 50,000 people. Whatever the result of the kick, you will receive instant and vocal feedback.
When my son was in his early footballing days, at around seven years old, his school team entered a five-a-side competition. In the semi-final, my son's team and their opponents ended the game at 0:0. The organisers then said there would be penalties to decide who went through. I and many other parents suggested that a toss of a coin should decide the winner rather than have the youngsters suffer the penalty ordeal. But the children in both teams insisted they could take penalties. I confess I was somewhat relieved that all on my son's team missed their penalties, so none suffered the agony of being the one who missed and possibly costing the team the match.
But 'Dear England' is more than about the vagaries of England's football team. The play also explores the existential crisis of identity and unity, as it explores how football transcends boundaries of race, class, and nationality to bring people together or pull them apart. In an era marked by inequality and social and political divisions, the play serves as a powerful reminder of the unifying power of sport to bridge divides and forge connections across communities. By portraying the diverse backgrounds and experiences of players and fans, the play celebrates the power of football to foster a sense of community and belonging. By highlighting the shared values and aspirations that unite the English football team and its supporters, 'Dear England' promotes a message of inclusivity and solidarity that resonates far beyond the confines of football.
It came as no surprise to me that James Graham won the Olivier for Best New Play as 'Dear England' is a relevant exploration of the cultural significance of football in contemporary Britain. By celebrating the passion, pride, and camaraderie that define the English football team and its fans, the play reminds audiences of the values of teamwork, resilience, and sportsmanship in their own lives and the need to support others compassionately to compete in a psychologically safe environment.
And would I return to the cinema to watch live theatre? Yes, but only if it was a play I very much wished to see, and there was no way of seeing it on stage. Live theatre is about emotional engagement as the actors on stage play to their audience rather than to a camera. Watching in a cinema does not lend itself to that. At the end of 'Dear England', we could see on screen that the audience in the theatre joined the cast in singing 'Sweet Caroline' - a feel-good anthem now commonly heard at sporting events. I've sung it myself at the end of watching NFL games. Yet, we cinema viewers, as engaged as we might have been in the play, did not burst into song - we simply gathered our belongings and made our way to the exit.
And thank you Jim for your very kind words. I'm with you all the way with venues. They certainly add to the sense of occasion be they large or small. The latter adding to the intimacy some performances require. Watching my favourite Shakespeare play, Henry V at the Globe was a stupendous occasion. You could almost imagine yourself in early 17th century England. And watching his 'Scottish play' by torchlight moving from cave to cave with the actors enveloped you in the 'darkness' of the narrative.
I’m a little jealous of you Sarah. I think the writer’s challenge was despite all that Southgate did to change culture, England while vastly improved didn’t succeed in winning the trophy in Euro 2020 (or 2021 when it eventually happened) losing on penalties in the final. The narrative then one of unity in defeat that was a little trickier to deliver than the ultimate feel good ending that an England tournament win would have delivered. Maybe that will happen this time around 🤞