The play’s the thing…

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…

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…

Shakespeare

I went to Live Theatre last week for the first time in many months. My visit was to a small theatre, the Watermill in Bagnor near Newbury. You can guess from the name that the building was once a working watermill. Serving through its life as a Corn Mill, a Paper Mill, and a Fullers Mill. Its conversion to a theatre happened in the mid-1960s.

The play I went to see was ‘Spike’, written by Ian Hislop and Nick Newman. The play’s description is of one, “that delves into the inner workings of one of our most unique and brilliantly irreverent comedy minds”. It sounds heavy, but it wasn’t. It was a comedy romp through the years when Spike wrote ‘The Goon Show’ for the BBC. Shows that would break through the then barriers of comedy on a tidal wave of zany humour (despite the best efforts of the BBC to hold back the torrent). As with all good comedy, the play had a poignancy, too, as Spike battled his mental health demons.

The intimacy of the Watermill added to my enjoyment of the performance. It allowed the actors to interact with those watching and the gallery-style auditorium offered a level of informality.

I can imagine Shakespearean productions work very well there as it recreates the settings, familiar to actors of his day.

I couldn’t help thinking it was such a shame that demolition became the fate of my hometown’s watermill. What a marvellous setting it too would have been, converted to a theatre.

I’ve written before about how much I enjoy Live Theatre. My first visit was to see a young theatre group perform ‘Macbeth’ in Newcastle’s Theatre Royal. It was back in 1971, and it was a school trip to help us, pupils, better understand the play as part of our English Literature ‘O’ Level studies. Not only did I better understand ‘Macbeth’, by watching the actors ‘strut their stuff’, but my imagination was also captured.

Over the past 50 years, I have seen many different plays in all sorts of varied venues. Yet the art form has never lost its magic for me. I’ve been fortunate to see memorable performances by the likes of, Yul Brynner, Elisabeth Moss, Ben Whishaw, Helen Mirren, Ellen Burstyn, Keira Knightly, David Tennant and Judi Dench. But equally enjoyed watching lesser-known names, youth ensembles and am-dram. I’ve watched in grand theatres as well as in bierkellers and all sorts of venues in-between.

My most memorable venue was the Redcliffe caves in Bristol. It was to again see ‘Macbeth’ with us, the audience, moving from cave to cave as each scene played out and actors making exits and entrances through and around the audience. Particularly impressive were the sword fights. Heavy blades that swept the air inches from one’s nose. It was all wonderfully atmospheric.

For me, part of the magic of Theatre is that what you see is what you get. There are no second takes. The same actors may deliver the same lines under the same direction for each performance. But each performance is still unique.

I recall seeing an opening production of ‘An Inspector Calls’ by J B Priestly at the Wimbledon Theatre. Then some months later, I decided to see the final performance of that run in Bath’s Theatre Royal. It might have been the same play yet transformed. All the creaking joints of the first performance were ‘oiled out’ by the end of the run. The actors now knew each other well and thus played off each other to better effect. They had also relaxed into their own parts and that too reflected in their performance.

I mentioned above the intimacy and informality created between actors and audiences in small venues. In the case of the Watermill, the interaction went further.

As I stood at that theatre bar after the performance, sipping a whisky and waiting for my taxi to the railway station, in walked John Dagleish, the actor playing Spike Milligan. Then more of the Company strolled in. As with John, they were meeting friends and acquaintances over a drink.

Reading the programme notes before the performance, I realised I should have seen John perform some years before. He was then playing the role of Ray Davies in ‘Sunny Afternoon’ the ‘jukebox musical’ that told the story of the Kinks. However, on the day Sarah and I attended, John had fallen ill, and his understudy took his part. John won awards for his own performances, yet I recall how wonderful a performance the understudy gave. It caused me to muse how it must feel to wait day after day for your chance. Then it finally comes, and you must be on top form. Acting is not for the undetermined.

Seeing the cast of ‘Spike’ in the bar, reminded me of a similar happening some years ago in the New Vic Theatre in Newcastle-under-Lyme.

Sarah and I travelled there to see ‘Mrs Pepys’ by Vanessa Brooks and after the performance, we retired to the theatre bar for a drink together.

The play had a noticeably young cast and after a while, several of the Company, now changed from their 17C costumes, drifted in to join parents and other family members. It was delightful seeing how proud those families were seeing their children/brother/sister treading the boards.

Covid may have knocked theatre-going sideways, and the fact that all the audience for ‘Spike’ wore masks shows the worry is not over yet. But it was great to be part of the Live Theatre experience again