Trained to Waterloo and took our picnic in the Festival Hall. Entertainment provided on this occasion by three burly men moving a grand piano from ground level, down to the Clore Ballroom and up onto the stage, with the only equipment being a small flat trolley. The sort of thing used by furniture removal men. Piano started without legs, on its side on the trolley. Down the ramp into the ballroom. Up against the stage and somehow the piano was tipped and slid up onto the stage. First two legs screwed on and somehow the piano was tipped over onto them. Then the big lift by two of the men while the other one screwed the third leg into place. Add pedals and other accessories and the job was done. We thought perhaps that the piano would need the attentions of the tuner at this point but there was no-one to hand to ask.
On into the bar of the Theatre Royal where we were able to admire the brass lion-head brackets holding the bar to the counter. Not something one sees that often. There is a military flavoured public house somewhere in Cardiff where they do rams' heads. And there is a large public house somewhere near Brockwell Park in south London, just possibly the place at Herne Hill station now called 'The Florence', where they used to do elephants, but I have not been in either place for some years now. The Theatre Royal also ran to an 'H' for Haymarket woven into their carpets. And some real brown stone to go with all the papier-mâché in the auditorium.
Handsome stage, but a stage which somehow resulted in a loss of sense of time, with action which actually spanned several years.
Subject matter interesting, with the tricky relations between the person courting, that is to say the courtier, and the person being courted, that is to say in this case the queen, always being good for discussion, illustration or portrayal. On the one side, how to be both good company and respectful. On the other, how to be one of chaps, while being more equal than the others. At slightly greater remove, the relations between the senior civil servant and his minister. But the play was more of a cartoon than a picture, doing a better job on the funny songs at the Kit-Kat club. At least that is where I assume they were done. Better, but verging on the irritatingly coarse.
The queen was shown as a rather hopeless case; dumpy, plain and awkward. Which cannot have been altogether fair as she reigned, reasonably successfully, despite numerous, mainly abortive pregnancies, for more than ten years.
And, somehow, for me anyway, Ms. Garai as the Duchess did not manage the important trick of playing a rather unpleasant person without being unpleasant herself and I found her a most unsympathetic person to watch on the stage. She didn't even manage to exhibit the glitter and gloss which the real Duchess must have had in spades to get on as well as she did.
But visually the queen and her duchess were a fair take on the two portraits posted earlier. So much so that I wonder now whether the people responsible for the players' appearance had the these two portraits in mind.
Beth Park rather better as Abigail Hill, perhaps an easier part. Chu Omambala not very convincing as the Duke of Marlborough. Hywel Morgan entertaining as Prince George, again perhaps an easier part.
Despite all this, an interesting play about an interesting relationship at an interesting point in our history.
Dined at the Edward Rayne in Raynes Park. That is to say the Wetherspoons you can see from the London bound trains. That is to say fish and chips all round, taken with a drop of Villa Maria sov blonk. Not bad at all, only complaint being that the chips were a bit salty and a bit strongly flavoured. They were also some kind of oven chips but one can hardly complain about that in a public house. A house which was busy enough without being unpleasantly crowded. Drinkers, smokers and eaters.
We failed to check whether the Edward Rayne in question was the shoe one turned up at reference 1.
Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/04/winters-tale.html.
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