Drama

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW

by William Shakespeare in the Memorial Hall, 14th, 15th, 16th December

CAST in order of appearance

Sly Hostess A Lord Huntsmen of the Lord

Servants of the Lord

Players

Servingmen of the Lord

Bartholomew, a page Christopher Hazel Judy Gill Christopher Smith David Shepherd Alistair Barron Richard Hart Paul Gittins Barry Creasy John Spence Stephen Spence John Wilson David Hughes Christopher Monro Edmund Atha Christopher Hirst

Lucentio, later disguised as Cambio Tranio, later disguised as Lucentio Baptista Bianca Kate 1 his daughters Gremio Hortensio, later disguised at Litio Biondello, servant of Lucentio Petruchio Grumio, his servant Servant of Baptista Curtis Nathaniel Nichols Philip rServants of Petruchio Peter Walter J Pedant, later disguised as Vincentio Tailor Haberdasher Vincentio, father of Lucentio Widow, wife of Hortensio Neil Bowen Richard McMahon Paul Demuth Anne Hardcastle / Jane Craggs Christopher Pallant Jeremy Beadle Graeme Perks Christopher Brown Gavin Warnock Simon Dresser Timothy Ward Paul Spencer Simon Wallace Andrew Gray David Bretherton David Barron Simon Dench John Exell John Wilson Richard Long Judy Gill

Stage Crew Philip Dobbins

Assisted by John Cresswell, Kevin Dell, Fred Needler, David Parker,

Michael Powell and Nicholas Roberts Stage Manager Simon I'Anson

Assisted by Michael Naylor Lighting David Fotheringham Properties Michael Cluff Make-up Ann Hall

Assisted by Mary Du Croz, Michael Bidgood, John Whittle, John Littlefield, Bob Terry and Simon Tomlinson Programme designed by Michael Cluff Assistant Producer: Michael Cluff Play produced by Ian Lowe

"All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream" (Edgar Allan Poe)

Or is it a reality? This was the enigma which vexed Christopher Sly, the drunken commoner who found himself the victim of an illusion. Not only was he changed into a spoilt lord, and persuaded that his previous existence had been a dream, but, in this bemused state, he watched a play designed to question the very meaning of reality. The school production of "The Taming of the Shrew" at first caused the audience to identify with this ignorant tinker as fellow spectators, and then skilfully involved it in the illusion by moving Sly into the very action which he thought he observed. Thus, we all felt something of Sly's gross incompetence in Il discerning reality.

We were not alone. Lucentio, the idealist, looked upon the virtuous

Bianca "in a trance", and it was not until the end of the play that he awoke and saw her as essentially superficial. All who had seen, or heard report of Kate were prepared to dismiss her as beyond redemption. However, her reason, once freed from the chains of her father Baptista's partiality for Bianca, led her to disclose a considerate and sensitive disposition.

Into a play of multiple counterfeits and disguises—in which a servant,

Tranio, exchanges identity with his lord, a would-be suitor, Hortensio disguises himself as a music teacher, and a rather simple traveller called

Pedant impersonates a wealthy merchant—steps a realist, Petruchio. To the naive observer he is boorish, domineering, and greedy. Typical, the

Women's Liberation Movement might claim, of his sex. Yet a closer look reveals him as understanding that change comes from within, and education is essentially a leading out, and not a forcing in. Although this "leading" often involves sharp tugs, Kate conforms, not because she is brainwashed, but freely in accordance with her own reason. Perhaps the dress of an age of women's liberation was aptly worn in this production, since Kate was freed from the turmoil of her emotions to a calm and rational acceptance of life.

In the middle of the nineteenth century, there was a trend towards "purist" productions of Shakespearian plays, and many criticised them

was written in "The Times" as a criticism of "The Taming of the Shrew": "This arrangement (speaking of the lack of scenery), far from being flat and ineffective, tended to give closeness to the action, and by constantly allowing a great deal of stage room, afforded a sort of freedom co all the parties engaged. The audience did not in the least seem to feel the absence of scenery, and though the play lasted three hours and a half, the attention of the house never failed."

Mr. Lowe, the producer, went still further than his nineteenth century predecessors in involving the audience, since actors often entered from the auditorium itself, and formed part of the audience when not on stage. This held the audience more strongly under the power of the illusion, by partially destroying their identity.

Since the play had so large a cast, it is impossible to name all those who contributed so ably to a very enjoyable evening. Anne Hardcastle and Jane Craggs were certainly a great asset to the production, and Christopher Brown lived the part of Petruchio most convincingly. Tribute must be paid to Christopher Hazel and Gavin Warnock, who both had difficult roles to play. It is always hard for young people to play elderly gentlemen, and the character of Baptista was not always etched strongly enough. It seemed as if Paul Demuth tended to equate old age with feebleness, whereas Baptista was a man of strong principles. Neil Bowen as Lucentio, and Richard McMahon as Tranio, both delivered their pedantically witty, or philosophical speeches, with great aplomb. The lighting was most professional, and the hard work put in behind the scenes was evident from the smoothness of the performance.

In an age when the divorce rate increases yearly, and women have more freedom than ever before, it may be that a man no longer "commits his body to painful labour" while women lie "warm at home, secure and safe", but "foul contention" is still as undesirable as Kate found it, and both men and women would do well to study her humility. S.K.

NO QUARTER by Barry Bermange Cast

Landlord Fat Man Quiet Man Military Man Ian Lowe Edmund Field Peter Gardiner David Du Croz Set: John Gaastra assisted by David Livingston

Stage Manager: Simon I'Anson Lighting and Sound Effects: David Fotheringham assisted by Richard Hirt This play is set in an hotel in which all the lights have fused

It's not that I knock Modern Drama . . . oh no! But I like to mal a meal of it! . . . not a dry crust served up by a dumb waiter . . . ni Pinter . . . not Bermange. I'll Woolf Virginia with Albee any day . .

So I go along, ready to turn up my nose .. . 10

But it's compelling; it really is. Well, not the play, perhaps, . . . not at first; but the production; and the acting—they really make something of it. They're good: too good to ignore.

Up, up they go the three guests, up the hotel stairs, no lifts, no lights: power failed . . . led upwards by the landlord, then deserted. The hotel, ill-constructed, collapses around them and leaves them helpless, hopeless, stranded.

The crisis lays bare their souls, and here Absurdity is more astringent than Reality, for each man's exposed, nature is his Curse.

The Landlord—Ian Lowe: Sly . . . concealing slyness with incompetence . . . real or assumed? . . . in what degree? . . . Don't ask me!

But it chills.

And he's callous. He knows damn well they're all near hysteria, the others; but he clears off . . . self-satisfied. It's good . . . it's well done.

The Fat Man—poor Edmund Field: So piteous; those round imploring eyes!—a great performance this.

He's selfish too—his panic is only for himself. He can act; he shows us how it's done.

Peter Gardiner—the Quiet Man: What is his role? He's sinister. He does it well; like Boris Karloff. So reticent, and yet so menacing. His sadistic pleasure at the Fat Man's plight; his concern—so insincere. It's good . . . it's well done.

The Military Man—David Du Croz: He's dangerous . . . Mad, in that frightening way where violence comes unprovoked and unexpected; and, as soon, subsides. He strikes out at the Landlord, but it is he who gets his deserts . . . down the lift shaft. Well acted!

These men, so different, but all so selfish—what do they mean?

It's allegory, I suppose; but I'm no good at that. Some say it's doom, or fate; the hand of God; the Landlord is the fallen angel, or even God Himself, a callous careless God. Some say it's all Political—Military Dictatorship, Democracy and Anarchy struggling to Rule; all ultimately submerged beneath Incompetence.

I concur to a degree—perhaps it's any of these things, or all of them together . . . inextricable .. .

So I have learnt something . . . the Absurd does not have to explain . . . it offers Truth in a microcosm; exposes a fault. And the Fault is clear in all of us: self-interest is the Curse.

Thank you, then, all of you, you actors and you others behind the scenes.

And the play—when people take the trouble to do it well—we can earn from it. It is not bad; not bad at all. J.P.R.