Drama

MY FAIR LADY

It is impossible to watch a production of My Fair Lady without conjuring up a mental picture of Rex Harrison, Audrey Hepburn, Stanley Holloway and the rest. Comparisons are inevitable. Ian Lowe's cast of actors and musicians can hold their heads up high when set against the stars of that classic film, and that is a measure of the success of this production.

The difficulties in staging a show of this scale at a School are enormous. It requires exceptional talent to be able to act and sing and dance equally well. Very few of the great stars of stage and screen have been able to do it. (One is reminded of the famous comment made by a talent scout who had just auditioned a young man called Fred Astaire: "Can't act. Can't sing. Can dance a bit".) It is, therefore, asking an awful lot of School pupils to expect them to act, sing and move equally well, especially in an auditorium where the atmosphere and acoustics are unhelpful. To have staged a successful show within these constraints is a remarkable achievement indeed.

The leading roles were taken by Sally Hamilton and Peter Nowell, both of whom performed admirably. Peter's diction was superb: he captured Higgins' dryly academic pedantry just right. He would probably have been happier in Pygmalion, because there was a touch of selfconsciousness about his singing and movement. Sally gave a magnificent all-round performance as Eliza: she was totally uninhibited in her movements and her singing, and was equally credible both before and after her metamorphosis by Higgins. You would have to go a long way to see a better individual performance in a School production. Ellis Parry gave capable support to the principals as the kindly old cove, Colonel Pickering, and Rachel Batty was suitably matronly as Mrs. Pearce. Nicholas Barham-Hall sang beautifully as the pusillanimous Freddy.

The other parts gave the director plenty of scope for typecasting. That engaging, charismatic rogue, Alfred P. Doolittle, was played by that engaging, charismatic rogue Leon Panitzke. Mrs. Higgins, a lady who stands no nonsense, was played by the Head of School, a lady who stands no nonsense. Everybody else was played by everybody else.

The musical accompaniment, under Andrew Wright's direction, was impeccable, and John Brown deserves credit for his set: the racecourse scene was particularly effective. Behind the scenes, James Butler flicked switches with well-oiled efficiency, while Kirsten Luckins and Dick Hubbard made sure that everything ran with the slick smoothness of a finely-tuned machine — or at least appeared to. It was a thoroughly enjoyable show, the noholds-barred rendering of "Get me to the Church" being especially memorable. Congratulations to all involved. D. S. Newman

THE CAST

Eliza Doolittle Sally Hamilton Henry Higgins Peter Nowell Alfred P. Doolittle Leon Panitzke Colonel Pickering Ellis Parry Mrs. Higgins Vicki Inness Freddy Eynsford-Hill Nicholas Barham-Hall Mrs. Eynsford-Hill AH Holley Mrs. Pearce Rachel Batty

other parts played by members of

THE CHORUS

Claire Altman, Simon Banks, Charlie Barlow, Louise Blackburn, James Bowling, Louise Copley, Charlotte Cranston, Lindsay Daniel, Jeremy Doncaster, Sarah Durham, Clare Farrow, Paul Ferrow, Sophie Greeves, Richard Griggs, Charles Metcalfe, Jane Mindenhall, Jason Morris, Rachel Robertson, Adrian Robinson, Paul Simpson, Richard Tucker, Emma Ward, Eleanor White, Kathryn Wood.

MUSICIANS Eleanor McCowen flute Jane Wright oboe Martin Kershaw clarinet Timothy Dunn clarinet Bill Riley trumpet Sarah Glover trumpet Richard Pyne trombone Matthew Williams .percussion Jose Honing violin Roger Carrington violin Shan Sriharan violin Alastair Alton violin Tiffany Richards viola Malcolm Brown cello Christopher Braganza bass Keith Pemberton .piano Rehearsal pianist David Spencer

BACKSTAGE John Brown set Jean Dench costume James Butler lighting Chris Hall props

with the assistance of many other members of the School

ASSISTANT PRODUCER Kirsten Luckins PRODUCER Dick Hubbard MUSICAL DIRECTOR Andrew Wright DIRECTOR Ian Lowe

The academic year 1988-89 was a particularly impressive one for drama in the School with a major School production, two self produced lower sixth plays and two short third year plays. All five were performed in what is now the Alcuin Library and they made a fitting climax to that building's time as a Drama Centre. "Antony and Cleopatra" is a huge play both in its scope and in the demands it makes on its cast — so much so that it is rarely performed outside the professional theatre. For a School to attempt it (even in this scaled down "chamber" version) is a folly worthy of the lovers themselves, to make an audience believe the folly a glorious success is for art indeed to triumph over reality. The production's strength lay in its staging (Rome at one end of the Drama Centre, Egypt at the other and the conflict between the two worlds played out on a small stage in the middle) and in the strength in depth of the cast. Four actors inevitably dominated: Tim Cooper's cold, precise, computerised Caesar; James Berrington's cynical but emotional Enobarbus (whose memorable death was skilfully enhanced by James Butler's subtle lighting); Alan Chiswick's finely controlled Antony (a remarkable first stage appearance) and Lisa Myers' Cleopatra. While the part's "infinite variety" makes it impossible for any one interpretation to satisfy all the people all of the time, the intensity of her performance was achingly moving — to hear her "dream" speech on the Friday night was quite worth the loss of the material world. The whole production — modern dress, minimalist, fast moving from all directions — was very much in the Ian Lowe house style: it will be interesting to see whether the style changes if and when he has a new house to produce in.

Certainly the style of "Absurd Person Singular" could not have been more different with the Drama Centre being used in a conventional, quasi proscenium arch way and to brilliant effect. This was one of the best pupil directed plays the School has ever seen: funny, moving and beautifully detailed with all six of the cast turning in assured performances. So good was the ensemble playing that picking out individuals seems invidious, but I will long remember Ellis Parry's hands and of the three very strong female roles, Kirsten Luckins' heartbreakingly funny failure to commit suicide. Judith Hopton and Andrew Heslop produced — and how!

Peter Nowell and John Davidson took the responsibility for a version of "Rosancrantz and Guildenstern are Dead" using the wayward, but very considerable, talents of Chris Rod well and Leon Panitzke (or possibly the other way round) in the title roles. Their cutting had left the play itself almost incomprehensible but who cared (except for the odd pedantic English specialist) when each individual scene achieved a slickness and spontaneity that brought the house down. It wasn't Shakespeare, it wasn't even Stoppard but it was great entertainment.

It was particularly pleasing to see two third form plays in the summer term. The shortage of staff able to find time to put on productions (do the junior games teams have similar problems?) means that middle School drama is far too often neglected. Special thanks therefore to David Newman for staging "The Gold of Lies" and "Package Holiday" and hence giving the opportunity for over thirty perspiring (O.K., perhaps I do mean aspiring, but it was summer and the "Package Holiday" cast did a lot of running) actors, actresses and stage staff to learn important skills. Neither play would win a prize for depth or subtlety, but each gives the chance for lively performances that was fully seized by what is clearly a talented year. Chris Braganza's natural confidence, Jack Weatherall's rapport with the audience and Vicki Gill's assurance and stage presence particularly caught the eye — three names to watch out for in the future. /. M. K. Lowe

DEEP WATER

Congratulations to all those Peterites who were involved in this production, which was staged in St. Michael-le-Belfrey Church at the end of the Easter holidays. Performed by the Teenact Theatre Company, this musical about Noah was written by Antony Dunn (script and lyrics) and Andrew Collier (music). Antony also directed the show, while Andrew organised all aspects of the production — a remarkable achievement for a thirdformer (or anyone else, for that matter).

The show was a great success. The youngsters threw themselves into it with great gusto, enthusiasm and confidence, creating a superb atmosphere. What really struck me was how relaxed they all seemed to be, and I am sure that the fact that the show was all their own work played a key role here: in the absence of adults to point out all the things that could go wrong, they assumed nothing would and consequently nothing did. It was a joyous expression of the talent and exuberance of youth.

The central figure of Noah was played by Antony himself, in laidback style. The script afforded him plenty of scope to deliver throwaway one-liners and nobody in the audience minded that the links with the biblical character were tenuous to say the least. He received excellent support from the rest of the cast, especially his three rock 'n' rolling sons Shem, Ham and Japheth, alias Matthew Pittman, Paul Sandle and James Fieldsend. James Fieldsend was particularly impressive, showing admirable stage presence. But it was Steven Clegg who stole the show as the camp, limp-wristed King of the Pirates (I don't remember them featuring in Genesis!).

The musical accompaniment explored various different genres, in the style of a Rice/Lloyd Webber production. Some of the songs stood comparison with anything from Joseph, especially the irresistibly catchy 'Forty Days and Forty Nights' which concluded the first act and made a rousing encore. Many of the audience were still humming to themselves long after the show had ended.

The show's impact was enhanced by radio throatmicrophones and special effects which added a professional touch to the production. Apparently another show is planned for 1991 with Andrew and Antony already hard at work preparing it. We look forward to it eagerly: if it's anything like this one it will be very entertaining as well as being great fun.

D. S. Newman

I was struck first of all by the sheer energy of this production and then by the sense of space it conjured up from the cramped memorial hall stage. These impressions were in no small part due to the tremendous sets created by the Art Department: the bustle of the street, the detailed fussiness of Higgins' rooms, and the colourful tiers of the racecourse grandstand.

They were confirmed throughout the action. As so often, Ian Lowe (type?)-cast brilliantly for the major parts and found nice touches for the others — even down to the opening in which the chorus moved through the audience — a way of making everything more intimate across the proscenium which can so often cut the stage off from the hall in here. Leon Panitzke, for instance, as Eliza's father, was a convincing blend of a man who wanted to deny all responsibility for his own failures and take as much as possible of the credit for someone else's successes — at any rate, until it all became too much for the old chap.

Rachel Batty played Mrs. Pearce effectively. In a play which is so much about transcending barriers, she was a symbol of stability. By her very steadiness, one understood the magnitude of the task Higgins saw himself undertaking in the transformation of Eliza. Equally, her humanity gave early clues as to what Higgins might find in Eliza after close enough contact.

Rachel acted the part of a convincing mediator between the two worlds, at the same time as making us aware that Higgins probably saw her as little more than a robot capable of serving him without fuss or error.

Nicholas Barham-Hall played most poignantly the part of the boy genuinely and wholeheartedly in love with Eliza: one longed for Higgins to find the same unconditional capacity in time to avoid all the loneliness of being too late.

Victoria Inness was superb as Mrs. Higgins, Higgins' mother: she dominated the scene in which Eliza's transformation was proved at the races. Her capacity to instill wisdom in her son was unquestionable — and interestingly a function of her own sense of the right order of things. This sense seems so much stronger in Higgins himself, yet in him is actually distorted by containing no acknowledgment of humanity — at least, until (almost?) too late.

Colonel Pickering was a splendid foil to Higgins. Ellis Parry gave a gentle counterpoint to Higgins' interest in the experiment being conducted on Eliza. At first he portrayed Pickering as a gentle bachelor, slightly out of his depth in the intensity of Higgins' intellectual curiosity. But gradually it unfolded that Pickering's curiosity is much more securely founded than Higgins': its purpose is to learn the more and better about people (and it does lead to such understanding); while Higgins' intellectual curiosity is a means of occupying himself in the avoidance of having to confront knowledge about people — first of all, the knowledge that creatures like Eliza (whether we mean 'the lower classes' or 'women') are people; secondly (and perhaps even more problematically) knowledge about his own self and humanity.

I entirely believed in Peter Nowell as Professor Higgins, the philologist and misogynist — perhaps to the point of seeing him as a misanthropist even more strongly. His performance made it clear that Higgins' dislike of women is powerful, at the same time as suggesting that even his relations with men are a matter of habit rather than choice: he gets on with them because he has got used to them through School and University as sources of knowledge or company rather than as people in their own right. The whole tenor of Higgins' investigation into language and dialect is to reduce the potential, the diversity, the variety of human life to predictable, analysable automatism. His treatment of Eliza is appalling; but Peter Nowell made us confront the realisation that Higgins' treatment of himself is just as harsh, just as dehumanising.

Higgins' realisation about Eliza came over very poignantly: the scene in which Eliza confronts his conceit and self-absorbtion to make him realise that he is not — and does not want to be — entirely self-sufficient came across with enough force to make us wish the best for both of them. Intriguingly, it also came across enigmatically enough to leave us wondering what 'bests' these would be, and whether it could be the same for each. What is the 'happy ending' for the central people in "My Fair Lady"?

Eliza Doolittle was triumphantly portrayed by Sally Hamilton: if ever the impression of energy in the production might have faded, she prevented it. In the early stages of this part, a difficult double act is called for. Eliza needs to be convincingly a Cockney flower-girl, so much of the sound of Bow Bells that people like Mrs. Pearce and Colonel Pickering — and, for that matter, Professor Higgins — must see her as a member of a tribe so different that to pass her off as one of their own seems impossible. At the same time, the audience should be made aware of what Mrs. Pearce and Colonel Pickering would not think, and Higgins could not think, that she is 'gentle' in the most widely human sense of the word: she is already 'a lady'. Sally succeeded in this, partly through the longings conveyed in her songs, partly through the force of indignation she displayed when ill-treated by Higgins (notably strong when he slighted her as a lady), and partly through the dignity and determination with which she submitted herself to Higgins' regimen. She was entirely convincing in her transformation; and the strength of character with which she challenged Higgins' identity at the end was most moving.

The musicians gave tremendous support to the drama: the rhythm of the whole production depended greatly on them, and they sustained it with vigour. They never overwhelmed the singers - which is difficult in the memorial hall — and they never lost the mood emanating from the stage: nostalgic, misogynistic, questioning, longing, triumphant, poignant.