When we started planning our production of The Price, the US was still reeling from the subprime mortgage crisis but here in the UK we only beginning to consider the impact of a potential credit crunch. As we continued to develop The Price, credit crunch turned into economic downturn; and now we’re talking about fully-fledged recession. In such a climate seeing The Price, which opened last week, is somewhat uncanny.
It’s the story of two brothers selling off their dead father’s furniture, which is piled all around them, evoking memories that are warm, pleasant – and distressing. The brothers were forced into different life choices during the Depression, and have spent their lives paying for those choices. It’s a wonderful piece of work – Arthur Miller’s typically lucid, muscular writing, and with that huge sympathy and sensitivity he always displays towards the working man. But – and this is where watching the play at a time of economic crisis becomes an uplifting experience – Miller’s sense of what is important in life constitutes a reminder that money doesn’t buy love; that good relationships and self-fulfilment are the things that really matter. One of his most extraordinary characters, secondhand furniture dealer Solomon, a man in his nineties, counts out all the depressions he’s seen in his life, an optimistic symbol of endurance and patience.
The Price
In pictures: Perfect pairing makes for theatre gold
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As a keen gardener January sees me venturing outside despite frost and rain, and the greenhouse becomes a haven. The craving for colour and scent that begins with the start of the new year is fulfilled by witch hazel and early bulbs, but tending to the dahlia tubers that are carefully packed under the shed staging is where the most exciting promises reside. So, way back last summer, when I was dead heading the blooms and cutting for the house, I was also planning our production of A Voyage Round My Father. Set in a garden bursting with blowsy dahlias, I felt there could be nothing more appropriate to the new year. Whilst they were flowering we had the presence of mind to photograph some of the blooms in case we needed them for a production that would be created in the depths of January.
Today our planning came to fruition. Two glass gobos arrived in the post, each bearing a striking red Bishop of Llandaff bloom. They were slotted into lanterns in the rig, and projected into the centre of the stage – a stunning image with which to open a play that promises an uplifting evening of vibrant colour.
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Just moments before we began the final rehearsal for A Voyage Round My Father we received the news that John Mortimer had died earlier that day. He and Harold Pinter’s first plays had been performed together on the same bill, so it was a sobering silence that fell upon our group as we considered the loss of two significant playwrights within weeks of each other, and the play we were about to run which opens with an eight year old Mortimer going to school and ends with the death of his own father. It was hard to remain quiet for long, though, knowing what we were about to see: an autobiography about a man with a voracious appetite for life and an incisive wit; an irrepressible good humour and 85 years of spectacular achievement not only in the arts but also in the legal world. I can’t think of a greater tribute the arts can return than welcoming audiences to a new staging of his best-known play only a week after his passing.
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On Monday we moved rehearsals into the new building. It smells new, is shiny and clean, and everything about it is refreshing. A huge window looks out over the car park, leaving us feeling very exposed when rehearsing after dark, but also gives a sense of real engagement with the outside world. Audiences arriving to see the show can clearly see us preparing the next one. This feeling of connectedness is very appropriate, since the new Workspace will mostly accommodate the Education and Borderlines activities through which we reach out to our local communities.
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Last night to one of Borderlines’ many presentations this week. Over four nights they are presenting stories from the Arabian Nights, selecting from some of the 995 stories that we don’t visit in the main stage production. On Friday the Young People’s Theatre Company will present Aladdin; tonight Strathcross and Bridging the Gap, two of the groups we work with comprising learning disabled actors, will present the stories of the Fisherman and the Vizir Who was Punished; last night our group for English for Speakers of Other Languages presented the stories of The Ruined Man Who Became Rich Again Through A Dream and the story of Camaralzaman and Badoura.
With mulled wine and mince pies in the foyer and the studio decked out in colourful silken drapes it was quite an event. As the actors tumbled in, wearing bright, gold trimmed and bejewelled costumes, I was amazed – the line seemed to go on and on! The group, comprising people from all over the world – one of whom had arrived in the UK only two days before – had brought friends and family along, filling the studio with languages including Kurdish, Hungarian, Iranian, Egyptian, Croatian, Chinese, a range of African languages. An apt audience for a collection of stories that range around the world from Baghdad to Istanbul to China to Cairo.
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