Albion
By Mike Barlett
Directed by Rupert Goold
Design by Miriam Buether
Lighting Neil Austen
Almeida Theatre, Islington, London
Thursday 26th October 2017, 7.30 pm
CAST:
Nigel Betts – Edward
Edyta Budnik – Krystyna
Wil Coban – Weatherbury /James / Stanley
Christopher Fairbank – Matthew
Victoria Hamilton – Audrey Walters
Charlotte Hope – Zara, Audrey’s daughter
Margot Leicester – Cheryl
Vinette Robinson – Anna, Audrey’s dead son’s girlfriend
Nicholas Rowe – Paul Walters, Audrey’s husband
Helen Schlesinger – Katherine Sanchez, a writer friend
Luke Thallon – Gabriel
The buzz word about the play is Brexit allegory. Allegory is a strong word that suggests screamingly obvious Pilgrims Progress parallels be drawn, and though there are references and suggestions, I never found it to be that heavy handed. In fact, Audrey complains in the play about the allegorical names in her friend Katherine’s 597 page novel … You gave them names like, what was it, Patricia Smallmind and Gary Numb.
It doesn’t happen like that in this play. The title is Albion (the old name for Britain) which is also the name of the estate in the play, and it is about trying to create past glories. It’s about the people from the city on their country estate, so with the plot and angst, the Chekhov references are strong. I guess Bartlett did cod-Shakespeare in King Charles III, so then this references the Russian.
The set is an elongated oval garden, a lawn surrounded by a border of earth. The audience surround about 90% of it. Each Act has two scenes, separated by the entire cast replanting the border in Act One, removing the border plants in Act Two. This is done with solemnity to a song in semi-darkness.
Audrey Walters (Victoria Hamilton) has inherited (I guess) the Weatherbury estate, with its important gardens created by Captain Weatherbury to commemorate his own rescue from a pile of bodies at the Battle of Ypres. Her own son, James, also a captain, has been killed by a roadside bomb. She wants to recreate the gardens which have fallen into decay as a memorial to James.
Audrey (Victoria Hamilton) and Paul (Nicholas Rowe)
Audrey runs a successful company that sells all-white goods (The White Stuff? The White Company)… to white people, someone quips. Her second husband, Paul (Nicholas Rowe) is affectionate, amiable and basically a passenger along for the ride. According to the play text, he’s in his early 60s and she’s in her fifties. Actually, Nicholas Rowe is fifty, and looks younger.
With the estate, she has inherited Matthew the gardener and Cheryl the cleaner. Matthew is deeply loyal to the land, but is on part time and ageing. Cheryl is the classic cleaner, works for cash in hand only, and is slow and pretty useless. Both have Mummerset accents. I guess the rural areas were “Leavers” in Brexit. Towards the end, when Cheryl is recovering from cancer as Matthew is slipping into early dementia, they do get the best laugh of the play and a wave of warmth too. No plot spoiler. As a southerner of rural descent, I can’t stand generic Mummerset. Do Dorset. Do Norfolk, but not that theatrical blur.
Audrey’s daughter Zara is visiting. She is vaguely “in publishing” and hopes that mum will divvy out to pay for a London flat rental. Gabriel appears from next door, he is 19 and does a spot of window cleaning. I guess he represents youth. He wants to study creative writing at “Brookes” (Oxford Brookes). I remember a careers teacher telling me that Oxford Brookes drew students because of the Oxford in the name, whereas Anglia University in Cambridge failed to exploit its own location in its name. Zara wisely says he should study English Literature first. He gets a job helping Matthew in the garden. That “Creative Writing” undergrad course struck a chord for me. I remember getting very angry about a new university advertising a course in “Film Direction” with 30 places. I have studied both film studies and creative writing BUT not at age 19 as a first degree. Film Studies is a fascinating and demanding study that embraces many disciplines. It’s no worse than any other subject, better than most. I’ve taught it part-time too. What made me angry was that kids embarking on the course might believe this was a vocational qualification which would lead to a career as a director. Call it Film Studies, fine. But Film Directing? With 30 places at an ex-poly? I didn’t believe anyone would offer a course in Creative Writing at BA level, so checked. Oxford Brookes do … English With Creative Writing BA. Mike Bartlett is accurate.
Gabriel at the end of the play is the closest to allegory … he gives up on university, destroys his novel (i.e. His future) and gets a MacJob in Costa making coffee. That is what has happened to our High Streets. I guess there IS choice of employment and consumption: Costa, Starbucks or Nero. The reason? He can’t afford the debt of a student loan and significantly, he has to look after his mother. Mmm, as he’s about 19 his mum can’t be THAT aged but it serves to show the problem of our ageing population; You could add that care homes are largely staffed by European immigrants, at least they are around our home. No EU? Then we’ll have to change those adult nappies ourselves. They missed that one.
The bunch of her dependents and employees is contrasted with her more liberal and open minded neighbour, Edward. Audrey won’t open the gardens to visitors, nor let the people of the village come in for their annual garden festival. She’s closed her borders (but can hear the rock festival at Edward’s place next door). The important figure here is Krystyna. She is Polish, a hard worker, runs a domestic cleaning business efficiently, has proper business cards and can be paid legitimately by bank transfer rather than in cash. She takes over Cheryl’s job, and later ends up employing Cheryl on an agency basis.
Katherine (Helen Schlesinger) and Zara (Charlotte Hope )
Katherine Sanchez (Helen Schlesinger) is Audrey’s oldest friend, though it turns out that the blinkered Audrey knows little or nothing about her. She’s the only one who doesn’t know that Katherine is a famous and successful novelist. I can’t really work out what the allegory (if there is one) is here. OK, inexplicable Spanish surname, but never married, doesn’t like men. She has strong views, and Zara is attracted to her. They end up snogging passionately and Zara goes off to live with her. And when it doesn’t work out, partly due to Audrey putting pressure on Katherine, Zara exacts revenge on Katherine very publicly. But it probably doesn’t affect Katherine’s career in the slightest. Is Katherine Europe? Dunno,
Then we have Anna (Vinette Robinson). She was the dead son’s partner for three months before the bomb. She is attracted magnetically to the house and garden in his memory. She wants to live there and be close to James. There is a huge row when without asking anyone, Audrey scatters James’ ashes in the garden. Anna ends Act One in the rain pulling up clods of earth (and ashes) and shoving them up her skirt. In Act Two she’s pregnant and while I thought magic realism had come into play, she reveals that James had some sperm frozen before setting off to the un-named place with the roadside bombs. I hope for the sake of the actors, that 2018 sees fewer rain machines in plays. Have rain machine, will use it.
It’s the first “non-colour blind” London play in a long time. Anna is Afro-Caribbean in appearance. The rest of the cast is white. I don’t think it could be played any other way, I fear. Anna wants to stay as part of the family, but Audrey doesn’t want her. I assume the ethnicity in casting is deliberate.
Audrey & Katherine dressed in 1920s fancy dress
Act Two (which some would call Act One, Scene Two because it’s before the interval!) opens after some sort of murder mystery parlour game in 1920s costume – harking back to a golden age? It took me a while to work out why they were wearing evening dress … it was unclear. When Gabriel first appeared in evening dress at the start, I thought he might be a flashback to old Weatherbury and he (Luke Thallon) was playing a different character. Anna complains that the 1920s was an awful time:
To dress up like this. The 1920s were awful. War across the world, women having to fight for the vote, racism, rape, murder, child abuse.
That was odd. The 1920s was more like an island of hope between the horrors of the Great War, and the depression of the 1930s leading to the rise of Fascism. It was a false island of hope, but that is not pointed out. Didn’t get it. Maybe it’s meant to show Anna as knee-jerk “right on.” On war and the vote, it’s “wrong decade.”
Act 2, scene 2. Audrey. Matthew on bench
The resolution is oblique and switched around. Audrey has to give up the estate for conversion into flats. Now they’re leaving the place … but she changes her mind and decides to stay. If that’s the loudest Brexit reference, let’s hope it comes true … the deciding to stay. Paul says if they change their mind on the (house) deal, they’ll have to pay a huge fine. That was odd … you might get sued, you might pay penalties, but why “fines”?
The cast is excellent. Victoria Hamilton in particular is first rate as Audrey. Set and direction is first rate. Producing it virtually in the round means that it has less chance of a profitable move to the West End, and that it will be very different indeed if re-directed for a proscenium space.
I do wonder about the reviews acclaiming it as a beautiful and moving masterpiece. I thought it good, mildly thought provoking, and it was moving in several moments. But five stars? For “Best Play of 2017” I think The Ferryman is leagues ahead of it, and if we bring in lighter fare, there are several better ones this year. My companion says it’s a male writer and male director creating female characters who were inauthentic. She contrasts The Ferryman where she felt Jez Butterworth got it all right.
The last stage directions read:
The last pieces of the garden rot even more. The ground is returned to soil. The house is destroyed. Darkness. Soil. End of play.
Personally, I’d write that as “fade to black.”
The critical consensus is 4 or 5 star. I think 3 stars, BUT see below on the physical surroundings of my seat. However, I considered that, and stayed with 3 stars. On the other hand, we spent a long time discussing it the next day and bought the script … not at the Almeida on the day either. We went into the National Theatre bookshop to get it the next day.
***
MUSIC CREDITS
The set planting changes were done to powerful voice and acoustic guitar songs. I can’t find any credit anywhere in the programme! Why not? Who was it?
LENGTH
The critics are impatient. Several reviews say it’s a 3 hour play. That includes the interval, so compared to the classics, it’s only average or slightly shorter. The fact that so many mention the length though suggest them being less than totally enthralled. It felt long to me, but I think that was only because our seats were so appallingly uncomfortable.
SEATS
B22 and B23 in the circle. They are unacceptable, I think the worst ever seats in any British theatre, even the grubby old West End ones, and there are some awful ones. I have been to the Almeida several times, but never had seats like this. There is no leg room. At 6ft 2 inches my legs were actually bent back under me. There was a low wooden bar. If I put my feet on this to straighten my leg from the knee down, my knee was painfully trapped under the bar above. People’s heads inches away from my feet gave no room for adjusting. The section to the right of us had a proper metal foot bar. This was just the edge of a plank of wood. The whole at £39.50 was an excruciating experience, and it is a tribute to the play that I did not leave at half time. I did think about it after 30 minutes. They configure the Almeida in different ways every time, but I’d guess these upstairs seats are pretty fixed, and they are not fit for six footers. My five foot companion even found she felt trapped. If I could only get similar seats again, no writer nor cast would attract me to the Almeida. My view of the play is therefore jaundiced. My view of the Almeida theatre even more so. Try putting the critics in our seats next time! Better, have the artistic director and management watching from those seats. Are any of them over 6 foot?
Other theatres put “RESTRICTED LEGROOM” and “RESTRICTED VIEW” on their seating plans. Bath Theatre Royal repeats it on the ticket. Essential information.
The problem I had in concentrating because of extreme discomfort probably knocked off a star in my perception of the play.
THE BREXIT ANGLE
Christopher Hart’s two-star Sunday Times review is way out of step with everyone else. While I just can’t understand those five star rapturous reviews, I also disagree with his take on it. In the words of today,”he goes off on one.”
Albion is an unimaginative small-minded piece playing safely to an approving audience of the North-London faithful … no one appeared to know the difference between a spade and a shovel … an exquisitely neat symbol for their lofty distance from the everyday world of work. The self-admiring metropolitan elite in all their glory.
I like fierce opinions, even when I disagree with them. I feel it is Islington itself that angers him as much as, or even rather than, the play. Jeremy Corbyn is the local MP, and after walking through the lovely lanes of Camden Passage, having dinner in Ottolenghi (an essential part of an Almeida visit for us) and enjoying premium theatre at below West End prices (I expect he had a decent seat), I can see that someone could view it as the centre of a “liberal elite” and in the days when Tony Blair was a resident, the phrase “champagne socialism” was levied against the inhabitants. Mr Hart seethes at the confusion of ‘spade’ and ‘shovel’ in the text, indicating his distaste for us “townies.” I would have called the item in the play a spade too, as in the text. I thought a shovel had turned up sides. And you can use a spade for shovelling, though you can’t use a shovel for digging.
Mr Hart then quotes a survey at the National Theatre showing that 92% of the audience were ‘Remainers.’However, I started thinking about that 92% of National Theatregoers, who like us, are Remainers. If you look at the places that voted Remain … London, Kingston-on-Thames, central Manchester, Bath, Bristol, Brighton, Norwich, Oxford, Cambridge, Winchester, Edinburgh; it may be that having and supporting good theatres (a sign of an educated audience) and voting “Remain” have a direct relationship. The exceptions, pleasant towns with great theatres that apparently voted “leave,” are Chichester, Stratford-upon-Avon, Salisbury. In all three cases, it was a narrow margin, and in all three cases they are smaller towns in rural surroundings, which are not at all reliant on a local audience. I go to all three, and the majority of the audience have travelled. To our eternal shame, our home town, Poole was pro-Leave, and it is the home of the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra with adjoining theatres, but I have spoken to people in Stratford and in Bath who travel to Poole to see the orchestra.
PROGRAMME
Long pointless essays on the British and gardening, but none of the stuff about intent or direction or Brexit that I wanted to read. A waste, really. A poor programme with a nice cover, though as everything in the play is about a “red garden” commemorating bloodshed in World War One, why is the cover image on programme and playscript “yellow flowers”? If you know the reason, please comment.
WHAT THE PAPERS SAID
5
Domenic Cavendish, Telegraph *****
In her psychological complexity and maternal solicitude lies Bartlett’s consummate even-handedness. We’re in, to quote the garden scene from Richard II, the “fearful’st time”. Albion makes those fears flower into something remarkable. Our country needs it.
Paul Taylor, The Independent *****
Albion is a work of deeply absorbing emotional richness and symphonic density, in the tradition of plays such as The Cherry Orchard that focus on a family in a country house during pivotal times
Felicity Peel, Everything Theatre, *****
4
Michael Billington, The Guardian ****
It all makes for a long evening, but a rich one: a modern equivalent of Shaw’s Heartbreak House.
Henry Hitchings, Evening Standard ****
Susannah Clapp, Observer ****
There is sketchiness and bulging: the attempt is to make this a truly expansive picture of Britain on the brink of Brexit. Some absurdity, too: no woman should be obliged to run around in the rain rubbing earth – and possibly cremated ashes – into her groin.
Andrzej Lukowski, Time Out, ****
It is, mostly, powerfully bittersweet stuff, in its own sighing way the first major Brexit play.
Sam Marlowe, The Stage ****
In fact, while the setting appears genteel, the drama goes for the gut. It’s gloriously rich, achingly sad, and quite beautiful.
Sarah Crompton, What’s On Stage ****
Sarah Hemming, Financial Times, ****
2
Christopher Hart, Sunday Times **
A heavy-handed Brexit allegory that panders to its Islington audience is a waste of a fine cast
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