Peter Viney's Blog

Book and Lyrics by Richard Hough
Music by Ben Morales Frost
Based on the novel / screenplay by Graham Greene

Directed by Abigail Pickard Price
Set and costume by Kat Heath
Co-orchestration Ben Morles Frost and Eliane Correa
Choreography by Andrea Pelaez

12 May 2022, 14.30
The Watermill Theatre, Bagnol, Newbury

CAST

Daniella Agredo Piper– Milly Wormwold,
plus alto saxiphone, flute, piano, percussion
Alvaro Flores – Seguera / Hawthorne / Marco
plus guitar, piano, trumpet, congas, percussion
Paula James – Beatrice / Maria
plus guitar, percussion
Adam Keast – Dr Hasselbacher / The Chief
Double bass, percussion
Nigel Lister – James Wormwold
plus guitar, double bass, percussion
Antonio Sanchez – on stage musical director
Piano

The tiny Watermill Theatre is a great favourite, and it was a delight to be back there after nearly three Covid- years, in our favourite front row seats (people seem to avoid them as”too close” given the flat floor.)

You expect high energy from Watermill productions, and you don’t get higher energy than this. How do they cast?

Wanted: actress, mid-20s to play a 17 year old. Should look Cuban. Must be able to sing lead, sing backing vocals and dance. Saxophone, flute, piano and percussion required. Some Spanish language essential.

Well, that was Daniella Agredo Piper as Milly. We know musical actors have to be able to sing, dance and act, but at the Watermill they add backing themselves and each other too.

In their annual Shakespeare productions, this is for a few songs, but in Our Man in Havana, there are close to twenty songs.

Many of those involved have Spanish / Latin American connections judging by the names.There are several lines in Spanish, and a song in Spanish – we assume Milly’s mother was Cuban, and she sometimes talks to her dad in Spanish. It gives a flavour.

In preparation, we re-watched the original 1959 film two nights earlier. See FILM REVIEW here for more plot and background details. Briefly (more in the film review):

James Wormwold is a vacuum cleaner salesman in Havana, around the time of the 1959 revolution.He is divorced. His daughter, Milly is just about to be seventeen, and has expensive tastes in shopping and clothes … in the musical, she has a far greater percentage role than in the film, where she is also definitely English. Milly is being pursued by the Chief of Police, Captain Seguero.

One day, an Englishman walks into the shop. Does he want to buy a vacuum cleaner or not? Wormwold has just discovered that Milly has bought a horse on his account.

Wormwold is approached to become a British intelligence agent by Hawthorne, who runs British intelligence in the Caribbean. He needs the money and agrees. His friend Hasselbacher advises him. Unable to do any actual spying Wormwold invents a team of agents and draws plans of “secret weapons” based on his vacuum cleaners. He pretends that his agent, a pilot named Raoul, photographed them. London is impressed and sends Beatrice to assist him. Hasselbacher is some kind of agent too for a rival power.

From about that point, the musical plot veers strongly away from the film. The musical is more specific about Soviet agents (in retrospective that makes sense, though the film left it enigmatic with a surprise jokey ending). The main issue is that with the tiny cast, they have no one to play Carter. Carter in the novel is the one who tries to poison Wormwold, and who has killed Hasselbacher. I had thought that as Hasselbacher is killed off stage, they could double (or rather treble) Hasselbacher with Carter, but they don’t. So they make heavy plot and character changes instead. More on that later. But they do work.

The cast of five plus pianist all deserve the highest accolades, as does the slick direction and deeply detailed and fluid set design. People are doing set changes while singing or doing lines. The two on stage pianos become urinals, offices, a car. Reviewers pick out Alvara Flores as Hawthorne, Seguero, percussion, piano, guitar and trumpet, but everyone works in a great ensemble.Where they deserve the highest praise is in managing a full on musical with dance in such a cramped and tiny space.

One of our very favourite scenes is when Seguero interrupts Milly’s 17th birthday to sing a sleazy torch song to her. Her reactions of embarrassment, then horror then disgust were a joy to watch. It was a memorable performance by both actors.

They retained the checkers match from the film – but they set up the board very roughly with three rows of whisky miniatures not two and just mixed clear and green bottles. The film was much more careful in one side being clear, the other dark, and the film also made it longer.

A few points. Like any brand new musical, it suffers because no one in the audience knows the tunes. I thought it was much more exciting on the Cuban style than on the mock Noël Coward “Englishman” songs. This is my constant gripe at musicals, but when you look at the greatest ones, they use the songs to accentuate and comment on the narrative, but they do not expect songs to explain and further the basic plot. It happens here. Important new plot points are within the song lyrics. As ever, there are some words set to meandering music. I would cut a few songs, replace them with dialogue and focus on the stronger songs. There is that “unfamiliar” issue, which I’d solve by putting Guantanamera into a couple of scenes with dancing. Everyone knows the most famous Cuban tune. It would lift it. Yo soy un hombre sincero fits the protests of all the male characters too. (They’re not).

Watching the film just before was instructive. I thought both Hawthorne and Beatrice tried so hard to emulate that mannered, rapid, clipped Advanced Received Pronunciation of Coward, Guinness, Richardson and the rest, that they just veered into pastiche. Wormwold’s Received Pronunciation was just half a notch down the scale, so didn’t sound so “put on.” The accent has gone into the dustbin of history, except for Prince Charles (“hice” for house). You can sound posh at a slightly lower level – for Coward et al, it was their natural accent.

A language note. In the film, the vacuum cleaners are hoover with a small H, which would have annoyed the manufacturer. Here they have Electrolux.

Will it tour? So much of the impact is in doing it with so few in the cast. A slightly wider stage would help. As the Guardian review suggests, a little post-mortem workshop time between this premiere run and a tour might help, though the length … 70 minutes first part, 50 minutes second part is spot on.

PLOT CHANGES

Graham Greene wrote both the novel and screenplay, and in the same year. They import chunks of dialogue from the film, though sometimes in changed order. They also replace some great film dialogue with weaker versions. What interests me is the Graham Greene estate. Back in the1 980s, we used an extract from Dr Fischer of Geneva in a text book. The permission letter was strict and clear. Not one iota of Greene’s text could be altered. I recall this because when an Americanization was done, we used the same text (though for a third of our royalty, I did think the adaptor might have found an American text instead!) The US editor wanted to “correct” Greene’s grammar and punctuation to her rigid prescriptive ideas. We sent the permissions letter with a note to say ‘No chance’ I’m glad we did. But I’ve used many extracts from novels, and Greene’s permissions letter was the most adamant I’ve seen. I wonder how they got past the estate with such major changes. Still, he died thirty years ago. I doubt they feel so strict.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAID

A three star consensus / average. I’m wavering between 3 star (the music) and four star plus (direction and performance).

Judi Herman, What’s On Stage ****
It’s down to a terrific team – onstage MD Antonio Sanchez, movement director Andrea Pelaez and associate choreographer Chris Cuming – that the music and action are seamless on designer Kat Heath’s extraordinarily versatile set. The breathtakingly artful switching of vital props and set and especially keyboards to provide different locations is brilliantly orchestrated on the Watermill’s tiny stage. And the whole is equally brilliantly lit by lighting designer Robbie Butler, with a glowing mosaic of colour that blends to create that sultry exoticism as the action heats up.

Mark Lawson., The Guardian ***
The performers deserve an ensemble award for astonishing multi-skilling. Lister accompanies on double bass or guitar the few scenes he isn’t in. Adam Keast, fast-changing between the parts of a Whitehall spymaster and a Cuban secret policeman*, also finds time for string and percussion. Paula James plays two contrasting women, plus guitar and drums. On the tiny stage, Abigail Pickard Price’s neat direction somehow prevents anyone getting pranged by bow, drumstick or the quick-change bits of Kat Heath’s ingenious set

(* Actually, we don’t really know who he’s working for).

Clive Davis, The Times ***

Nick Wayne, Pocket-sized Thetre ***

Musical Theatre Review ***

Paul Vale, The Stage **