Theatre
Michael Portillo - In a tight spot
Published 16 May 2005
Theatre - A bubbly production squeezes every drop from a period piece, writes Michael Portillo
Trelawny of the "Wells"
Finborough Theatre, London SW10
I have never before been assaulted by a widow - though, more accurately, the attack on this occasion was "with" rather than "by" a widow. Each night before the Finborough Theatre opens its doors, patrons are encouraged to wait in the pub downstairs. Unluckily, a big screen there was showing Chelsea's decisive Premiership match against Bolton. When the Blues scored, an excitable supporter shook up a magnum of Veuve Clicquot, Grand Prix-style, and drenched the fans and theatregoers alike.
Fortunately, temperatures soar in the windowless auditorium, so in a moment we were dry - though a moment after that we were soaked with sweat. By the last act of the play, Roman Abramovich's men were home and dry, so to speak, and raucous singing, catcalls and horn-blowing emanating from the bar be-low provided an incongruous background acoustic for a late 19th-century comedy-drama. The players (on stage, I mean) showed exemplary powers of concentration, and even managed not to melt in their waistcoats and top hats.
It is not easy to do theatre in such conditions, and the stage area at the Finborough is tiny. What the theatre delivers is of a higher standard by far than we have any right to expect. Its silver jubilee production of Trelawny of the "Wells" is vigorous and sparky, and it squeezes from Arthur Wing Pinero's 1898 period piece every drop that it has to offer.
Stage sets at the Finborough are a minor miracle, and the designer, Alex Marker, has shown great ingenuity. The action opens behind the curtains at Sadler's Wells, where the company is holding a farewell party for its starlet Rose Trelawny. The whole cast is swept up in a lively and fast-moving celebration that is somehow fitted on to a very narrow strip between the curtains and the front row. When the drapes are pulled back for Act II, we are in the well-appointed drawing room of the Gower family, into which Rose is to marry. But the set consists entirely of hinged panels, and with a couple of tugs the miniature stage has been transformed again, now into a backstage area at the Wells.
The play's plot is simple enough. Rose has won the heart of a gentleman admirer, Arthur, and has decided to give up the gypsy life for respectability. But Arthur's elderly relatives are stern killjoys who see the engagement as a serious threat to the family's good name. Before long, the girl starts to believe that she has made a hideous error and bolts. But there is a bit more to it than that. Rose finds that her experiences outside the Wells have changed her, and begins to repent of her impatience with the Gowers and her disloyalty to Arthur. He proves to have a truer heart than hers.
Lara Agar-Stoby is excellent in the title role. It is easy to see why she has captivated Arthur. Her refinement sets her apart from the other players. She has a vibrant sense of fun that never becomes coarse. Her deportment and personal standards of conduct are the model for the more discerning of her fellow actors. Assailed with such charm, the audience is naturally appalled by the po-faced Gowers. Yet Rose passes through a painful acquisition of self-knowledge, in the manner of a Jane Austen heroine. Agar-Stoby holds our attention and sympathy through every stage of her journey of self-discovery.
Alexandra Aitken plays Imogen Parrot, the girl who has got the big professional break and become a celebrity. Aitken has thought her way into the role and gives a strong performance in a pivotal part, and does so without upstaging Agar-Stoby. James Horne gives a suitably blustering interpretation of Arthur's grandfather, Sir William Gower. But Gower, like Scrooge, must undergo his moment of conversion into a warm human being - a scene that provides some of the best comedy in the play. The old codger recalls how, as a young man, he had visited theatres to see the greatest thespian of the time; with Rose's catalytic charm, he achieves his metamorphosis.
The other comic highlight is a cameo role by Timothy Dodd as Ferdinand Gadd, a bitchy old actor who has delusions of distinction, and who must decide whether it is below his dignity to take the villain's part in the panto-mime. That he badly needs the money resolves the issue, but not before a long moment of hammy indecision.
Pinero used this play to pay tribute to Tom Robertson, the pioneering author of "problem plays" that dealt realistically with issues of the day, written in natural speech. Trelawny of the "Wells" is also an exuberant celebration of the irrepressible urge to make theatre. Both those aspects make it interesting, and a suitable choice for the Finborough's anniversary.
That said, this is not Oscar Wilde, though it often sounds as though it would like to be. For all this production's high spirits, it cannot quite disguise the limpness of Pinero's play. But congratulations go to the director, Phil Willmott, for making the most of it.
Booking on 0870 400 0838 until 21 May
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