A JUBILEE by Anton Chekhov; produced by F. J. Pugh
EVERYMAN, a morality play; produced by M. J. Armstrong
HISS THE VILLAIN by A. R. Taylor and W. Ernest Cossens; produced by M. J.
Armstrong
(Harrow County School March 1963)
For the first time for some years the boys of the Dramatic Society put on a major show unaided by the staff. A flood of creative and imaginative activity was released and three contrasting plays were produced with originality and enthusiasm. Undoubtedly the responsibility of getting the plays on the stage to schedule added an extra dimension of experience for those who previously had contented themselves with acting.
The major part of the credit must of course go to Michael Armstrong an Francis Pugh. All the back-stage departments, too, deserve a lot of praise; it is very easy to accept the mechanics of a production without realising that they must be worked-out and controlled by someone: on this occasion it was Ian Gosling.
For the first play, Francis Pugh presented Chekhov's A Jubilee, set in the offices of the Mutual Credit Society.
A spiralling series of emotional interruptions causes the Chairman, Derek Morris, to be robbed of his pompous self-satisfaction at receiving the congratulations of the shareholders on the occasion of the Society's jubilee. Michael Fulton, as the Chairman's fever-ridden book-keeper and speech-writer, wearing felt boots (lower than which it is apparently impossible to sink), behaved with petulant, irascible Misogyny towards the interruptors - the Chairman's attractive but voluble wife and the improbable but insistent peasant woman - finally attacking them with a knife. The situation was further confused by Thomas Lake and Andrew Kasriel bowing and bobbing in and out as a frenetic pair of puppet-like messengers.
Finally, the appearance of Benjamin Lenthall at the head of the shareholders and his attempt to read a dignified, loyal address above a mêlée of scared and fainting women, berserk book-keeper and despairing Chairman brought the play to its shambling anti-climax.
Partly an expression of Catholic philosophy, partly a cautionary tale, Everyman, produced as excitingly as this by Michael Armstrong, remains a powerful play, portraying the final, inescapable human fate - death.
The strength of the production was established immediately by Alan Cooper, whose commanding presence and voice as the Messenger demanded the audience's attention. Then, having had a general post-prandial grouse about the state of the world, a disgruntled, tape-recorded God instructed Death to summon Everyman to a reckoning.
Throughout the play it was seen how ingeniously contrived scenery and well co-ordinated lighting effects could complement good acting and heighten already tense actions - the single spotlight sharply focused on Death's skeletal hands as he advanced into the audience along the raised gangway to find Everyman, the sudden change to the brightly-lit dance in which Fellowship appears,the menacing shadows on the rear wall cast by the black frameworks -- evoking possibly the Christian images of the Cross and the Crown of Thorns.
John Luetchford made a remarkable stage debut as Everyman, proud, confidant man at first, then dismayed when deserted by his worldly goods and rising to a high degree of pathos in his attempt to prevent the departure of his Strength and Wits. This latter scene with his five Wits running furiously down the length of the hall and Everyman grappling with Strength on the raised central gangway was surely one of the most exciting events ever in a school play.
The personifications variously, though necessarily rather arbitrarily, portrayed made their points well about the temporary nature of material wealth and selfishness in human relationships. In particular the poise of Derek Morris as Death and later Confession added stability and authority to the production.
The third play was the pseudo-Victorian melodrama 'Hiss the Villain' or 'Foiled and Counterfoiled.' This gave actor-manager Michael Armstrong practically unlimited scope for the zany exploitation of farcical situations - much to the satisfaction of the audience who joined enthusiastically in hissing, booing, cheering and cutting in on the villain's refrain - 'Foiled again!'
Derek Morris, as an unctuous and adjectival Master of Ceremonies, introduced the scenes and unfolded the plot of the sad but uplifting tale of the treacherous Silas Snaker and his redemption by the innocent family of the late Captain Noble and Harold their friend. John Orchard as the once young lady pianist played appropriately extravagant romantic or sinister background music to set the mood of the scene.
The simplicity of the design of the set for the attics in Cross Keys Street contrasted with the obvious weight of the real park benches that were used in the Embankment scene. Everyone enjoyed the snow and the mobile moon and the wall full of cracks and the paper-maché ham cooked over a candle.
It will be a long time before one can forget Silas Snaker, played by Michael Armstrong, long and villainous in black coat and top hat, with sequined eyes flashing devilishly in the green spotlight, being utterly foiled: Lucy (she's so innocent), played by Anthony Mansell, offering an unending supply of Kleenex from his/her bosom to Mrs. Noble (please don't cry dear mother), played by Michael Fulton; Percy, that ingenious Victorian youth played by Francis Pugh, giving half of his half of a cold roast chestnut to Bowler,Snaker's clerk, played dead-pan by Peter Davies; and of course Harold the friend, played by Steven Rose, indulging in an improbable series of late-Victorian postures.
B. E. Williams
(Gaytonian 1963)