Georgiana's Journal, 2002

January, 2002

January 26: FROM SEAT AA19 AT THE ALBERY (SPOILERS FOLLOW)

It was lovely to be back in the front row of the Albery again last night, and I walked in behind a woman who told the usher she was there for 'standing room,' so obviously the play continues to do well. The audience appeared to have many persons naive to Coward, laughing heartily at all the famous lines.

I was amazed by how many changes have been enacted and how so many little things in the play have been 'tweaked,' mostly for the better. This was obvious from the first, where Emma Fielding (Sibyl) now pauses on that balcony and waits for the audience to quiet down (again had a woman behind me who appeared to think opening music--like at the movies--was to be talked over) before starting her lines. And, as Claire has mentioned, that first scene with Elyot and Sibyl now 'flows.' I had the definite sense that Rickman was finally really 'listening' to Emma in the fashion he has discussed when talking about good acting. So all the little timings are now very right as they would be if Elyot were hearing and responding to Sibyl. It was quite lovely. Even the kisses ("Three, please, I'm superstitious") had character and warmth, although still that rather wide-mouthed quality that seems to differentiate them from the ones he gives to Amanda. There was an awkward 1-2 second pause in the first act, making you wonder if someone forgot a line (Rickman then spoke one of his), but all in all it was a delight. All those luscious moves around the Taj Mahal seemed even more accentuated, and they have changed the movements at the end of that embrace so that they remain facing one another until he finally breaks away during her "Oh, quickly" speech.

In the second act, Amanda now draws out the "I don't care if they bark; they can roll about like hoops" speech so that the audience hears each line. As to bigger matters, the Chekovian sequence was heart-stopping. It is better set by Rickman having further exaggerated the entrance sequence ("What's it all mean?") by even more extreme gyrations ending on his face on the arm of the gold divan. Talk about chewing the scenery! So the lovely serious philosophical ethereal speculations on humor, death and the universe that follow were like jewels dropped lovingly into a placid ocean. Magnificent!

Not all the changes were to the good. Don't know if there has been a problem with them trailing, but last night the ties on Elyot's robe were knotted in back into a rather perfect Windsor knot. It brought to mind childhood games pinning the 'tail' on the donkey. It was a very formal touch to his lounging wear and for me very distracting. Oh, let them wave! And, talking of tails, the suit jacket in Act Three was dragging hanks of threads peaking out from the back edge in three or four places. Perhaps the fact that this material is unravelling is why we have the incongruous topcoat in Act III (in Act One, Victor: White suit? Amanda: Why not? It's summer). It was again distracting watching Elyot with beads of sweat formed on his forehead and dripping off his right sideburn asking, "Is this a discussion or a fight? If it's the latter, I'll put my coat back on" lest he "catch a chill." Not bloody likely! I realized there are at least three 'animal' references I left out of my quiz question--one of which would be in contention for top choice. The image of Elyot, red-faced, rising to a half sit in a very beta-male position at Victor's feet, is one of the best in the play. Near the end, he now leans further and further in Victor's direction as Victor drones out about his friend with a place on the water--very funny.

It does make you wish there was an 'exit' press night, where all the critics came again and reviewed a play upon closing. This was wonderful to start; it is aging like fine red wine, the depths deeper, the fruity over-taste more perfumed. It would soften the heart of even a nightingale.

Georgiana (forgive typos--don't know why the Brits moved the keys around!) Whiteley's London - Saturday, January 26, 2002 at 03:12:11 (PST)

January 27, FROM SEAT AA19 AT THE ALBERY (SPOILERS AHEAD):

Most of the cast appears to have a cold, what with occasional scratchy throats, red nostrils, and dripping noses. Amazingly little evidence and hardly a whit of impact on the performance overall. I have no idea how they so well manage the symptoms. At the Saturday matinee, Elyot seemed to have trouble keeping his had on the balcony railing for that now-famous stance whilst they discuss white elephants, etc. Was beginning to look like the surface was hot. Or he stood too far away. Or he really just wanted to move but the director told him he couldn't. But it afforded a wonderful focus on the "h*nd" (sorry, Renie!) from the front row. He has added a full-out laugh with Amanda over the concept of them all trotting out for an early start somewhere down the road. There are actually quite a number of chuckles not previously apparent. The first of the "Sollock" pauses in the second act has been shortened--no pillow fluffing, moving at the window immediately to the knock and wave--and now runs about a minute 20 by my count--still getting a laugh at the gong. I am pleased to report absence of Windsor knot (although the creases remained; robe sash now tied at the loops--don't these folk know about basting stitches?--I doubt it would damage the thing even if it were silk) and hanging threads. I had no recollection of such an emphasis on "Hush, hush" from Victor to Sibyl in Act Three--which now forms a nice bookend to Elyot's "Stop crying!" (poor Sibyl!) in Act One. And the matinee saw a shade knocked off the wall sconce, and the last pillow in Act II nearly take down the floor lamp at the footlights.

As interesting as was that caramel color (you know it from the Conan interview, the Galaxy Quest premiere [same time] and the Willis benefit), Mr. Rickman's hair has now metamorphosed into a color actually seen in nature, quite a bit more like shades of old gold and I quite like it. When he rests his head on Amanda's abdomen in Act II ("Not in the eyes of the Catholics..."), one sees that his head is virtually the size of Ms. Duncan's torso--an amazing image, now on permanent file in my mind along with the beta male posturing. And I would add a classic pumpkin-eaters grin in Act III that I don't recall being there before, with Elyot now clearly flushed, delighted and chagrined with the reaction he'd gotten from Amanda on his "strange noises" remark.

As you can see, the play is a gold mine!

FROM THE STAGE DOOR:

I commented on how different the play seemed. Mr. Rickman indicated it was not intentional, but rather evolutionary. I asked about New York, and he indicated it appears to be 'on,' for April, with a run of "one day" to not more than 20 weeks, depending upon the critics! I asked him to sign a Snape photo for Zelda, "who at five has no difficulty distinguishing an actor from his role." He replied, "Good for her." The inscription reads, "To Zelda, love, Alan Rickman."
Georgiana (Yes, I shall give it to her anyway!) London - Sunday, January 27, 2002 at 05:42:36 (PST)

January 28, SEAT AA19:

The languid stance, Act I: Elyot, hand on the balcony whilst Amanda speaks of white elephants. The one where the hand had trouble staying stationary the other day. It is classic Rickman, bringing to mind Jaques lounging against all that white fabric in "As You Like It." (Claire!)

The hand slide, Act I: A heartbeat later, (Renie, you would have died to have seen it!) as Elyot pulls Amanda toward his embrace, by the hip.

The magnificent lionine visage resting on that tiny torso, Act II: mentioned yesterday, this actually did recently appear in one of the London papers.

The run to the grammaphone, Act II: With flashing soles, this is the reverse of the "Harry Potter" entrance. He does such a lovely job covering ground.

The lounge, Act II: Elyot sits on the red sofa, left elbow on one overstuffed arm, arched right foot up against the other, fingering his nails ("you yap, yap, yap, yap, yapping about Victor...") It is a perfect study in casual irritation and how those nails are tended night after night!

Innocent tom-foolery, Act IIThe "What's it all mean" speech is now so overdrawn as to have become, not adult mockery, but innocence revisited and he ends it with the sort of self-satisfied closed-mouthed innocent grin that Huck Finn would have shown to Tom Sawyer, having pulled one off on the Widow Douglas (it is exactly the look grandson Mac Henry gave me, at 2 and a half, when he knew he has mastered enough language to tell me the story of his afternoon's adventure). It is the broad farce and this innocent mischief that so lovingly sets up the very serious scene that follows. The jewels are now aptly set.

The beta male, Act III: Elyot on the floor, face suffused, looking up, knee crooked, at the looming "Victor" (!), then head bowed in submission. A perfect image.

The mocking assistant, Act III: On one bended knee, hands forward, Elyot glides to assist Victor in picking up the items the maid has brushed to the floor with the breakfast tray. And what a "So there!" look it is.

The pumpkin grin, Act III: Mouth stuffed with brioche "with butter... and jam..." Eyes twinkling before the next strike.

This is brilliant Rickman, that plastic Bassett-y face unafraid to be less than totally attractive, often ludicrously funny, always completely engaging. I hope those of you unable to make it to London will find New York a venue you can manage.

March

But as to our principals? I fear the wind had gone out of their sails.

It was a tired-appearing lot that tread the boards for the last performance, lacking the wherewithal to even quite get the dance steps right. What crackled as the pent up juices of actors at the peak of their powers in January now seemed strangely subdued, no longer glittering in their sophistication, but now mired in the cement of the world-weary. Lindsay Duncan, so warm and gracious always at the stage door that you fully believe her Amanda's kindness to old beggar women, seemed somehow brittle under the weight of a lugubrious Rickman playing Elyot like the lumbering Panda he was said to have brought to Anthony. Rickman gave one the distinct impression that he had begun the end-of-run libations far in advance of this last matinee, and was now too langorous to lift "the voice" past the footlights. 'Oil dripping on velvet' was transfigured to 'lint sticking on flannel.'

All in all, though, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Let's hope a fresh wind blows them to New York.
March 4, 2002

After two movies and finishing the paperback novel I'd brought for the plane, I had a lot of time left yet to ponder the last Albery performance of "Private Lives."

I've been thinking it was actually quite interesting to see a bad performance, such as Sunday's was. It is fascinating to see how all the elements can be in place, yet the thing just did not work. Not that there weren't moments. The balcony scene was really one of the best, if not the best, that I had seen. You had a sense in that scene that Rickman was playing for the ages, willing it to be the best ever. There was a hesitation in the hand moving across Amanda's stomach. He seemed to tremble.

There were few flubs. Rickman had one word missaid, and rapidly corrected it. When they got the dance footing wrong, they paused the briefest of milliseconds and started out again on the proper footing--no hopping about like I saw in November. There were no major mis-timings. No one talked over another's lines. The pauses they had patiently learned to allow for audience response were all there. The "What's it all about" speech was as over-acted as it has become--very funny. And the ridiculous smirk, eyebrow arched, he has learned to punctuate it with at the end--still there, although he was a bit slow moving into his next line. The audience mostly reacted appropriately and there were clearly a number present who had never seen it before (you can tell--the most Coward-ly of lines get a big laugh). Emma's and Adam's performances were nearly identical to what they have always been. Lindsay seemed to be acting her heart out and, in the balcony scene, her face was drenched with tears.

So what was wrong? Rickman simply did not appear to have his heart in it. Or it was so in it that it was full to overflowing, and breaking in the process. It was a cast saying farewell to an experience with a great deal of sadness. A comedy 'with a dark side' had become a tragedy--with a few light moments. Disappointing? Perhaps had it been the only performance I'd seen. But as one of many, I find I am coccooning it in a special place in my heart. And this actor has risen another notch in my estimation.

New York, April 21, 2002

FROM THE RICHARD RODGERS, ROW O Spoilers abound:

The stage is wider and less deep. This means a few changes in the 'staging,' all of which appear to represent compromise. The only noticeable difference I saw in Act I was that you can see a sort of 'flange' on each side of that wonderful balcony set. They are just sort of decorative edges to the facade. A lovely change is that Sibyl is out of her pink 'frock' in Act I and into a peach-colored exquisitely slinky lanky creation that does justice to Emma's athleticism. One is no longer tempted to wonder what Elyot saw in her!

But Acts II and III are slightly more problematic. Same sets, same props--with a few exceptions I shall mention. They seemed to have left the sofa throws in London and have new ones; the pillows, rugs, and even couches appear identical. They have added the Eiffel Tower to the view from the window in Act I--framed perfectly, lit at night, decorative ironwork in the daytime. I have not had a chance to pull the play to see whether this violates the Paris geography. Now where is the Hotel Atterly?... But the stage is not deep enough to retain the piano bench. Rickman, when he 'plays,' therefore, sits on the edge of the raised flooring in back. This means that when Amanda, singing, crosses over to sit next to him, she climbs up the stairs, stage right, and down stage left. This is slightly distracting. She then sits on a 'stack' of books, which term I use loosely, since it is clearly a set of 'stage' books meant to be upright on a bookshelf--the 'bottom' edges are all aligned. There is one other time where she crosses via the 'up and down' route. I doubt this would matter on a one-time viewing. The trade-off is that there is no overhang above the piano to capture the sound. Both performers sit a bit higher, and Mr. Rickman's singing voice positively soared in song out over the audience.

The other change, in the third act, is the 'tennis match' scene, which is less funny with more distance between Amanda and Elyot. The 'graphic' up on Fausta's page IS the graphic for this performance, accompanied by that lovely shot of the two of them from the London previews, looking away from each other, Amanda in the red suit. Because of the change in stage configuration, that particular posture does not occur in this play--with the added width to the stage, Elyot perched atop his suitcase is several feet away from Amanda on the end of the sofa. He has to reach to catch her hand upflung in protest over the escalating argument between the younger pair. And some of the coffee passing (if the cup weren't so underfilled) looked nearly hazardous.

I was pleased to be recognized by both Ms. Duncan and Mr. Rickman at the stage door. It is just to the right of the main entrance to the theater and an entirely unceremonious setting where they set up steel baricades to keep the fans away from the path to the waiting limo. I said to Mr. Rickman that the stage seemed quite different and he replied that it was, "Very different." But all these are rather minor points. The play is as crisp and polished as it was in London. The audience was incredibly warm. Both main actors were applauded at entry (we are so pleased for talent!); as was the conclusion of their fine balcony scene, and a standing ovation ended the afternoon--and I suspect will end virtually every performance.

I did mind the microphones on the actors--not because of the fact that they were wearing them, but because they cracked and popped in annoying fashion. There was some interaction between the mikes and the actors' touching the handrailings on the balcony, and there were times where clearly both actors' microphones were picking up one actor's voice, which became distractingly loud. I trust these are all 'technical'--and therefore solvable--issues, to be remedied (along with the upright books!) before the official opening.

There was A/V equipment spread over four rows, about six seats wide, mid-orchestra starting at row M. Or right beside us. We asked the technical folk--hopefully--whether this was for Broadway Archive. Alas, no. But they were recording for the equivalent of the A/V 'pressbook'--for snippets to accompany interviews and TV press items. So keep those VCRs at the ready. A word about the theater. In the orchestra, rows L through P are delightful. The rake is steep and they climb over the more gently sloped rows before. This fully frames the stage from those seats and it feels both intimate and expansive. I had never before (from rows 1-5 at the Albery) appreciated how much Mr. Rickman acts with his feet! They pose, posture and propel him through the action; convey attitude; anchor and power the fall. That they are as generously sized as are hands and head gives them an animus of their own--this must be one of the world's most 'physical' actors. So please do not lament the fact that your seats may be toward the back. (It did, however, look to me that, behind row P, you are getting caught beneath the balcony overhang.)

Happy theater!
Read all of Georgiana's Journal,
October and November