Marshgull

[snapped from Guardian website where it has the title 'Emilia Clarke and Indira Varma star in Jamie Lloyd’s stripped-back West End production which asks probing questions about performance' and attracts four stars out of five]

As advertised at reference 1, a fortnight ago now to what is now called the Harold Pinter Theatre to see the 'Seagull'. A theatre last visited four years ago and noticed at reference 3, a play last visited six years ago and noticed at reference 2.

Turned out our copy of the play for a spot of revision beforehand. Translated by Constance Garnett, published by Chatto & Windus and sold in 1928. At some point, something got poured on the front cover, so now a little the worse for wear, but still in one piece. No paternal signature - it was his custom at that time to put his name in his books - so I have no idea where this copy came from. Chekov's first big play and all very autobiographical, being very much a play about playwrights, luvvies and plays. A play which is also mixed up with the famous Stanislavsky, so I got him out too, but did not get much further than opening him. That was, however, enough to find that he used the same snap (above) as Wikipedia. Identifying all the important people in it is left as an exercise for the reader.

On the day, a light lunch at Epsom followed by a crowded train to Waterloo, made even more crowded by a bicycle blocking up the doors through which he had entered, possibly owned by a Frenchman. Perhaps he had got on it, after a spin up Box Hill, when it was more or less empty.

Out at Waterloo to find lots of young women in rather sketchy clothes, some very flashy. What BH calls 'look at me' clothes.

Strolled up to the theatre to take a break in the 'Tom Cribb' adjacent, now a real public house again, not having served any food at all since the plaque. Met an Irish couple from Limerick, about our age, over for a few days. Fresh off the aeroplane.

Into the theatre to find a set which consisted of an open chipboard box, about the size of a small house and containing a dozen or so chairs. And that was it. We were clearly not going to get a costume drama. Someone wanted to take the play back to its essentials, ripping it out of its period place, out of its context - which sounds like nonsense, put like that. I think the idea was that the box symbolised the temporary theatre at the edge of the lake which features at the beginning of the play. It was partially dismantled for the second half, reflecting its decay over the intervening years.

Doubts about the set notwithstanding, the play worked fairly well, despite the irritating music used to top and tail the two halves. Casting generally good. But that said: Sorin good. Dorn adequate. Steward a bit overcooked, as was the teacher. Steward's wife failed to convince as Dorn's ex-mistress. The son had a damaged leg and was also a bit overcooked. More important, Trigorin was all wrong, quite the wrong age and type. And the leading lady not quite right: blue stocking yes, actress past her prime no.

Perhaps all the overcooking was intended to make the play intelligible to young people who would not know the play and who otherwise might not have much of a clue about what was going on.

Pretty full in the stalls; younger than was the matinée form before the plague. A few children. A health warning about difficult content. Stand-up clapping at the end. All in all, pretty good, but not so good that I did not find it a long time to be sitting.

A heritage fixture, snapped on the way out. The general idea was to stroll across the river to the Archduke, but stopping to eat elsewhere should anywhere catch our eye. Which in the event, it didn't, and the near empty Archduke told us that they could fit us in provided we were out by 19:30 or so, giving us a couple of hours or so, which was fine.

Rather shocked on the way by the amount of empty retail and hospitality space, in what should have been a very busy area.

Wine satisfactory, from the people at reference 4. 'Les Longues Fins' from Neveu of Sancerre. Seemingly a new-to-us wine, there being no trace it in the archive.

Half chicken and chips satisfactory. A dish I am taking quite often when it is available. More reliable than steak, at least at prices that I can afford.

Only complaint was that I had to settle for Armagnac rather than Calvados to finish up with. I felt sure that I have taken Calvados there in the past. A feeling confirmed this morning at reference 6.

The chanteuse and her pianist were gearing themselves up for the evening's entertainment and they were quite happy for me to snap their piano. Not scored as it had already been scored, three years previously, at reference 5.

The accents of our pleasant & efficient waitress very much reminded me of those of BH's friend from Finland, so it was entirely proper that she turned out to be a Hungarian, the two languages being relatives from the Uralic-Yukaghir family, otherwise lost in the sea of Indo-Hittites. This last being our own family, along with French, Romany and Irish. This according to Ruhlen at reference 7. This providing an entrée for chatter about a Hungarian in our own family.

I continue to be annoyed by all the private sector pay-as-you-go bicycles that are being allowed to litter the streets of London. So the Tories are happy to put good public money into a good quality public service scheme (known as Bullingdons in these pages), but are also happy to allow a flock of private operators to suck money out of the public service, which must suffer in the longer run, in consequence. Sounds a bit like what is happening to the NHS and no doubt if the truss survives, we will end up with another mess.

On to find some armed police on duty at Waterloo. At least it was only discrete, holstered side arms, rather than machine guns at port.

Paused at Earlsfield to catch our first moon for a while. Visible, if scarcely impressive, in the snap above. I can't get my telephone to perform very well at this sort of thing.

But it did rather better with this advertising hoarding.

Giving some clues as to the method of printing and the nature of the substrate. Clearly not a mixture of coloured dots, something much closer to painting on canvas.

The proceedings closed with a small boy on the train chiding his mother for giving him a sugar rush. The things that young people talk about these days.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/08/not-seagull.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2016/08/seagull.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-birthday-party.html.

Reference 4: https://www.andre-neveu.fr/en/vins.html.

Reference 5: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/05/piano-10.html.

Reference 6: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2017/11/cheese-home-overseas.html.

Reference 7: A guide to the world's languages: Volume 1: Classification - Merritt Ruhlen - 1987. Hopefully not too out of date. My copy having been withdrawn from the library of the Royal Holloway and Bedford New College of Egham. A correct if rather clumsy title.