“perseverance rewards with a wistful poignancy that lingers long after the curtain call”
“84 Charing Cross Road” is a most unlikely success story. It started in the early seventies as a slim volume by a little-known, middle-aged American writer, Helene Hanff. Simply a collection of letters between the impecunious book-lover Hanff, in New York, and the staff of an antiquarian bookshop in London, it became a bestseller. As well as a BBC television series, and the Mel Brooks film starring Anthony Hopkins and Anne Bancroft, it also enjoyed a long run in the West End with James Roose-Evans’s award-winning stage version.
This revival, quite rightly, makes no attempt to dust off the sense of the period and remains faithful to the sensibilities of Roose-Evans’s adaptation of the original material. For some, this might make for rather gentle viewing, but perseverance rewards with a wistful poignancy that lingers long after the curtain call.
The correspondence spans two decades – from Britain’s post-war austerity to the height of the Swinging Sixties – and is full of affection, humour and humanity. It starts in 1949 as a straightforward business correspondence with Frank Doel when Helene Hanff sends a wish list of rare books she’d been unable to acquire in New York. Disarmed by the quirky, outspoken Hanff, the letters from the business-like Doel grow less formal, until he finally addresses her as “Dear Helene”. And for her, he becomes “Frankie”.
Clive Francis, as Frank Doel, captures this quintessential Englishness – and it is a joy to watch the gradual transformation as he sheds his inhibitions and relaxes. His self-conscious and sometimes clumsy attempts at familiarity contrast with Helen’s relaxed candour. The teasing tenderness between the two defines Britain and America’s ‘special relationship’. Designer Norman Coates strengthens this unity with an ingenious set that splits the stage in two, highlighting the contrast between the two worlds.
Stefanie Powers, as the chain smoking, unsuppressed Hanff, has a naturalness and comfort that rules the stage. For various reasons, mainly financial, her attempts to fly over to London are repeatedly thwarted. Powers never quite evokes the genuine frustration at this, whereas Francis wonderfully expresses Doel’s wordless disappointment in a perfectly observed and understated performance. And when we know it’s too late, we suddenly perceive how he has visibly aged and is silently resigned to the moving epilogue that is to follow.
Fine support comes too from an ensemble who join in the correspondence, adding splashes of colour with snippets of their own affairs. That they all sing and play instruments is a device that heightens the emotional punch, especially when they come together for a chorus of ‘Abide With me’. It is a kind of eulogy not just to the friendship, but to an era and a way of life that has passed away.
One can’t help wondering how the relationship would have progressed in today’s age of social media. Helene observes that she “made friends I never met”, an anachronism which takes on a whole new meaning in today’s ‘Facebook’ climate. But we get the impression that these characters would have eschewed the internet, at the risk of being labelled old fashioned. This show runs that risk too, but that is its charm. Rich in fine observation; its soft cadences and its realism are the perfect antidote to the harsh, staccato rhythms of the digital world.
“There is an assured originality to Regan’s take on the proceedings”
Following on from ‘HMS Pinafore’, ‘The Pirates of Penzance’ and ‘The Mikado’ Sasha Regan continues with the winning formula of an all-male cast with her revival of “Iolanthe”. The triumph of this concept is that it transcends the ‘gimmick factor’ of men trying to be girls. Instead, each member of the fine cast fully inhabits their character, irrespective of gender. While remaining faithful to the spirit of Gilbert and Sullivan, there is an assured originality to Regan’s take on the proceedings.
Torches flash in the darkness of the auditorium as a motley crew make their way to the stage as though breaking into an old schoolhouse. They discover an old copy of Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Iolanthe”, from where the journey through the absurd and gloriously silly story begins. Twenty-five years previous to the action of the opera, Iolanthe, a fairy, had committed the capital crime of marrying a mortal. The Queen of the Fairies, however, commuted her sentence to banishment, on condition that Iolanthe leave her husband and never see him again. Her son, Strephon, now twenty-five has grown up in the mortal world despite being half fairy and is engaged to marry Phyllis – the ward of the Lord Chancellor. But being a mere shepherd, he is not thought worthy by Phyllis’ guardian. Further mayhem ensues when Iolanthe, who has not aged in the quarter of a century, has her exile revoked and is reunited with her son.
As haywire as Gilbert’s libretto is, it is juxtaposed with perhaps the most beautiful of Arthur Sullivan’s scores. This combination makes for a compelling evening. Musical Director, Richard Baker provides the sole accompaniment at the piano, a device that highlights the melodies and allows the voices to take centre stage. That said, though, there were moments that begged for a more varied sound track to stir up the dynamics. But what it lacked in light and shade was compensated for by the quality of the singers. Close your eyes for a moment and it is easy to forget that this is an all-male cast. There is a purity to the finely tuned falsetto that is genuinely moving.
Christopher Finn’s ‘Iolanthe’ has an extraordinary quality to his voice that stands him out, despite having a lesser share of the spotlight than the title character merits. But it is very much an ensemble piece; and each actor, whether in the male or female registers handle the harmonies and the quick-fire patter of the lyrics with ease. And all this marvellous singing is done with their tongues firmly in their cheeks. Only a top notch team can afford not to take itself too seriously in such a relaxed manner. Mixing a fairy story with political satire is always going to be a tall order but this show wins us over with its own eccentric mix of magic and mastery.
