The Habit of Art

Sitting on my own in the second row in a packed theatre earlier this week I was quietly optimistic about the performance I was about to see. I couldn't help but feel pleased I had paid a mere £5 for the seat unlike my fellow theatregoers who were discussing using the National Theatre Entrypass scheme before the play. This is the third play I have seen this year for £5 at the National, and it was most definitely worth it. Forget Oxford student plays in the dark cramped Burton Taylor Studio for £4, the calibre of the acting on stage at the National was phenomenal. It certainly helped that two of my favourite actors from the film of The History Boys were playing lead roles in Alan Bennett's newest play.

Richard Griffyths, who plays the unorthodox teacher of 'life' in The History Boys, was called upon to portray another morally ambiguous character in the play within a play about WH Auden and Benjamin Brittain. Bennett decided not to write a straight play, and given his track record of fantastic plays, this is easily forgiven. Moreover, it works. Bennett has his actors, director and writer argue on stage whilst rehearsing a play. Griffiths forgets his lines and takes issue with the writer on the way he has to portray WH Auden: he feels that Auden's sexual and toiletry habits should not be his most emphasised features in the play.

Certainly there are some very silly moments in the play, where it seems Bennett is taking liberties with his audience, such as when Griffiths comes on wearing an Auden mask, and the narrator appears dressed in drag and a ruffle, apparently to increase the authenticity of the production. However, Bennett is poking fun at experimental writers when he introduces talking furniture who discuss Auden's inner turmoil and comically, the play within a play, which is the point of the production, and as such, is meant to taken seriously, is often undermined by the actors' reluctance to perform such outlandish scenes.

Having said this, the conversation had between WH Auden and Benjamin Britten is very poignantly performed, and raises questions about what causes people to produce works of art, whether poetry like Auden, music like Britten or anything else. The disparity between the two men and Britten's obvious awkwardness in his formality suddenly disappear in this discussion, although at times Britten breaks off, puts on his formal front and attempts to leave. It is the awkwardness that makes the moments of coming together so special, as two lost souls find agreement briefly, despite being dissatisfied with their lives, something which seems to be a prerequisite to being a success in the field.

Bennett is obviously questioning not only the two protagonist's need to create art, but his own, and the audience feels privileged to be privy to his reconstruction of his thoughts on stage, with his consideration for the voice of every stage member, from actor to stage manager. We truly feel we are present at a rehearsal of the play, and seeing actors both in the play and behind the scenes, we can empathise more fully with the fate of those condemned to work for the theatre.

Waching this play on my own reminded me of Germany, where I often watched plays on my own because I hadn't found any hardcore theatre fans, and I thought it would do wonders for my German degree to watch authentic German theatre. It was definitely an experience: I was surprised, bored, and amazed by what I saw. Sex, campness and interesting use of staging seemed to be the done thing. In Chemnitz, formerly known as Karl-Marx-Stadt, I sat through the ballet "Romeo und Julia", set in Communist Russia with only massive concrete walls for scenery. I was bewildered by a version of "Kabale und Liebe" by Schiller with practically no scenery, so that we could see the actors dressing and drinking cups of tea in the darkness of back stage. I very much enjoyed a performance of Shakespeare's "Othello" set on a beach with the characters appearing on stage in bikinis and scuba masks delivering lines whilst running in and out of the water; Iago dancing crazingly in purple disco light whenever his scheming seems to have succeeded.

The actor who played Iago was my favourite in Chemnitz and I was delighted when he appeared in the German musical version of Charley’s Aunt (Charleys Tante) as the pole dancing, depressed butler. I played the character of Charley's aunt in an OULES production three years ago and we went to see the play done professionally in Richmond beforehand, so I was curious to see the German interpretation. Despite the main focus being a man dressed in women’s clothes, Chemnitz managed to camp up the play up even more by turning Charley, originally young and straight, into a bald homosexual with a wig in love with his best friend, who is completely oblivious, and by using any excuse to simulate bumming.

Indeed it seems that the German (or a least East German) way is to add sex to everything: in Chemnitz's performance of "Nathan the Wise", an eighteenth century German play by G E Lessing, with an enlightenment message of religious tolerance, a young woman and her older female servant embraced in a very erotic way on top of a washing machine in the middle of the stage, a washing machine which seemed to serve no purpose other than to facilitate this affection. And in Midsummer Night’s Dream (Sommernachtstraum) Theseus spent most of the time lying on the floor, his head engaged in activity under Hippolyta‘s skirt, coming up for air only to speak. Moreover, Puck and Oberon seemed unable to hold a conversation unless one was astride the other. And in case anyone was offended, at the end of the Shakespeare's comedy we were thrown toffees wrapped in quotes from the play: a nice touch I thought.