Ken G. Hall’s Tall Timbers (1937) is a romantic melodrama that is highly watchable, particularly for its spectacular bushfire climax. Ken G. Hall had longed to make a film about the timber industry in contemporary 1930s Australia. The original story by Frank Hurley was adapted into a screenplay by Frank Harvey. Much of the joy of Tall Timbers, however, lies with the cinematography by George Heath who one was one of the prolific D.O.P’s of Australian cinema in the 1930s and 1940s.
The story centres on a young woman, Joan Burbridge (played by Shirley Ann Richards) whose father owns a timber company. She is saved from drowning by a young man, Jim Thorton (played by Frank Leighton) who joins her and her father in dealing with treachery within and without the timber company. There are a number of complicated romantic relationships within the plot, but it all comes together and is resolved in the awesome bushfire climax of the film.
The film was a success in Australia and in the UK and US, where it was renamed Thundering Forest and Timberland Terror. What makes the bushfire climax special is that it was mostly done with miniatures in a studio. Whilst the melodramatic aspect of the film is a little over-wrought, which Hall acknowledged, nonetheless, it is still a thrilling piece of Australian cinema.
TONY’S TOP AUSTRALIAN FILMS: #7 – THOROUGHBRED (1936)
Ken G. Hall’s Thoroughbred (1936) is a sometimes thrilling Australian film. It is very loosely based on the story of one of Australia’s greatest racehorses, Phar Lap. Unfortunately, it has suffered from comparisons with other similar films, such as Frank Capra’s Broadway Bill (1934). However, it is a delightful film and is part of a small group or genre of Australian films that is about the popular Australian sport of horse racing. Furthermore, like virtually all the Australian horse racing films the climax is the famous Melbourne Cup – the Australian horse race ‘that stops the nation’.
The story centres on a horse called Stormalong who is owned and cared for by Joan, a young Canadian horse trainer living in Australia. She is helped by Tommy Dawson and together they start winning races. Eventually, Stormalong becomes a favourite to win the Melbourne Cup. However, a group of corrupt gambling syndicates plot to destroy Stormalong. First, they arrange for his stable to be burnt down; then they kidnap Tommy; and finally, at the Melbourne Cup whilst the race is on there is a life and death race to try and stop a sniper from shooting Stormalong.
In 1935 order to help finance the film and secure a US distribution Ken G. Hall traveled to the US and signed American actress Helen Twelvetrees to play Joan. Helen Twelvetrees, as well as Frank Leighton who plays Tommy, is terrific in the film. There is also a back-stage drama here as Helen Twelvetrees. She came to Australia with her husband and child but had an affair with Frank Leighton who was playing Tommy. Her husband found out and threatened to kill Frank Leighton. Ken G. Hall had to hire detectives to help gently but firmly get the husband and child out of the country.
I thoroughly recommend this wonderful little gem in the Australian film canon.
Tony’ Top Australian Films: #6. THE SILENCE OF DEAN MAITLAND (1934)
Ken G. Hall’s The Silence of Dean Maitland (1934) is not a great film, but it has something rather intriguing about it that makes compulsive viewing. Furthermore, it throws a particular mirror up to its contemporary society with certain issues still relevant today.
The film is based on the romantic melodramatic novel of the same name by Maxwell Grey (a pseudonym for Mary Gleed Tuttiett) that was first published in 1886. It was a best-seller, adapted into a play, and later two silent films in 1914 and 1915. It involves a minister, Dean Maitland who is seduced by the local sex-pot, Alma Lee who becomes pregnant. Ben Lee, Alma’s father, when he finds out physically attacks Dean Maitland, who then accidentally kills Alma’s father. Rather than confess, Dean Maitland allows his best friend, Dr. Henery Everard to take the blame. Everard goes to jail for twenty years, whilst Dean Maitland enjoys a successful life. Eventually, however, all is revealed.
There is a story that Ken G. Hall and his friend Stuart F. Doyle went to see a production of the play by The Rockdale Amateur Society in Sydney, and ended up in fits of giggles due to its overt melodramatic sentimentality. Nonetheless, Hall sensed there was something about this story that would appeal to contemporary audiences – and he was right. Despite reserved contemporary critical assessments, the respective film versions were popular successes, particularly Ken G. Hall’s 1934 film.
Today it is very awkward at times to watch, nonetheless, there is something about this story. Furthermore, despite all the melodramatic sentimentality The Silence of Dean Maitland had, and I think still has, the power and capacity to upset numerous people in religious communities and government institutions. Raymond Longford wrote and directed the 1914 film version, and ended up in court over distribution problems. It is perhaps the issue of decadence, hypocrisy, corruption, and betrayal by a supposed respected religious leader that is why The Silence of Dean Maitland has its appeal and fascination, and would, if re-made, probably be as successful and popular with Australian audiences as it has always been. A curiosity, perhaps, but there is something there….?
TONY’S TOP AUSTRALIAN FILMS
#5. The Squatter’s Daughter (1932)
One of the most popular Australian ‘melodramas’ in the first decades of the 20th Century was The Squatter’s Daughter (1907) by Bert Baily and Edward Duggan. The story essentially involves a dramatic love-triangle between two male rivals and the feisty heroine – Violet, the ‘Squatter’s Daughter’. Partly why this film is in my ‘Top Australian films’ is because it exemplifies the creation of a particular type of Australian female persona – the Aussie ‘shelia’.
These days, to call a woman a ‘shelia’ would be taken as a relatively derogatory label. That was not it’s original intention; rather the contrary, as it was a term that was essentially affectionate and complementary. The ‘shelia’ roles, such as Violet in The Squatter’s Daughter, were primarily masculine creations, nonetheless, the character was firmly embraced – feisty, independent, smart, beautiful, sometimes rich and sometimes not – she was seen as the ideal companion to the idealized romantic persona of the contemporary Australian male. These characteristics are also found in Sybylla Mervyn in Miles Franklin’s My Brilliant Career (1901), who to a certain extent prefigures Violet in The Squatter’s Daughter (1907), and many others to follow – such as Barbara in Lawson Harris’ A Daughter of Australia (1922).
The success of the play led to Bert Bailey directing a silent-screen adaption in 1910. Unfortunately, there are no surviving copies and is now regarded as a ‘lost film’.
It is, however, Ken G. Hall’s 1932 film version that perhaps gives the best glimpse of how thrilling contemporary Australain audiences found The Squatter’s Daughter. Hall’s film, however, although based on the original play, is considerably different. The characters have been renamed – Violet is now Joan – and certain characters and situations completely removed. For example, the sub-plot in the original play involving the bushranger Ben Hall has gone; its place is a sub-plot involving racism.
Another reason why this film is in my ‘Top Australian films’ is the spectacular and frightening bush-fire that is the climax of the film. Very impressive – and dangerous – film-making.
TONY’ TOP AUSTRALIAN FILMS
#4 ON OUR SELECTION (1932)
Steele Rudd’s On Our Selection (1899) was one of the most popular works in Australian fiction for nearly fifty years. It was a series of satiric ‘sketches’ involving a rural Australian family, the Rudds, battling the elements, neighbours, politicians, and themselves. It marks the beginning of a number books by Steele Rudd about this lovable family of ‘country bumpkins’. The original group of ‘sketches’, On Our Selection, in 1912 became a highly successful play, written by Edmond Duggan and the then popular Australian actor Bert Bailey who also played the central character of Dad Rudd.
The play became the basis for the 1920 silent film version as well as Charles Chauvel’s 1932 ‘talkie’ On Our Selection. This was the film that really launched Charles Chauvel’s career. He was initially reluctant to do it, considering it as ‘old-fashioned’, however, based on the success of the play and the 1920 film he was persuaded that it would be a big hit with the Australian public – and it was.
Bert Bailey co-wrote the screenplay as well as reprise the role he created, Dad Rudd. Bailey, and Fred MacDonald as Dave Rudd, as well as the film, were such an enormous hit that it subsequently triggered off a series of films – Grandad Rudd (1935), Dad and Dave Come to Town (1938), Dad Rudd MP (1940). Whilst ‘film series’ are not unknown in the Australian film canon, nonetheless, the ‘Dad and Dave’ films are the most successful.
It is perhaps lamentable that the world and humour of On Our Selection and the ‘Dad and Dave’ films, in general, are relegated to the ‘old-fashioned’ dismissed bucket. However, Yes – they could be regarded as ‘old-fashioned’, but there is also an engaging whimsical charm, and they have moments that are genuinely funny. Furthermore, they do not shy away from social and political comment, and have more in common with the contemporary US films of Frank Capra and Preston Sturges than is generally credited – but with a uniquely ‘Australian’ voice.
This is partly exemplified in Dad and Dave Come to Town (which is my personal favourite) by the character of Mr. Ernstwhislte, played by Alec Kellaway. This character is what was called a ‘sissie’ role; in that, he is very effeminate and obviously ‘gay’. What makes this character and Alec Kellaway’s excellent performance important is that it is quite possibly the very first positive presentation of a homosexual man in ‘world cinema’, as opposed to being villainous, decadent, pathetic, psychopathic outcasts. Alec Kellaway’s Mr. Ernstwhistle is none of these, but is ‘good guy’ and helps Dad and Dave in their battle against the real villains in the film. Even more surprising, and a delightful paradox in regards to Australian audiences in comparison with English and US audiences, Mr. Ernstwhistle was so popular with the Australian public that he subsequently came back in later films.
These films may well be just of ‘historical interest’ now, however, I would argue that if viewed they would still garner laughs and be extremely popular.
Marcus Clarke’s For the Term of His Natural Life (1874) is the greatest of all ‘convict’ novels. It is epic in scale and sweep, with multiple characters, locations, situations, and whilst there are major inconsistencies and wild melodramatic flourishes, nonetheless, it is a truly thrilling adventure story. The novel is still in print, although I’m not too sure how many ‘modern’ 21st Century Australians have actually read, or even know about it. However, after it was first published it was probably the most popular and well-read work of Australian fiction in the late-nineteenth century.
For the Term of His Natural Life was virtually immediately adapted for the theatre, and there were two early silent film versions in 1908 and 1911. It is, however, Norman Dawn’s 1927 silent film epic that was and remains the best dramatic realization of the novel – even though what remains of the original feature film is incomplete.
At the time it was the most expensive Australian film ever made. The film was produced by Australasian Films and was to be directed by Raymond Longford. Australasian Films, however, desiring an American release instead employed American director Norman Dawn, and imported American silent film ‘stars’ to play the major roles of Rufus Dawes (George Fisher) and Sylvia Vickers (Eva Novak), amongst others. The film was a great success in Australia but did not repeat that success when shown in the UK and USA. It was actually not released in the USA until 1929, which by that time was already going through its film revolution with the introduction of ‘sound’, subsequently making For the Term of His Natural Life seem old-fashioned and out-of-date.
For some it may still be regarded as such, nonetheless, there are some truly extraordinary scenes, particularly those depicting convict life in Port Arthur, Adelaide. The film-makers went to great lengths and expense in authentically re-creating convict life in Port Arthur, including location shooting at Port Arthur, as well as borrowing clothes from Tasmanian museums and duplicating them for the film. Some of the Port Arthur footage from the final film was used by Charles Chauvel in a 1932 ‘travelogue’ called Ghosts of Port Arthur.
It is primarily due to these extraordinary Port Arthur prisons sequences that For the Term of His Natural Life earns and deserves its place amongst the ‘Top Australian Films of All Time’.
TONY’S TOP AUSTRALIAN FILMS:
#2 – THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE (1919).
Raymond Longford’s film version of C. J. Dennis’ SONGS OF THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE (1915) is truly an Australian ‘classic’ film, and deserves to be always in any list of ‘Top Australian films of all time’.
There are a number of things about this film that makes it special. Firstly, there is Raymond Longford (1878-1959) who produced, directed and co-wrote the screenplay. Longford is possibly the greatest of the Australian silent filmmakers. His career and life is a roller-coaster of ‘boom to bust’. His early film career is linked to his partner Lottie Lyell who co-wrote THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE with him, as well as many others, and appears as Doreen in THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE. Longford was already married when began his relationship with Lottie Lyell, but his wife refused to grant a divorce. Lottie Lyell died on T.B in 1925. From then on Longford’s career and life was gradual and humiliating decline. He ended up being a night-watchman on the Sydney wharves, dying, virtually in poverty, in 1959 at the age of 80 and largely forgotten. However, Raymond Longford was true ‘pioneer’ of Australian film, in directing, producing, writing, and fighting for an authentic Australian voice in film. He was highly critical of the influence and dominance of films and film-makers from the UK and the USA. He eventually softened his criticism of the Americans, preferring them due to their technical skill and artistry, as well as their sensitivity and encouragement of establishing an Australian film industry. Whereas the English were less technically skilled and regarded Australians as mere ‘colonials’ and ‘convicts’.
THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE is Raymond Longford’s masterpiece. However, there are many others that are noteworthy, and perhaps more indicative of Longford’s aesthetics and style. THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE, and its sequel, GINGER MICK, were highly successful, but they are not necessarily atypical Longford films. Longford was a bit of a maverick and a rebel, as befitting someone who is basically inventing feature films making in this early period of silent films. A more typical Longford-Lyell film is THE SILENCE OF DEAN MAITLAND (1914), which was highly controversial for its time, and involved a number of legal battles.
Another reason why THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE is special is the naturalistic acting that is unique to ‘world cinema’ of the time. This is most evident in the performances of Arthur Tauchert as ‘The Bloke’ and Lottie Lyell as Doreen. The naturalistic nature of this romantic comedy is enhanced by the given circumstances, which are essentially out-door locations in post-WW1 Darlinghurst, Sydney. Furthermore, perhaps due to the influence and presence of Lottie Lyell, but as he later admitted he was developing a particular aesthetic that was directed towards women as he regarded Australian women as more empathetic than Australian men to human drama.
THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE also has a special place in my affections as it was my father who introduced the poem to me, especially the ‘The Play’. In this poem, ‘The Bloke’ takes Doreen to see a production of Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’. It is one of the funniest versions of Shakespeare’s famous play, and it is wonderfully realized in the film. THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE has an Adelaide and South Australian connection. C. J. Dennis was born in Auburn, about 100kms from Adelaide, and the first screening of THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE took place in the Adelaide Wondergraph on 26 November 1918.
For many years it was thought that this film had been lost. However, in 1952 a complete copy was found, restored and screened at the 1955 Sydney Film Festival. Raymond Longford was not invited because the organizers thought he was dead. An original negative print was discovered by accident in the USA in 1973. This American version was a better print than the one found in 1952. It was this version that was the basis for the 2000 restoration of the entire film by the Australian National Film and Sound Archive. This restoration is available as a two-set DVD, with an accompanying booklet about the film and its recovery and restoration. THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE needs to be reclaimed and rescreened so that it once again can take its place as on the ‘Top Australian Films of All Time’.
Jean Genet (1910-1986) is one of the most controversial and challenging French writers of the 20th Century. His major works include the semi-autobiographical novels Our Lady of the Flowers (1943), Querelle de Brest (1947), and The Thief’s Journal (1949) and the plays The Maids (1947), Deathwatch (1944), The Balcony (1956), The Blacks (1959) and The Screens (1961).
Genet was a vagrant, a thief, a criminal, and a homosexual. He was also incredibly independent, driven and opportunistic. His wrote his first major work, Our Lady of Flowers (1943) on brown paper in a prison cell. A prison guard caught him, confiscated his writings and burned them. Genet then rewrote the whole thing again. On his release, he sought out Jean Cocteau who was impressed with Genet’s writing, which complemented his own existential work and introduced Genet to other influential French artists, such as Jean-Paul Sartre. It was due to Cocteau and Sartre, as well as Picasso, that Genet was published. They also helped prevent him from returning to jail.
Sartre went on to write a detailed analysis of Genet’s work called Saint Genet (1952). This so disturbed Genet that he did not write again for a number of years, but when he did, it was to create some of the most explosive and controversial plays of the 1950s. Furthermore, Genet inspired many other artists from different fields, including Jacques Derrida, Lindsay Kemp, Angela Davis, Michel Foucault, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, and David Bowie.
It is perhaps difficult to fully appreciate today the absolute radicalism of Genet and his considerable impact and influence – at least in Australia. I was reminded of this in a recent radio interview here in Adelaide, promoting a production of Genet’s The Maids that I am directing, with the wonderful, highly informed and experienced Peter Goers. Peter questioned me as to why Genet is not done much anymore. At the time, I was a bit thrown by Peter’s accurate question. I muttered something about Sartre, that Genet’s theatre, according to Sartre is the theatre of ‘fury’ and ‘hate’. This is most certainly true and is an integral part of The Maids in its murderous and suicidal hatred of class and privilege. Peter’s question, however, has made me reflect, and the following should be read more as a meditation on Genet and The Maids.
The Maids is possibly the most well-known and most performed of Genet’s plays. It is complementary to a great deal of post-WW 2 and early Cold War drama in theatre and film of the time, in that it involves secrets and the gradual and eventful unraveling of those secrets. Subsequently, it shares certain themes with such works as Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire, which was also first performed in 1947.
One reason for The Maids exalted position as a major work of the 20th. Century is primarily due to it having three wonderful female roles, amongst the best of world theatre. Many great actresses have performed the roles of the maids, Solange and Clair, and their Madame. This includes Glenda Jackson, Susannah York, Vivien Merchant, and recently Cate Blanchett, Isabelle Hubert and Elizabeth Debiki.
Genet’s world is more transcendent and elusive than simplistic emotions. Even if they are full of ‘sound and fury’ they are not ‘nothing’. They tap into the continual bafflement of the individual – caught in between order and chaos, between truth and illusion; between the mask and reality.
What makes Genet rather shocking and provocative is that the illusion is often preferable to the reality with seeming tragic consequences. However, the tragedy is not necessarily how the respective protagonists see it – they tend to see their subsequent demise as a release, a freedom from oppression and a way of remaining true to themselves. Maybe the fact that Genet doesn’t allow for sentimentality and ‘niceness’ is a reason for his current relatively neglected position in modern Australia? Genet is not ‘nice’, he is most certainly not ‘P.C’, and the portrayal of women in The Maids is not particularly flattering; powerful but not ‘nice’. What perhaps needs to be questioned is why there is a sense of dissatisfaction when one is denied ‘niceness’ in preference for bafflement. Order versus chaos, and in Genet’s world it is chaos that wins time and again – as it does in life.
Subsequently, as I muse, is The Maids an ‘absurdist’ piece? The French certainly don’t think so. Most despise the term ‘absurdist’, which was first used to describe such works by the English critic Martin Esslin. The French don’t tend to use this term, but rather see such works as The Maids as deeply reflective of real life. Sartre’s ‘Hell is other people’ isn’t ‘absurd’, it is very real. So too is the eternal battle between servants and masters, or in The Maids case, mistresses. Shakespeare encapsulates the essence of this battle in Julius Caesar when he has Cassius say, ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, / But in ourselves, that we are underlings’ (JC:1.2).
In Genet’s The Maids, it is the Madam’s maids, Solange and Claire who are the ‘underlings’. They represent any person, male and female, who have felt the whip of oppression based on privilege, wealth and class; in fact any form of discrimination. They truly hate the ‘Madame’. Whilst the reason for this hatred is not always clear, nonetheless, it is very real; and if we were truly honest with ourselves we would allow ourselves to empathize with this hatred, as virtually all of us have felt the whip of the boss man or woman and have hated the person simply because we are ‘underlings’, and felt powerless to do anything about it. For example: we rant and rail full of ‘sound and fury’ about Donald Trump, or any other perceived political authoritarian, but all this ‘sound and fury’ actually amounts to nothing but a sense of frustration and a denial of our own significance, influence, and worth. We are powerless; we remain ‘underlings’ with only our hatred and resentment to keep us company (along with other malcontents on FaceBook). However, anger and hatred, as Plato observed, gives us pleasure. So that is partly the cathartic challenge of The Maids – will you, as an audience member, allow yourself to hate? And no – it’s not ‘nice’; but it is human, honest and very real, and not in the least bit ‘absurd’.
Reading through the respective publishing and performance history of Genet’s work it is a relative minefield of explosive condemnation and awe. Whilst I am quietly confident in my production, nonetheless, I am expecting a hammerhead reaction – polarized opinions, bafflement, and that dreadful summation ‘well, that was interesting’. Furthermore, Genet seems to attract the type of criticism that reeks of odious comparisons and how it should be done (like Pinter, Brecht, Wilde, and others), rather than how it could be done. Ah, well – such is the current zeitgeist. All I can offer in defense to my valiant cast and crew is as long as we think we have done the best we possibly can then it really doesn’t matter what others think.
So – why did I agree to direct Genet’s The Maids? To answer this I had to reflect on my relationship with Genet. This began with Lindsay Kemp’s extraordinary production Flowers (1974), based on Genet’s Our Lady of the Flowers, which I saw as a teenager in Sydney.
Not only did it assist in reconciling and articulating my own blooming homosexuality, it also transported me into the magical but dark side of illicit desire, and the heart of existentialism. I then attempted to read Our Lady of the Flowers and A Thief’s Journal, which I found a bit of a struggle, but finally started to get it with Querelle at Brest. This was complemented by reading Joyce’s Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, Camus’ The Stranger and seeing productions of Deathwatch, The Maids, as well as Sartre’s In Camera, Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, Tennessee Williams’ Camino Real, and Ionesco’s Rhinoceros – with the addition of The Rocky Horror Show, Yukio Mishima’s Confession of a Mask, and Tom of Finland.
Yes – this was a discovery of homosexuality in a particular theatrical manner. The point is, however, I had no idea what ‘existentialism’ or ‘absurdist’ meant, not from an academic point of view. I hadn’t read Martin Esslin, Derrida, Foucault, or even much Sartre and Camus. I came at these things not from academic labels but from experiencing them raw without preconceived ideas about what they were supposedly meant to be, albeit filtered through a theatrical gaze – and I am grateful for this innocence. I still tend to flinch and shy away from such labels; all I care about is how it feels and how it stimulates the imagination. However, as with a great deal of ‘gay’ literature – the mask is always present and very real, partly out of necessity, and partly out of desire.
The only other major Genet experience was Jim Sharman’s epic 4 hours NIDA production of The Screens. I was new to NIDA then and agreed to be the staff member to sit through all 10 performances. That’s 40 hours of my life I will never get back again. Jim’s production wasn’t bad – in fact it was rather spectacularly good – but it was baffling and exhausting; which is another challenging aspect of Genet’s work – it should be baffling and exhausting – as well as funny and ‘theatrical’. I think ‘theatrical’ is preferable to ‘absurdist’.
So – here I am forty years on from my initial contact with the world of Genet and finally entering and endeavouring to produce my own version of The Maids in collaboration with others. Why? Well, as previously mentioned, it does offer three terrific female roles. I was asked to direct this by a couple of Adelaide actresses with whom I had worked and thought were terrific. It was their idea and passion for the play that was the initial appeal. So my sense of responsibility and commitment to them is very high – and it has been a joy to rehearse with them this complex work, discovering new things at every rehearsal, which is always indicative of a great play and engaging process. For example; today’s rehearsal involved discussion about making final decisions about blocking and ‘locking’ the show into place. Whilst acknowledging that this is ultimately a necessary step I argued that I don’t really like to ‘lock down’ shows. Why? Because the theatre is a ‘live’ experience and this production will be slightly different for each performance. Subsequently, it can never be fully ‘locked down’; there will be a definite blueprint and safety net but it should be allowed to grow and change throughout the season. Some actors like this; others don’t – and that’s okay – but it is part of my aesthetic if you like.
Another reason for doing The Maids is rather selfish. This is recognized as one of the major plays of the 20th Century, and I have never before directed a play by Genet. So this has been a personal artistic challenge of myself. I have no idea really if this is going to work or not. There isn’t any certainty – not with a play like this – but nothing ventured nothing gained. As I have continually harangued respective acting students, you have to be artistically brave and make bold choices if you wish to be truly a theatre artist – the risk is all!
Furthermore, The Maids as well as the theatre venue in which it is to be performed, the intimate Bakehouse Theatre in Adelaide, complements my current aesthetic in regards to theatre. I wish to do plays and productions in venues that are focused primarily on the actor. Whilst I deeply acknowledge and appreciate the art of theatre design, I am more interested in the challenge of an ‘empty space’ and allowing the actors and the playwrights words envelope and engage the audiences imagination, thoughts and feelings.
It is the relative simplicity that is the challenge rather than the theatrical ‘smoke and mirrors’. They have their place, of course, and rightly so, but it is not necessarily where I am focused at the moment. Whilst I can admire and respect a fabulous artistic design and concept I am not moved by it. This is a debatable point, of course, and I have certainly experienced a number of ‘wow factors’ in regard to theatre design, but they are only momentary. Only the actor and the playwright are capable of moving and changing an audience.
I crave the simplicity and challenge of an ‘empty space’; and for me, the actor is the heart of the theatre – as it was in Shakespeare’s time, so it is for me.