Longueville Little Theatre Company

‘If it were done, when ‘tis done, then ‘twere done well….’

And it ‘twere done well, extremely well, a most rewarding night for the audience and, I guess, even more so for the cast. They were faultless.

In 1948 as a spotty teenager, I fell in love with the works of a certain William Shakespeare; I was spouting Romeo’s lines in a church hall in south London at the time and the magic of the language captivated me. I’ve been a slave since then.

Over the intervening years I have been in connected with lots of amateur drama groups, and I have always pushed for them to do the Bard’s works, but always there has been a marked reluctance for groups to take the plunge. The excuses for not so doing are varied but usually along the lines of “Oh, our actors couldn’t cope with that sort of thing.” Or: “The audience won’t like it.” As if the audience were a single person!

Last Friday I am delighted to report that both these objections were shot to pieces by the best bit of theatre that LLTC has ever done. I am going to find it hard to be critical about anything I saw and heard. The whole thing went like a train, with everything working like it should. Most of the people in the audience I spoke to said that they had come BECAUSE it was Shakespeare so I implore the group to give us more of the same.

It is going to be difficult to pick out individuals, because they’re so many to chose from, if I did what you all deserve, this crit would be twenty pages long. I have to say that I am always surprised that this play is one of the most frequently tackled by amateurs, for it is not one of the easiest to get across to a modern audience; the fairies, for example, were far closer to reality for the groundlings of the Globe than the fey creatures they appear today. One of the things that gets in the way of clarity, of course, are all the weird names, most of them from the Greek, but Peaseblossom, Mustard Seed, Cobweb and Kingfisher sound more like Bob Geldorf’s kids.

Reading a synopsis of the plot is no great help, it makes it sound a bit like a Brazilian soap opera.

But it works. It worked brilliantly.

The reason that all this still weaves its magic after four hundred years is that Shakespeare was an actor, and he wrote the words that an actor wants to use. He understood what makes an actor tick – just look at the scene where the ‘rude mechanicals’ are rehearsing, all of us involved in amateur theatre could recognize, if not ourselves, certainly other actors!

Eric Thompson and his band of thespians played this to the limit, getting a well deserved round of applause on the night I attended. This scene would stand up as a short play in its own right, and all the ‘business’ worked splendidly.

I am not sure how to define ‘stage presence’ but whatever it is Sara has it, as Helena she shone. She just gets better every time I see her, this has to be one of her best yet; she was a formidable lady on stage and I only heard of the broken collar-bone afterwards. Very brave.

Paul and Simon were very suited as suitors, and their years of experience showed in the confident way they handled the rôles, neither put a foot wrong – not quite a foot wrong, but Simon’s sandal

did look for its fifteen seconds of fame. It didn’t faze Demetrius for a second.

Puck has one of those parts that don’t come around very often, and Sarah de did not waste a word or a move. She was great. I suppose I can call John Drinkwater ‘The Other Big Fairy’ without him taking offence, after all, we go back a very long way, and like a rare claret he has matured beautifully. Lots of Brownie points there and the make-up was very creative. Mr Spock meets Siberian Malamute. Nice legs, by the way, John.

I was pleased to see Ken on the boards again, a touch plumper than of yore, but still able to spout a line with the best of them. All those years in rep. were not wasted Ken.

Hermia looked very decorative, but if I may carp a little, not as clear as she might have been. Don’t take it to heart Jo, I am famously hard of hearing, but there is a lot like me.

Richard Moyo as Philostrate has one of the smallest parts but a small part in a Shakespeare play is like the lead in a Derek Bentley whodunit, so be happy.

One of the fringe benefits of doing this sort of play is that the scenery is not usually too onerous, apart from the backcloths which were excellent. I once saw this play delivered on trapezes at The Old Vic and it was awful, I am so glad this one was more conventional. Well done Maddie, those years at RADA were not wasted and you deserve a big shiny medal for making an old man very happy.

There have been many times, over the years, that I have sat watching some amateur production and fervently wishing I was somewhere else, and it happened again during this production. The difference being that the somewhere else this time was to be up there on the stage with you!

The greatest plaudit of all must be given to the man himself, the fact that he has lasted four hundred years is his monument. To those who, like the ones in my opening remarks, cannot understand him, I leave the following, courtesy of Bernard Levin: “If you cannot understand my argument, and declare “It’s Greek to me”, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you claim to be more sinned against than sinning, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you recall your salad days, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you act more in sorrow than in anger, if your wish is father to the thought, if your lost property has vanished into thin air, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you have ever refused to budge an inch or suffered from green-eyed jealousy, if you have played fast and loose, if you have been tongue-tied, a tower of strength, hoodwinked or in a pickle, if you have knitted your brows made virtue of necessity, insisted on fair play, slept not one wink, stood on ceremony, danced attendance (on your lord and master), laughed yourself into stitches, had short shrift, cold comfort or too much of a good thing, if you have seen better days or lived in a fool’s paradise – why, be that as it may, the more fool you, for it is a forgone conclusion that you are (as good luck would have it) quoting Shakespeare; if you think it is early days and clear out bag and baggage, if you think it is high time and that is the long and short of it, if you believe the game is up and truth will out even if it involves your own flesh and blood, if you lie low till he crack of doom because you suspect foul play, if you have your teeth set on edge (at one fell swoop) without rhyme or reason, then – to give the devil his due – if the truth were known (for surely you have a tongue in your head) you are quoting Shakespeare; even if you bid me good riddance and send me packing, if you wish I was dead as a door-nail, if you think I am an eyesore, a laughing stock, the devil incarnate, a stony-hearted villain, bloody-minded or a blinking idiot, then – by Jove! O Lord! Tut, tut! For goodness sake! What the dickens! But me no buts – it is all one to me, for you are quoting Shakespeare.”