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The Old Vic and Theatre Royal Bath Productions present
A review by Mary Couzens for EXTRA! EXTRA!
Peter Hall’s thoughtfully intelligent interpretation of Shaw’s mythologically inspired play, Pygmalion (1912) is one which allows its audiences to access the social mores and manners of Edwardian society, and the foibles and insecurities of some of its inhabitants, as well as the play’s more commonly addressed issues centring on gender and class. Rather than just serve as representations of ‘types’, its players breathe, articulate and act within the context of their characters, often embodying the social issues which seem inherent to the very fibre of their beings in the process. The play opens on a misty note, literally, as handsome young Freddy dashes about on a rainy night, searching for a cab for his perpetually whining sister and mother, who are waiting between the columns in Covent Garden piazza. Many travellers share their shelter, some of a more bedraggled appearance and others, similarly bedecked to them, in opera going finery. Into this maelstrom steps Eliza Doolittle, one of Covent Garden’s many tattered flower-sellers, who, on this occasion, has a definite axe to grind. Little does Eliza realise however, that the subject of her tirade, Professor Henry Higgins, who has inadvertently destroyed the saleability of her violets as he knocked her basket over, is standing behind the column she rests against, taking down her every word. The transformation aspect of this charming tale takes root when linguistic expert Higgins meets up with Colonel Pickering, master of Indian dialects and a bet is forged between the pair as to whether or not the “deliciously low” Eliza Doolittle can be ‘passed off’ as a Duchess at the Royal Garden Party they’ll be attending in some months time. Eliza’s agreement to Higgins’ decision to transform her into a ‘lady’ presents all kinds of possibilities for Shaw to explore and this high definition production addresses them with both aplomb and alacrity. The fact that Shaw aligned himself with the Suffragettes and wrote Pygmalion at the height of their struggle for equality is reflected not only in the independent nature of its heroine, Eliza Doolittle, but also in his and, Hall’s representations of Higgins’ dogged mother, his oft lecturing, long-term housekeeper Mrs. Pearce, and the aforementioned Freddy’s, sister, Clara, who, in conjunction with her anguished mother, Mrs. Eynsford Hill, whose family’s fortunes are in decline, is also representative of the ever-widening generation gap between those of Victorian and, Edwardian inclinations. These firm, yet feminine characteristics are admirably depicted, in the first glowing instance, by the incandescent, alternately fragile and funny Michelle Dockery, who, in real life, proclaims herself “an East-ender and proud of it.” Between Hall’s perceptive directing and Dockery’s canny capacity to slide her accent up, or down the Cockney scale, from Music Hall to atypical, depending on what circumstances require, i.e. selling flowers to ‘toffs’ in Covent Garden, or booking lessons on ‘how to be a lady in a flower-shop’, helps to deepen the layers of Eliza’s ‘before’ state more than any actress’ performance of the role that I’ve seen, be they theatrical (Tony Award nominated Amanda Plummer – Broadway, 1987) or musical - Lerner and Lowe’s My Fair Lady (Olivier Award winner, Martine McCutcheon – NT 01). Dockery’s first ‘public’ appearance at Mrs. Higgins’ ‘At Home’, in which her Eliza looks and moves more like a china doll than a ‘lady in progress’ is nearly as chilling as it is hilarious. That scene in particular, inadvertently, or perhaps, intentionally sheds light on the timeless foibles inherent to feminine ‘dolling up.’ Under Hall’s feted direction, Dockery’s glib adlibbing betrays her character’s origins, in a way that makes her interpretation of her seem closer than ever to the way Shaw himself may have intended Eliza to be. Barbara’s Jefford’s dogged treatises on manners instantly delivered upon provocation, without invitation to her self-serving son Henry, seem to suggest a rather smothering childhood. Such are the implications of Jefford’s fierceness, as she continually averts Higgins’ embraces, by angrily removing his hat! Even his housekeeper, Mrs. Pearce, played with fond anxiety by Una Stubbs, tries in vain to keep Higgins in line. Hall’s feisty slant on Stubbs’ adamant Mrs. Pearce arguably represents one of the most feminist performances in the production. Emma Noakes openly flirtatious Clara Eynsford Hill similarly mirrors the ‘equal rights’ ethics of the time, as she throws endless dimple-laden smiles at the character whom Shaw himself aptly dubbed, ''a confirmed bachelor with a mother fixation,” Henry Higgins. Tim Piggott-Smith’s, Professor Higgins is all self-congratulatory pomp as he prances about the stage, mercurially moving to and fro in time with the music of his own agitated thoughts. His interest in Eliza is purely scientific, and never the twain should science and love meet, as Shaw intended and indeed, insisted the case was, and always should be. However, the fact that it may be possible to regard a woman, on an equal par with a man, in terms of friendship, is a notion Higgins’ has never reckoned with before. Piggott-Smith, as Higgins, coming to terms with his own rather grim reality is indeed, something to behold, and, long remember. It’s also a miracle of sorts that in this production, director Hall has enabled both Higgins’, and Eliza’s transformations to occur, more or less, simultaneously. In the academic, but nonetheless chaotic world of Prof. Higgins’, James Laurenson as Colonel Pickering offers an alternative, male voice of reason to Mrs. Higgins’ and Pearce’s largely, disregarded ones. Laurenson’s changes of expression as realizations dawn upon him often prove invaluable, as they are not only enjoyable to watch, but also, offer insight and contrast to the stubborn, pride oriented thinking and actions of his friend and associate Higgins. Tony Haygarth plays Eliza’s father, Alfred P. Doolittle with great verve as he expounds the wisdom of the streets, on which, he, “can’t afford to have morals.” Doolittle’s progression from ne’er do well to well to do represents the often refuted, but nevertheless, wide spread desire to trade rags for riches of the great unwashed, and, at the same time, pokes fun at middle-class morality. And it makes a change to have Doolittle drawing on his Welsh origins, as written. As green romantic Freddy Eynsford Hill, Matt Barber, who is facially, faintly reminiscent of a young Christopher Reeve may not get to sing, ‘On the Street Where You Live,’ as he would in My Fair Lady, but his Freddy seems genuinely fascinated with Eliza’s use of what her teacher cleverly dubs ‘the new slang’, in an attempt to override her more ‘common,’ off the cuff conversing, and easily, and, rather touchingly blushes at the object of his adoration’s slightest glance in his direction. Impressive sets, designed by Simon Higlett, and built by Robert Knight, which move the play’s action from its Covent Garden piazza opening, to Professor Higgins’ Wimpole Street library and Mrs. Higgins’ Chelsea Embankment drawing room and back again, are in keeping with the production’s high-calibre acting and directing. The wood-panelled library boasts a host of gadgetry akin to Higgins’ linguistic profession and Mrs. Higgins’ vast, curtained drawing room features realistic looking floral arrangements in huge urns at either end. Sound by Gregory Clark, includes drizzling rain in the piazza, while recorded music by Mick Sands, rather cinematic in style, is effectively employed whenever the huge red curtain descends to allow for scenery changes. Lighting by Peter Mumford, which is at its most memorable at the play’s moving conclusion, is not generally noticeable and therefore, unobtrusive, which is as it should be for such a text based, character driven production. Costumes designed by Christopher Woods, are of a distinctly slimmer, lighter line for the younger female characters, in keeping with their Edwardian age, and decidedly more Victorian for their fuller bodied elder sisters, such as Higgins’ mother, while Higgins’ own attire is in keeping with his character’s upper-class, civilly disheveled, deliberately eccentric bent. It might not seem possible that in 2008, one could feel challenged by a play about sexual politics, written in 1912. However, in this production of Pygmalion, Hall’s respectfully thoughtful directing has not only assured that its actors are able to offer their audiences views that are timelessly refreshing for their individuality and diversity, but also, in keeping with the ambiguity of Shaw’s own.
0870 060 6628 Groups 0870 060 6644 The Old Vic The Cut London SE1 8NB Running time: 2 hours and 30 minutes, with a 20 min. interval
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