THE WALTZ OF THE TOREADORS
Minerva Studio, Chichester
Opened 21 June, 2007
***
From his very first syllable, a geologically over-extended "Ye-e-es?",
we know (if we were ever in doubt) that Peter Bowles will be giving us
a Peter Bowles performance. Age has brought him ever closer to
self-parody, as he puts a paradoxical amount of energy into appearing
languid. In this new translation of Jean Anouilh's 1952 play, he plays
a retired general constantly trying to escape the clutches of his
hypochondriacally bedridden wife for a bit of womanising. When the
long-standing love of his life arrives unexpectedly (they met 17 years
earlier at a military ball, dancing to the waltz of the title, and
amazingly have loved each other chastely ever since), he feels it may
finally be time to divorce... but then his lover, when delirious, has
an encounter with the general's young male secretary...
It is relatively rare to hear Ranjit Bolt make a prose translation. His
verse work sets the metre humming like high-voltage electrical cables;
in prose, one can still hear the deftness with which he renders work
across languages, but there is also less of a hiding place for his
misjudgements. A fondness for fruity expletives (a Bolt hallmark) may
fit the character of the general, but it jars with the period setting
of 1910, the haut-bourgeois
social context and above all the tone of Anouilh, who used rather more
delicacy in dissecting his chosen topics; in this case, he is concerned
with the damage wrought by social and moral codes upon our individual
personal searches for happiness and fulfilment. Nor were matters helped
on the press night by Bowles being so shaky on lines that he palpably
put some of his fellow actors off.
Angus Jackson's production has a number of nice touches and only one
serious false note, the over-exaggeration of the general's daughters'
irritating baby-doll stupidity. I intend no insult in saying that
Maggie Steed as the general's wife gives at least as fine a performance
as a disembodied voice from offstage as she does when finally appearing
before us. Anouilh's superficially happy ending does not disguise the
mercilessness of his basic observation that an opportunity once wasted
can never be regained.
Written for the Financial
Times.
Copyright © Ian Shuttleworth; all rights
reserved.
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