Jonathan Church’s three seasons since
taking the helm at Chichester have been masterpieces of trimming and
diplomacy. They have balanced productions with intellectual and/or
artistic bottom against those more likely to prove solid bankers with
the theatre’s core constituency, which is largely neither young (not
even in middle youth) nor radical. This summer, the likes of Rupert
Goold’s jittery, electric version of
Six
Characters
In Search of An Author (just transferred to the West
End) and Ronald Harwood’s diptych of de-Nazification plays have rubbed
up against an all-star (though unexciting)
Cherry Orchard and a revival of
The Music Man.
Tim Firth’s adaptation of his screenplay is a banker. The 2003 film was
a heartwarmer, based on the true story of members of a Yorkshire
village Women’s Institute who, following the death from leukaemia of
the husband of one, hit on the extraordinary idea of publishing a nude
calendar of themselves in aid of charity. The cast includes Elaine C
Smith, Lynda Bellingham, Patricia Hodge, Siân Phillips, Gaynor
Faye, Julia Hills and Brigit Forsyth: not just a bunch of strong
actors, but a number of names whose prospective appearance in the buff
could send a rush of blood to regions due south of many a cardigan. And
they all (with the exception of Forsyth) do get their kits off;
director Hamish McColl stages the photo sequences with a keen eye for
what will and won’t be seen from out front, although he can’t account
fully for the half-hexagon arrangement of the seating in Chichester.
This may, for some, be an exceptional occasion when the best seats are
off to either side.
Firth skilfully compresses the action so that all scenes take place in
the W.I.’s regular meeting hall, and is as ever a dab hand at mixing
sentiment with a rich northern English strain of humour. I noticed one
single line that was unbearably maudlin, and the final visual
coup is excessively cloying, but
elsewhere the combination is just right. Phillips enjoys parodying her
grande dame gravitas; Smith is
something of a wild card; the kernel of the play is the friendship
between Hodge’s and Bellingham’s characters. After seeing the latter in
all her glory, you’ll never look at an old Oxo commercial the same way
again.
Written for the Financial
Times.