On his return to directing a few years
ago, Max Stafford-Clark remarked self-mockingly, “If things seem a bit
static stage left, it’s because that’s my blind side since the stroke.”
Stafford-Clark’s, and his partner Stella Feehily’s, experiences during
his treatment for that stroke are a major inspiration for Feehily’s
play, an impassioned piece of agitprop for the preservation of the
National Health Service as we know it. So you could say it’s quite
active stage left in political terms. However, the case it makes is
that a free, tax-funded NHS isn’t radical at all, but has for 65 years
been part of the mainstream of British political consciousness.
Agitprop is more about picking an argument than marshalling one; about
dust-up, not debate. Nevertheless, Feehily knows that in this matter a
shrill voice will be dismissed, so she keeps things articulate if not
always polite; a routine about the mounting debt from Private Finance
Initiative health projects ends with the simple question to the
audience, “Why aren’t you angry?” The first significant NHS
depredations are dated here to the Thatcher era, and so Winston
Churchill and NHS-founding Health Secretary Aneurin Bevan, brought back
from the grave for a couple of spirited if predictable debates, find
common cause in their horror of a squawking budgie named, symbolically,
Maggie.
To forestall fears of placard-waving or barricade-building, the
narrative side of things centres on an ageing, middle-class family led
by the urbane Brian Protheroe and, as his mother, the venerable but
no-nonsense Stephanie Cole. Their experiences in the hospital portrayed
onstage are frankly patchy, sometimes downright shocking, but still
embody the embattled yet perseverant spirit of universal social
medicine. The personification of the NHS may be on a stretcher in a
couple of scenes, but the Grim Reaper (yes, he gets to dispense his
twopennyworth too) hasn’t wheeled her off yet.
Stafford-Clark choreographs his cast of eight with all the expertise
one expects from someone with such a long and influential history of
shaping research material into drama during rehearsals. The switches
between narrative, breakout scenes straight to the audience and even
musical routines are smooth and assured; everything is in the service
of the play, and through that, of the argument. It makes for two
tightly-packed hours of dynamic, urgent theatre in a dynamic, urgent
cause. Even stage left.
Written for the Financial
Times.