Thursday 7 July 2016

Rehearsed Reading: Stuff Happens

There I was, with nothing to do last night, and London Dramatic Arts popped up with Stuff Happens, at the National. One night only, to coincide with the release of the result of the Chilcot Report, which revealed a woeful lack of evidence for the decision to go to war in Iraq. Well, I checked.. the venue was selling tickets for £10, LDAM for £12.50. I booked my own, with the venue - upstairs, because I figured LDAM would sit as close to the stage as possible.

In Guildford yesterday, which meant I was subject to the vagaries of traffic - well, that's why I chose yesterday to work from there, I knew I could get to the National quickly if I needed to. I had an idea to take the bus.. but as it happened, there was a lane closure on the A3 (which always screws up the traffic), and by the time I got back there was no question of the bus if I wanted to get there in time. Train it was - I'd just missed one, but another was just due when I got to the platform in Clapham Junction.

Train to Waterloo - taking forever to creep to the platform, as usual. Took the main exit and made my way left to the main road, then right - I knew I'd be slightly late. Vexingly, not a single side door was open as I made my way alongside the building. Then, when I finally did get in, could I find the box office..! It's been a while, and this is a nightmare of a building. Found the theatre no problem - finally had to ask someone cleaning tables in the cafe, who told me the box office was just over there. By another door, conveniently tucked out of sight of the rest of the lobby. Really, whoever designed this place should be taken out and shot. And it's about time they started Print from Home tickets here, which would have meant I didn't need the box office at all!

They had a number of tickets printed out for latecomers, but strangely not mine. When they finally got around to it (at a leisurely pace), they assured me that I'd be able to go in after 3 or 4 minutes. I made my way to the theatre door, where another lady was sat watching the beginning of the performance on a telly - and the usher was good enough to get a seat for me. She said there'd be a point after about 5 minutes. I will give them this - the telly for latecomers at the Lyttleton (at least for the upper level) is at least audible - so often, it's not! And so we watched a row of characters rise, one by one, from their line of seats onstage and read from the script. About, eh, their student backgrounds. Because this wasn't a play, per se, but a rehearsed reading - basically, they needed neither sets, nor to learn their lines - they rose from their seats as the scene demanded, and read from the script, in a folder that they held throughout.

When the time finally came for us to be let in, the usher disappeared up the stairs with the other person who was waiting. I was a bit confused - wasn't this my door? Turned out, yes, I was supposed to go with them, she just hadn't thought to tell me. So we were taken in the back way, then waited for a particular line, then were led to - our rows, not necessarily our seats; certainly, I didn't get to sit in my seat, which had another person in it. But I didn't mind, just sat in another that was available - the house was pretty packed, but not completely full.

It sounds a bit dry - but this was actually really entertaining. The large cast had a couple of notable members - Bill Nighy to the side as the grave narrator in thick-rimmed glasses, Julian Sands as a frazzled Tony Blair, with a scraggly hairstyle. George W. gave us the most entertaining moments.. the main characters had an actor each (as well as the aforementioned, we had Condoleeza Rice, Colin Powell, Dick Cheney); other actors played a greater or lesser variety of lesser characters.

It was fascinating to be led back through the events of 2003, and reminded how a combination of soundbites, wishful thinking, and private interests led so many to believe that attacking Iraq.. was the right way to deal with the 9/11 attacks.. which were masterminded by a Saudi Arabian. It was all there - Bush's religious conviction that he was fighting evil, Blair's desperation to find ANYTHING to support his position, now that he'd put his neck on the line. The pressure on the UN weapons inspector, Hans Blix, to find weapons of mass destruction (which he resisted), and the day he was in New York, went out to get milk, and found himself in the middle of the largest anti-war protest in history. They had posters of him.. as he says in the play, he was terrified he was going to be recognised, and kidnapped for use as a mascot, propped up on one of their floats!

A recent editorial in the Evening Standard claimed a direct link between these events and Brexit - well yes, Brexit is the topic of the day, appearing in every discussion, but their contention was that this was the beginning of the end of trust in the political class. It occurred to me several times during the play that most wars throughout history have been fought on spurious grounds - the leaders of the day having one reason, but feeding their followers a more palatable story. It's just these days, people are more questioning. And a lot more sceptical. And can you blame them? The title of the play comes from a quote from the warmongering Donald Rumsfeld; when told of the looting of Baghdad, his response was the callous "Stuff happens". D' you think most politicians these days would dare to show themselves in that light?

Much for thought, there. Now, at the interval, I hadn't moved from my seat.. I'd had a quick look around when I could, but couldn't see the group organiser I was avoiding. She objects to people getting their own tickets, you know - undermines the group. Hmm. So I avoid her when I do that. Well, as the lights came up at the end, I had a good scout of the front row of the stalls, which I could see from where I was, and where she always tries to sit. Sure enough, there she was.. well, I managed to get out of the theatre without running into her, and I had checked the Meetup page, so knew she only had one companion - whom I didn't know very well anyway.

Figured I was safe as I mingled with the crowd outside. I decided against getting the bus back - it was running late (the play was a long one), and I'm in Guildford again today, so had to be up early. So I headed back to Waterloo.. and damned if I didn't glance to the side along the way.. and there she was! They hadn't seen me.. as they approached the road crossing, I hung back, made sure they were well on their way before I crossed the road myself. I knew she'd head for the Underground - didn't see her, and made my way to the departure boards. There was a train going my way from Platform 19 in about 10 minutes - I'd have to pass the Underground entrance again, but figured she'd be gone by now. Damned if she wasn't still chatting with her companion!! Deep in conversation, they still hadn't seen me. I retraced my steps, discovered there was another train going my way, at the same time, from a platform at the other end. And so I made good my escape.. As someone remarked, just like a John le Carré novel. Home safely, but too late to blog.

In complete contrast, I'm with the Man with the Hat tonight and tomorrow. Tonight is back to the Globe (whoopee!) for a performance of Macbeth that didn't get a great review in the Metro. What the hey, I don't pay much attention to those - and it'll be a great night anyway - great venue, great group. I just have to try and get out of here in time.. And tomorrow, he's taking us back to the Royal Opera House, for Il Trovatore. And as is his wont, he's got photos up for both events of where he'll be standing, so we can find him. On Saturday, the plan is to do.. something.. with Helen. TBD - I got a couple of advertising emails today, so we'll see.

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