The revenge of the understudies.

On Wednesday to a matineé performance of 'Death of a Salesman' at what is now called the Noël Coward Theatre in St. Martin's Lane, one of the eight operated by Delfont Mackintosh. Asking google, one gets a rather cloudy view of what seems to be the Byzantine world of London buildings and theatre ownership, but the story seems to be that the owner is one Sir Cameron Mackintosh and his vehicle is Cameron Mackintosh Ltd 2015. Currently no vacancies. Sir Cameron himself, according to wikipedia, is a proper rags-to-riches story, having worked his way up more or less from the bottom, producing a lot of very successful musicals on the way.

Competent production of a good play, a bit dense, with a lot of complicated dialogue but very little action in the first half, but rather better in the second. A good set which reminded me of that for 'The View from the Bridge' back in 2009, from the same Arthur Miller at the next door Duke of York's, not, as it happens, a member of the Delfont Mackintosh family. The short note at reference 1 suggests that the first half was a bit slow on that occasion too.

Two of the middle ranking roles had called in sick, which meant that three of the understudies got bumped up. One of the bumpings (to Uncle Ben) was not particularly successful, but I thought that Helen Grady did well as the woman and Guy Paul did well as Charley. I also liked Harriet Walter as Linda. 

It strikes me now that the tired old white collar sweat is a recurrent theme in films from the US, although the only one's I can think of now were in the recently seen DVD of  the 1987 film 'Wall Street'. And a common enough phenomenon in real life, one that I recognise, having ended up as one, rushing around, trying to keep afloat in a sea of bright young things jostling for one's slot. I suppose it is where most of us office wallahs end up - and I guess the trick is not to rush too much. Just to let oneself be eased off the stage without making too much fuss about it.

It was hot and crowded out in the street before the off, so we took refuge in the quiet and peaceful Browns Brasserie & Bar, where we were able to take wet & dry refreshment at what seemed very reasonable prices. I dare say it would have been a lot more crowded later on in the day. The theatre was reasonably full with a mixture of the grey brigade and with holiday makers - including some working age ones and with the chap behind us making his annual pilgrimage to London from Winnipeg of all places. He was telling the lady next to him about how odd it was to hear the salesman played by an Englishman faking an American accent. He followed up with the observation that it must be the same for us Brits hearing Americans do Shakespeare.

It was still hot and crowded out in the street afterwards so, rather than brave the rush hour in the heat, we took a time out in L'ulivo's in Villiers Street where they 'take care in choosing the finest, freshest ingredients in order to create some of the most authentic Italian cuisine available in London'. Bruschetta's OK, Nicoise salad OK, but Ceasar salad not so good, with far too much goo lurking at the bottom of the bowl, nothing like as good as that from the pub near Hard Rock (see reference 2). Supplementary bread poor, being bog standard sliced white from a plastic bag. Wine, a Sicilian sov blanc from Cataldo entirely satisfactory. Bill entirely satisfactory.

Onto a crowded train to be regaled by stories from a ninety year old about the glory days of the running track at Motspur Park, the scene of a near four minute mile by Wooderson just before the second war, a record which stood until the Bannister effort afterwards. Plenty of relevant runner nostalgia to be had at reference 3.

Reference 1: http://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=creative+writing+school.

Reference 2: http://psmv2.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/apsley-1.html.

Reference 3: http://www.nuts.org.uk/trackstats/surrey880.htm.