My Brother called late on Tuesday and asked if I wanted to go somewhere to watch the France-England friendly on Wednesday evening. It sounded like a good idea, so I agreed. I never realised that, after seeing "Meet The Spartans" mid afternoon (more about that later), we would be in O'Neill's on Broad Street from 4pm to way past 11pm, drinking the whole of the time. Oh, well... Never mind. The game was poor. No excitement, no energy and we lost 1-0, but it was still a laugh and it was nice catching up and talking bullshit with my Brother.
So, where was I?
Oh, yes. I was going to write about Harold Pinter's plays "The Lover/The Collection" at the Comedy Theatre. Jennifer and I saw them on Saturday night. It was my choice, this time.
A small digression, if I may. There is a point. Bear with me.
Between February 1980 and December 1980 I attended work experience at the library at Aston University in Birmingham, for the princely sum of 30 quid a week. At the time the work experience programme was criticised by many people for being a plentiful source of cheap labour, at a time when the unemployment figures in the UK were going through the roof. I can see why some would feel that, but I certainly didn't feel it at the time. True, there was no guarantee of a job at the end of the placement, and some of the training was laughable, but the 30 quid I picked up was 30 quid more than I would be getting sitting on my arse at home waiting for my dole money. The placement did me good. Having to get up in the morning, wash, dress, leave the house and be somewhere for 9am was the discipline and structure that I needed. Still do need it, actually.
At the beginning the placement was frightful. Initially I was stuck in the reclassification section with an awful woman who used to arrive in the mornings on a broomstick amid a squad of flying monkeys. I didn't like her and she didn't like me. Eventually I was moved into student services (or photocopying, ha, ha!) and the two guys who worked in that section were great. A big, middle aged Communist called Norman, who was a dedicated member of CND, and a young, cool, black dude called Wayne who was the in-house technician. Lovely people, the pair of them. They took my surly ass under their wing and showed me that work could be great.
Lunchtimes, I would wander into the library to read, inevitably ending up in the Plays section. It was there that I discovered, amongst others, the works of Harold Pinter. During my 10 months at Aston University I read everything he had written up until 1980 . Strangely, since then, I have read very little. Maybe it was a phase?
OK. Digression over.
"The Lover/The Collection" are two plays about sex, role play and the deceptions and games that adults play.
Sitting here now I am thinking that Saturday night, amazing as it may seem, was the first time I have ever seen a Pinter play performed live. I have seen a few movies written by the man ("The Quiller Memorandum" is one of my favourite spy films of all time), but not a play. My first thoughts are that watching Pinter is a very different animal from reading Pinter. I never realised how funny he is/was. Reading plays can be very dry and serious. Having the words recited by good actors like Timothy West, Gina McKee, Charlie Cox and Richard Coyle makes all the difference, plus, of course, an audience that is not scared to laugh.
I really enjoyed "The Lover/The Collection". Jennifer thought that the plays were dated and she is probably right (the plays were written in 1961 and 1962 respectively), but the actors sparkled and the script crackled with sly humour and ambiguity. Interesting that the plays were being staged at the Comedy Theatre. I think this confused the audience. They are funny plays, but they are not comedies. Or are they comedies? Difficult to tell. I confuse myself. Also a shame that the theatre was half empty. A real shame. Just goes to show that good reviews can mean little to nothing when you are trying to get bums on seats. "The Lover/The Collection" has had some fantastic reviews. Counts for nothing.
I really enjoyed "The Lover/The Collection". Jennifer thought that the plays were dated and she is probably right (the plays were written in 1961 and 1962 respectively), but the actors sparkled and the script crackled with sly humour and ambiguity. Interesting that the plays were being staged at the Comedy Theatre. I think this confused the audience. They are funny plays, but they are not comedies. Or are they comedies? Difficult to tell. I confuse myself. Also a shame that the theatre was half empty. A real shame. Just goes to show that good reviews can mean little to nothing when you are trying to get bums on seats. "The Lover/The Collection" has had some fantastic reviews. Counts for nothing.
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