Kristine Hughes – Page 46 – Number One London

THE AUDIENCE – A REVIEW

Recently, my daughter, Brooke, decided to surprise herself with tickets to see Billy Joel for her birthday. She bought two tickets to the concert and sent me a text message –

Brooke: Just got two tix to see Billy Joel for my birthday. No one I’d rather spend my birthday with than you so you’re coming. Already bought. You can’t say no.

Me: OK. Where?

Brooke: MSG

Me: Huh?

Brooke: Madison Square Garden.

Me: In NYC?!

And so we planned a long weekend in Manhattan. It occured to me to look online to see what was playing in the theatres during our stay. And look what I found –

It took me a New York minute to click on the “buy” button. And then I sent Brooke a text –

Me: I just got us two tix to see Helen Mirren in The Audience.

Brooke: Who?

Me: Helen Mirren. British actress. You’ll know her when we see her. She’s playing the Queen.

Brooke: K

K? That’s what you say to two tickets to see The Audience? K?

So, Thursday night we went to see Billy Joel at the Garden. He was fabulous. Here’s a clip of Piano Man from the show we attended on May 28.

And on Friday night we had dinner at Patsy’s iconic Italian restaurant and then headed to the theatre to see Dame Helen (Yay!)

The Schoenfeld Theatre is intimate in size, so when we found our seats, I was delighted to find that we were just six rows back from the stage. I could write my own review of the play, which, unsurprisingly, was fabulous, but there are others who have written better and so I give you the excellent piece written for the Huffington Post:

Take a revered, honored and accomplished actress (Dame Helen Mirren) and put her in a new play which reprises a character that won her a Best Actress Oscar in 2006 (as Elizabeth in “The Queen”). And not a mere ripoff. Put it in the hands of Peter Morgan, who wrote “The Queen,” and whose theatrical bonafides include the astonishingly good Frost/Nixon; and director Stephen Daldry, of the stunning 1992 revival of An Inspector Calls and the international musical hit Billy Elliott. There are enough fans of Mirren, and H.R.H., and Anglophile television, to attract S.R.O. audiences in the West End and on Broadway for as long as the star wishes to wear the crown.

“Snapshots from The Queen,” you might call it; in this case, it is more like a scrapbook. “The Queen” was set in one year of Elizabeth’s reign, 1997, when she was dealing with the death of Princess Diana; Morgan’s The Audience centers on sixty years-worth of Elizabeth’s weekly audiences with her Prime Ministers (eight of whom are represented, starting with Winston Churchill and ending with the current David Cameron). And there’s the rub. While most theatergoers are likely to be thrilled byThe Audience–or more precisely, by Mirren’s performance in The Audience–the concept dictates that we will be seeing pages from a scrapbook, without the dramatic heft that would make it a fine and/or important play.

Yes, there is great life for The Audience with Helen Mirren; but the script itself seems to be merely an element of the evening devised to support the star performance, in the same manner as Bob Crowley’s sets and costumes and Ivana Primorac’s hair and make-up. Consider The Audience without the participation of Helen Mirren; while other stars are likely to try it–Kristin Scott Thomas is scheduled to do the play at London’s Apollo next month–the appeal, here, is watching the star of “The Queen” playing The Queen live and in person. Compare this to Frost/Nixon; while original stars Sheen and Langella were unforgettable in the roles, the play is more than strong enough to work with any number of actors.

The format is simple enough. The Equerry–a combination butler/narrator–sets the scene; Geoffrey Beevers, one of the four actors imported with Mirren from London, has a droll and authoritative, raised-eyebrow manner which keeps the evening moving. One is slightly surprised that he doesn’t start the affair with one of those “the action starts in 1936, before the age of cell phones, so please do toggle yours off” speeches. We then see Elizabeth with one of her more familiar prime ministers, John Major (a somewhat restrained and not-quite-comfortable Dylan Baker). Major exits; Equerry makes a little speech; a team of ladies-in-waiting help Mirren through an impressive, onstage costume change that trims forty-three years; and we see the silhouette of her first prime minister, Winston Churchill. Daldry gives Dakin Matthews a grand reveal, almost as if the silhouette of Alfred Hitchcock sprang to life. (This was presumably effective in not-so-merry olde England, but at the press preview attended it was clear that a major portion of the patrons had no idea who this Mr. Churchill was.)

That’s the framework. Between ministers, Mirren has costume and wig changes; some onstage, some off, and some rather remarkable–but there’s something faulty when one of the major highlights of an entertainment are the costume changes. (The most memorable element of the recent musical Cinderella, alas, was a costume change–which kept people talking but was indicative of the lackluster show itself.) Morgan also gives us a running character he calls “Young Elizabeth”–played at the performance attended by Sadie Sink, who alternates in the role with Elizabeth Teeter–who talks to one servant or other (and eventually her elder self) about how she would rather be able to go outside and play like all the other girls and boys.

The “imaginary conversations from history” nature of things is interrupted by the appearance of Harold Wilson, the Labour minister who served from 1964-70 and 1974-76. Wilson has an awkward, bull-in-the-china-shop scene in the first act, and a highly amusing scene with the queen in Scotland, in which he describes the Queen’s Balmoral C
astle as a “Rheinland Schloss.” (He continually kids the Regent about her family’s Germanic heritage.) The play ends with a third Wilson encounter, this one moving and emotionally affecting.

I can’t say whether the Wilson scenes are better than the rest of the play because of the actor, Richard McCabe; or whether Mr. McCabe, who won the Olivier Award for this performance (as did Mirren), sparks the play alive because of the writing. In any event, Wilson is the only Minister up there created as more than a revue sketch. In fact, Elizabeth and Wilson–as drawn by Morgan–could populate their own play, and it might well be as compelling as Frost/Nixon.

Mr. McCabe is a treat to watch. So, to a lesser extent, is Michael Elwyn as Anthony Eden. His participation is restricted to one, short scene; but it offers high stakes writing, centering on the Suez crisis of 1956, which tarnished the United Kingdom’s place in the postwar world and caused Eden’s resignation in disgrace. The Suez scene, following Balmoral and followed by the Margaret Thatcher sequence, makes the second act far more involving than the first. This despite the fact that Judith Ivey, who storms on like a Texan Thatcher, seems somewhat out of place (although this might be a question of the writing).

So look to The Audience for an audience with Helen Mirren, dressed and coiffed as Elizabeth II. An audience with Helen Mirren makes a fine night’s entertainment, but not–in this case–a compelling dramatic event.

You can watch a clip of Dame Helen’s acceptance speech from the 2015 Tony Awards when she was voted Best Leading Actress. She also won the Olivier Award for this role in 2013.

After the show, when Brooke and I were leaving the theater, we saw that barricades had already been erected either side of the stage door and a car was parked, ready and waiting, at the curb. Brooke offered to stand with me if I had my heart set on seeing Dame Helen, but I declined. I decided that it was best to recall her as she was on the stage, rather than when being hounded by autograph seekers.

So we turned away and began to walk down the block on our way to the Rum House for some much anticipated cocktails. Note: I had my very first Pimm’s Cup. Yumm.

However, we’d only gone a few steps towards the next door theatre when we found that the actors who’d appeared in that play were already on their way out. I stood on tip toes and craned my neck in order see the actor who was causing such a stir.

Brooke: Can you see who it it?

Me: Yes.

Brooke: Well, w
ho is it?

Me: Bill Nighy!

Brooke: Who?

Me: A British actor. He’s been in Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, Pirates of the Caribean. You’d know him if you could see him, he looks exactly like himself! Too bad you’re too short to see. We’ll Google him when we get to the Rum House.

Bill Nighy is starring in Skylight with Carey Mulligan

New York was wonderful, as it turned out, and it was great to have four whole days alone with Brooke. Still, I didn’t see myself returning any time soon – until I read that Colin Firth is set to play Henry Higgins in the Broadway revival of My Fair Lady.

THE SEARCH FOR PAGET'S LEG

This post was originally published here on June 19, 2011

Wellington comforts Paget after his surgery at Waterloo

I am so glad, for so many reasons, that my very good friends are Jo Manning and Victoria Hinshaw, not least because we share the same historic interests and the same mania for researching, and visiting, little remembered facts and places in British history. Recently, Victoria kept Jo and I in thrall with the minutae of her research itinerary whilst in England via a series of rapid fire emails – where she was going, what she was researching, the research matrix she’d prepared, who her contacts were at various archives, what the train timetable was and where she’d be eating lunch. And Jo and I swooned at the prospects. In addition to shared interests, all three of us have our own, unique historic quests and we support each other fully in these, no matter how crazy they seem. Last year, my particular quest was something the three of us termed “The Search for Paget’s Leg.”

Being an avowed Wellington afficianado, you wouldn’t think that I’d spare much energy worrying about either Henry Paget, Lord Uxbridge (created Marquis of Anglesey by Geo. IV five days after the Battle of Waterloo) or his leg, as Paget had earlier run off with Wellington’s sister-in-law, his brother Henry’s wife, Lady Charlotte. At the time, Paget was also married – to Lady Jersey’s daughter, Lady Caroline Elizabeth Villiers, by whom he’d sired eight children. (Yes, eight – the bounder! He went on to have TEN more with Charlotte). Wellington felt the impact of this desertion as well, as it threw Henry into a decline from which he was slow to recover and, in the meantime, Wellington and his wife, Kitty, had to take care of Henry’s two young children, as Henry was incapable of doing so himself.

You’ll recall that last year Victoria and I embarked on a whirlwind London/Waterloo tour, during which I was most looking forward to seeing the spot in Waterloo where Paget’s leg was buried. Yeah, yeah – totally nuts. But you have to bear in mind that Victoria, Jo and I are the Lucy Ricardos of historical research.

I realize that I’m writing this blog as if you already know the story behind Paget’s leg. If for some odd reason you’re not familiar with it, click here for the condensed version of the story. So . . . all along the route of our tour, from London to Waterloo, I’d sigh at intervals and tell Victoria, “I can’t wait to see Paget’s leg.” After the re-enactment of the Battle of Waterloo itself, Paget’s leg was to be the highlight of the tour for me. I’ve already admitted that this notion of mine was strange, but it becomes stranger still when you realize that Paget’s leg isn’t even at Wellington’s headquarters in Waterloo any longer. It was disinterred and shipped back to England when Paget (Anglesey) died in 1854 and was buried along with the rest of him in St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. Yes, Paget and Wellington are buried in the same place. Poor Artie couldn’t shake this guy loose, even in death.

So . . . . the very last stop on the Waterloo portion of our tour was the Wellington Museum (formerly Wellington’s headquarters), where, out in the back garden, stands the spot where Paget’s leg (once) was. Even though the Heavens didn’t direct rays of sunight onto the grave whilst I was there, nor did a choir of angels sing whilst I gazed upon it, I was in alt.

The (rather smallish) back garden

The (once) final resting place of Paget’s leg

The sign by the (former) grave

Of course, the grave itself was not the Holy Grail, rather it had become to me the symbol of all that was the Battle of Waterloo – the tragedy, the drama, the irony, the heartbreak and the heroics. I could have as easily fixated upon the site of the Duchess of Richmond’s Ball, which would have been just as fitting, as that no longer exists, either.

So . . . what’s next on my 19th century bucket list? The decoupage screen Beau Brummell was toiling away on and which was meant to be a present to his great good friend Frederica, Duchess of York. Brummell stopped working on it when news of her death reached him in France. Trouble is, I have no idea where to begin looking for it. If you’re an aged aristocrat living in the back of beyond who happens to have the screen in your attic, email me. Heck, email me even if the screen only used to be in your attic. Victoria, Jo and I will then embark on what we shall no doubt call “The Quest for Brummell’s Screen.”

WHAT WE SAW AT WATERLOO 2010

In the run up to the Bicentenary of the Battle of Waterloo, Number One London will be deviating from our usual publishing schedule in order to bring you all things Waterloo, beginning today. We hope you’ll enjoy revisiting some of these posts as much as we have. Huzzah!

This post was originally posted here in 2010 and in 2013.

In 2010, on the anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo, Victoria and I toured the battlefield and I stayed on for the Battle re-enactment. In a lead up to this year’s anniversary of the Battle, below are but a few of our favorite photos from that visit.