Style: theatre’s bloom on the peach

Press, Volume CXII, Issue 32847, 22 February 1972, Page 10

Style: theatre’s bloom on the peach

(By

HAROLD HOBSON,

theatre critic of the "Sunday

Times." London)

Whenever we see a performance, a production, or a play and say to ourselves, “Well, this could have been done otherwise, but if it had been it would not have been done so well,” we may be sure that we are in the presence of that impalpable, elusive and extraordinary thing we call style.

Someone once said that style is the bloom on the peach. It is evident that without the bloom the peach would still be a peach. But it would not be so good a peach. It is style that raises the good to the level of the superb. It is that quality in a work of art which, so to speak, goes beyond the call of duty. There is a remarkable example of this in Laurence Olivier’s performance in Eugene O’Neill’s “Long Day’s Journey into Night.” This production is one of the National Theatre’s greatest triumphs. The public has instantly responded to its out-

standing merit, and there are ■ queues outside the box office throughout the day. Olivier plays the part of a flamboyant and exhibi- 1 tionist actor whose family is racked with illness and misfortune. The scene is his seaside vacation house some time in the year 1912. At one point Olivier has to get on to a table to adjust a ceiling light. Having got on to the table he has, of course, to get off. Now there are several ways of getting off a table that are neither striking nor graceful, but which are certainly safe. Olivier could, if he wanted, be assisted down by one of the other actors. Or he could sit down on the table and slide off it. Either of these methods would be perfectly adequate, but they! would not be more than: [adequate. I For this reason Olivier; rejects them both. For a moment he balances on the; table edge, then steps down —backwards. This requires an extraordinary degree of physical command. It is indeed getting down in style, as we say when a thing is done with unexpected splendour or flourish. It is perfectly in character with the part he is playing. The actor he is impersonating is the sort of man who would create a sensation with everything he did. Nevertheless in this astonishing and rather dangerous backward leap Olivier is doing something more than is absolutely necessary. He is putting the bloom on to the peach. We are in the presence of style. The same thing can be said of the performances of Paul Scofield. When he looks through cold, piercing eyes in “The Rules of the Game” he has such obvious confidence and poise that we instinctively feel that he is capable of transcending any ordinarily competent performance that a less gifted actor might give. In “The Captain of Kopenick,” as some time ago in “The Government Inspector,” he creates for himself an entirely new voice, a new method of vocal expression. We become aware of style only when we feel the actuality of supreme ability, the ease of perfect mastery. It is only on such a foundation that style can come into existence. This mastery we encounter in Paul Scofield. We encounter it again in Peter Brook’s production for the Royal Shakespeare Company of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” This play is about mortal human beings coming into magic contact with fairies. On the stage fairies are customarily played by sylph-like creatures floating about in

dresses of gauze, lit by dim i and dreamy lamps. Mr Brook abolishes all i that. His fairies are robust : men and women dressed ini; boiler suits. In place of' dreamily magical illumination we have an unvarying bright white light. The magic is made sharp and palpable. It is translated into terms' :of juggling. Oberon and Puck catching spinning plates upon slender wands while speaking Shakespeare’s; incomparable verse better I than I have ever heard it spoken. In its skill and bravura this production goes far beyond what any audience could reasonably expect. Again the bloom is put on to the peach. There is an especially subtle example of style in William Douglas Home’s comedy, “The Secretary Bird.” This is about a man whose wife is thinking of leaving him. He meets the situation with that immense: and quiet confidence which; I have said is the necessary foundation of style. He. invites the lover; 'down for the week-end, and. iby the simple graces of kind-1; |ness, wit and courtesy. 11

reverses the situation. This is style on the pan of the hero. But there is ! style on the pan of the author. The wife is in error. She is behaving badly. But there [is something to be said for her and Mr Dougias Home says it. He gives to her perhaps the best speech in the i; play. ;i This is the mark of civilisation: to see and to sym- ; pathise with what the other person thinks. And civilisa- : tion is the father and 1 mother, and the brothers and ; sisters too, of style. : This particular speech is • delivered with a splendid 1 calm and persuasiveness by Jane Downs, a young actress ' of great promise. Other young i actresses such as Linda Mar- > lowe and Julia Foster, and • lan McKellen, Jeremy Brett i and Gerald Harper among ‘ the rising men, all have the ! gift of style. • As indeed do some of our i[repertory theatres — Nottingham, Leatherhead, and at [Bristol where a new and ■ ambitious complex has been [created round the incomparlably gracious and ancient Theatre Royal.