Alphabetical Order
Little Theatre, May 1986
Arts Centre Theatre Company presents
ALPHABETICAL ORDER
by Michael Frayn
CAST
Leslie - Katherine Speakman
Geoffrey - Walter Browning
Arnold - Tony Smith
John - Tony Gofton
Lucy - Ann Remmers
Nora - Deirdre Browning
Wally - Peter Bovey
Directed by
Tony Smith & Robin Seavill
PS
This was one I would very much like to have been in myself with my old muckers at the Arts Centre Theatre Company, but the dates clashed with a production of An Inspector Calls which I was acting in with another company, so I was only able to come along later and help with the directing.
It turned out I had a rather different view of some of the relationships between the characters than they had been portraying themselves (in short, as a cynic, I did not believe in the central love affair and assumed all along it would fall apart, whereas the actors had been playing it sincerely), and rightly or wrongly I was very much seen as a fox in the hen house in those final few weeks before the run started. At a point when the actors had every right to think they had more or less sorted out what was what and all they had to do was get on top of their lines, here was this upstart swanning in in his suede loafers (I didn’t really wear suede loafers) (anymore) telling them they’d got it all wrong by not paying sufficient heed to the subtext. Luckily, the advantage of having worked with the company for so long meant there was enough camaraderie and mutual trust to avoid anything like fisticuffs, and because of the quality of the script and the confidence of the performances, this was probably one of the most artistically successful shows the Arts Centre Theatre ever did.
Having said that, the best thing about it was nothing I could take the slightest credit for, and that was the set, designed and built by Nick Llewellyn and lit by Phil Hall. At one point, unique in my experience, it actually got a round of applause.
Act 1: Ann R, Katherine S, Walter B, Tony S, Tony G
We are in the library of a provincial newspaper office. It is a mare’s nest of steel filing cabinets and various office detritus. Furthermore, Every surface in the room, according to the stage directions, is occupied by yellow cuttings, open telephone directories, and yesterday’s evening papers. Some of the drawers of the filing cabinets are open, blocking the alleys. In the course of the play this disarray is brought firmly into line under the authoritarian rule of the new young librarian Leslie, a shy, clever, violent girl according to the author’s description. (Speaking as the then boyfriend, and later-to-be husband, of the actress who played this part, I can only attest to two out of those three attributes being at all applicable in real life.) So the ferociously anal Leslie comes into this mess in Act One, and the moment the curtain rises on Act Two, her influence becomes immediately apparent: The same. But it has been transformed. All the clutter and rubbish in the room have disappeared, and there are strict notices everywhere demanding all visitors follow the new protocols. The audience got it instantly: without a word being spoken, the world of the play had changed and nothing was ever going to be quite so cosy again for these characters whom we had come to know and like, hence the applause. (In fact, the transformation was so profound that every night I feared there wouldn’t be enough time for the stage crew to effect everything within the fifteen-minute intermission, so I would routinely go backstage to help. In the end, I was just one more extra body everyone else had to walk around to get to where they were going with their armful, and in the end I was told politely but firmly to bugger off. Quite right too.)
Act 2: Katherine S, Ann R
There was only ever one sticky moment throughout the entire run and that was when one of the actors got stuck in a loop. They knew they were meant to be showing off their new shoes to someone but couldn’t remember who. They started as per script with Lucy: “New shoes, me.” “Smashing.” But then a little later, “Do you like my new shoes, John?” “What? Oh yes. Very nice.” And then again, next page, “I’ve got new shoes, Arnold.” “Er, yes, so I hear.” Pause. “Do you like them?” “Um. I don’t know. Am I supposed to?” But the lovely thing was, by then, the mood and pace and natural rhythm of the piece had become so well established that it didn’t look like a meander off-book at all. And that’s the best kind of production really, the ones where even the fluffs can add to the cumulative effect, rather than kipper the whole caboodle.
l to r: Peter B, Tony G, Deirdre B, Tony S, Ann R, Walter B.
Look at the expressions. Everyone absolutely in the moment and on point. Lovely production.