W i l l
Waspe
It is a long time since the theatre business was so universally amused by anything as by the fact that the Royal Court Theatre is actually advertising for an Artistic Director to succeed the retiring Oscar Lewenstein as head man of the English Stage Company next summer.
Can it be that the ESC really don't know whom they want? Or are they simply too shy to ask him — or, come to that, her? Are they, perhaps, seeking for some reason to discover who is dissatisfied or disaffected at the National and Royal Shakespeare Companies — and so keen to know that they are willing to wade through all the applications they'll unquestionably get from deadbeats, deadheads and hopeful rep directors throughout the kingdom? No details of desired qualifications are given, but it can, I think, be taken for granted that the upper and lower age limits are about thirty-two and sixteen, and that no one of right-wing views is likely to be considered.
Unique
"I can reveal," said the Evening Standard's Londoner's Diary this week, "that impresario Paul Raymond lost 'well over £250,000' on his extravagant all-nude show Royalty Follies . . ." This would, only be a revelation to non-readers of the Daily Mail, whose David Lewin devoted his coloumn to the subject two or three weeks ago: but the facts themselves are also a sort of revelation to Waspe, who has never heard of any impresario in the entire annals of the London stage losing such a sum. His backers yes, the impresario himself no. Why should any showman in his right mind hazard his own capital in a venture from which he will contractually take 40 per cent of the profits anyway without taking the slightest financial risk? If Paul Raymond has indeed been profligate he will have surely established a record for self-confidence, though he may at the same time forfeit a little of the sympathy due in his misfortune. Even a late change in the title of the Royalty Follies to the International Nude Show or some such (announced as being to avoid confusion with the forthcoming 'Ziegfeld' Follies show) failed to save the day. Nevertheless he is ploughing on undismayed with yet more nudes to re-open the old Windmill Theatre.
Man in the middle
Poor Hugh Jenkins has been catching it from both sides of the political fence, I see. Not only did Norman St John-Stevas moan about him in the Times for his failure to get artists zero-rated for VAT, but his own colleague, Andrew Faulds, had at him in the House for the same reason — even going so far as to call for his resignation. The latter display of internecine conflict was not entirely unexpected, the ebullient Faulds being still somewhat aggrieved at not getting the Arts Minister's job, which he had so long shadowed; but does he really feel he would have been more persuasive with the Chancellor?
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