THEATRE
Ane Border Bandit
Armstrong's Last Goodnight. (Chichester Festi- val Theatre.)-4,000 Brass Halfpennies. (Mermaid.)
HAVE put together a sort of Babylonish 1 dialect that will, I hope, prove practical on the stage,' says Mr. John Arden in the intro- duction to Armstrong's Last Goodnight, 'A play, I think, ought to make sense to common sense people,' said Mr. Arthur Miller, and Mr. Arden also acknowledges his debt to the language of The Crucible. But consider this: Evangelist: John Armstrang—ye are ane rnickle hornit ram—are ye wed-fed by. your shep- herds—spiritual, temporal? I trow nocht. I trow nocht.
Lindsay: And I trow somewhat different. master. The wame of this Laird nickers nae langer. Why he is- Gilnockie: I am the King's Officer! God's tripes, I am distendit!
Evangelist: Your flesh is distendit. And what
... of your conscience, sir?
Now it is quite proper that a playwright should be discontented with the speech fashions and rhythms of his day. To try to ennoble contem- porary man through his over-familiar, ignoble speech is a thankless task, and it is therefore right that playwrights who concern themselves with nobility should frequently turn to the past. It is a pity, however, that the language of the past is so largely incomprehensible to a modern audience. And here that disreputable old mid- wife, compromise, steps in. Mr. Arthur Miller gave birth in The Crucible to a bastard language both strong and readily comprehensible. Mr. Arden has produced his own bastard, a scholarly infant with a streak of poetry, hut a mystery to all about him. It's stupid of him really, for he has all the other qualities in abundance. . .
Having made my point I must record that I was enthralled and excited by Armstrong's Last Goodnight, which presents the conflict between John Armstrong of Gilnockie, 'a great bull of a man' who is 'full of a certain innocence of spirit,' and Sir David Lindsay of The Mount, `ane very subtle practiser.' The essentially simple but noble man is overthrown.
There will surely never be a better production of the play. For instance, Mr. Albert Finney copes not only with the `Babylonish' and a speech impediment, but lifts Mr. Robert Stephens by neck and crotch above his head and is hanged gruesomely from a tree. Mr. Stephens in his turn gives an attractive, intelligent reading, but it is the secondary actors (Mr. Frank Wylie notably) who create such a credible gallery of Scottish ancestors. Armstrong's Last Goodnight must be seen, though you may not understand it.
And I'll be blowed if I can understand the Mermaid's latest offering. This musical adapta- tion of Dryden's Amphitryon by Mr. Bernard Miles is graceless and embarrassing. Must we continue to accept a leering attitude to sex in lieu of wit? And should actors submit to such indignities?-
The mermaid has a tail, not sexual organs;
hence her universal ageless popularity. This Mermaid's tail—in the natural course of evolu- tion—is turning into legs; evolving, yes; but not growing up.
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