Theatre
An Inspector Calls (Westminster) Kiss Me Kate (Old Vic)
Yorkshire moralist
Christopher Edwards
his revival of one of J, B, Priestley's most popular plays is set in the fictitious North Midlands industrial town of Brum- ley, otherwise known as Bradford. Written in 1945, the action takes place in 1912 in the dining-room of the prosperous Birling family. The historical setting of the play gave Priestley the chance for a good deal of ironic commentary directed at his charac- ters' false sense of security. 'There will be no war,' promises Arthur Birling, pater- familias and local bigwig. 'Scientific prog- ress makes it impossible. Why, look at the new liner, the Titanic — unsinkable, abso- lutely unsinkable.' The irony is un- ashamedly heaved at selected targets which include, notably, capitalist selfishness and that characteristic Edwardian self- assurance about which Priestley (in other works) could be so nostalgic. But in this play the Yorkshire moralist is in a severe frame of mind. Perhaps 'severe' is going too far. Priestley's essential good nature prevails even when he admonishes; steely geniality might be nearer the mark.
The curtain goes up as a celebratory dinner in the Birling household is coming to an end. Arthur's daughter, Sheila, is engaged to Gerald Croft, the son of another rich manufacturer. The marriage is seen by Birling essentially as a business deal which may help the two firms work together 'for lower costs and higher prices'. Birling pere's advice to the young is that 'a man has to mind his own business and look after himself and his own'. Having set the household up as insufferably smug (mur- murs of dissent can, it is true, be heard from the younger generation), Priestley deals them all an unforgettable lesson. The doorbell rings and their unexpected visitor falls upon them like an avenging angel. Or at least like an outraged socialist.
The visitor, who describes himself as a police inspector, tells them that a young working-class woman committed suicide that afternoon and died in great agony. The rest of the play consists of a skilfully managed series of revelations as each member of the family is put on the rack. Birling senior sacked the girl for organising
a strike. Sheila, in a fit of petulance, had her dismissed from her next job at a local clothes shop. Gerald set her up as his mistress and then dropped her. The young drunkard son of the house picked her up at a bar and made her pregant. Mrs Bit-ling, meanwhile, grandly turned her away when she applied to her charitable committee for assistance. All are punished; all contri- buted, or so it seems, to her tragic death. But did they? Are these specific 'crimes' or only more generalised instances of the rich and privileged exploiting their social and economic superiority?
The message Priestley beats on his drum is that of social justice. It might sound heavy-handed. Certainly he was un- ashamedly writing a morality play as well as a moral thriller. The characters, their manner and the overall style of the piece do (as he recognised) possess what might generously be called a certain uniformity of tone. But, in the viewing, you cannot but be impressed by Priestley's artful construc- tion. You might even (like your reviewer) find yourself pleasantly gripped.
Tom Baker's mysterious Inspector de- rives an impudent glee from the discomfort he causes (`He's not an inspector. Well, he inspected us all right'). This endears him to the audience even if it does somewhat cut across his beaky, inquisitorial schoolmas- ter's manner. At times the sudden switch into denunciatory rhetoric does strain his natural resources (he is not everyone's idea of a herald of 'blood, fire and anguish', not even to Yorkshire). Perhaps the part could be played with even more sardonic relish than it is. But this is a minor quibble. The production is a solid, reliable revival of a Priestley classic.
There is space only to mention the RSC's excellent touring production of Cole Porter's Kiss Me Kate which is now instal- led in the Old Vic. The songs are some of Porter's wittiest and most melodic, includ- ing Too Darn Hot', 'I Hate Men' and `Brush Up Your Shakespeare' — the lat- ter, you may recall, sung by the two Bard-struck Mafia hoods who chaperone Nichola McAuliffe's Kate about the stage in order to prevent her from walking out
on Paul Jones's Petruchio. The production has charm and freshness as well as the necessary slickness. It is highly recom- mended.
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