Theatre
Cruel cuts
Sheridan Morley
Right then, let us just survey the battle- field, and this at the end of a year which I remind you brought us a supposedly arts- friendly government. Covent Garden: board resigned, builders in, touring and interim plans a shambles. Old Vie: for sale, Peter Hall forced out, no sign of a likely buyer. Chichester: director resigned, board told to do likewise if they wish to see their theatre open at all in 1998. Sadler's Wells: builders in residence. The Gate and the King's Head: grants slashed, likely to close in April. Greenwich: grant slashed, no longer to have any resident company. Coli- seum: English National Opera may effec- tively be closed down, in the proposed move to Covent Garden on a timeshare basis with Royal Ballet, that's if there still is a Royal Ballet.
Any other arts problems? Museum charges likely, an overall cut in the Trea- sury grant of £35 million, the British Film Institute cut by another million, National Heritage cut by £3 million and the British Library by £5 million. Official government forecasts now indicate that the arts will lose a further £50 million per year until at least 2001. Apart from that, Mrs Lincoln, how did you enjoy the show?
Given that a combination of Nero and Caligula would have been hard pressed to do more damage to the arts in Britain this year than Chris Smith and his merry butch- ers from the Treasury, it is some kind of miracle that we still have any kind of the- atre at all, let alone one as strong in both plays and productions as this has been. The invasion of new Irish plays continued to be overwhelming, but this was also the year that gave us major new work from Tom Stoppard (The Invention of Love, a tender and brilliant account of the poet A.E. Housman at Oxford and after), David Hare (Amy's View, about to transfer to the Aid- wych, a wondrous account of the loneliness of the actor from a writer who also gives us next year a new Oscar Wilde, The Judas Kiss, and a revival of his Plenty), and Patrick Marber (Closer, a Design for Living for the late Nineties in which four people find themselves unable to live apart or together).
The fact that all three of these modern classics came out of Richard Fyre's last year at the National gives some indication of the class act that Trevor Nunn now has to follow, though with the RSC still in meltdown and most other classical compa- vies shuttered for lack of funds at least he doesn't have to worry too much about the competition. In the commercial West End, it has been a year of political documen- taries more notable for performance than writing: Corin Redgrave and Amanda Donohoe as the Duke and Duchess of Windsor in murderous exile, Edward Fox as Harold Macmillan at the time of Profu- me, Michael Gambon as Tom Driberg and Alec McCowen as Clement Attlee at Yalta.
Madame Tussaud herself couldn't have had a busier season, while in revivals the per- formance of the year for me was John Standing as the semi-detached husband in Edward Albee's A Delicate Balance at the Haymarket, one he is still giving in the face of immensely tough female competition from Eileen Atkins and Maggie Smith.
Then again there were two sterling King Lears, from Ian Holm in the intimacy of the Cottesloe (Eyre again), and Alan Howard in the more classical surroundings of the Old Vic, where Peter Hall had a truly wondrous year from Felicity Kendal in Waste through to Howard and Ben Kingsley in Waiting for Godot; as I write, the rumours backstage are that Bill Ken- wright will take the Hall company into the Piccadilly for a residency, so all may not be lost on that one front at least.
As Broadway comes back to life for the first time in a decade with half a dozen major new musicals, the life seems fast to be ebbing out of them over here: after a valiant two-year fight Cameron Mackintosh has finally abandoned the struggle for Mar- tin Guerre, though I still believe its classic status will be recognised the first time any- one has the courage to revive it, and while we await one of Lloyd Webber's best and most unusual scores (Whistle Down the Wind, due into the Aldwych midsummer) there has been precious little else of note. Maddie was Coward's Blithe Spirit with songs but alas without the jokes, Always was a dire attempt to do the Abdication in Ivor Novello style, and the first-ever Lon- don staging of the Hart/Weill/Gershwin Lady in the Dark was sabotaged by a catas- trophic production. From New York also came the hugely overrated bandstand revival of Chicago and a fascinating if flawed The Fix. Not that we can afford to be smug or critical any longer as regards our musical supremacy: a Lon- don theatre which in one year managed to give us Cliff Richard as Heathcliff, Summer Holiday and The Goodbye Girl is in no state to boast.
A good year for young directors, and I haven't even the space to do more than acknowledge the greatness of Sian Phillips in a virtually solo Dietrich and Clare Skin- ner in Sam Mendes's superbly filmic Othel- lo. Oh yes, and on the night he opened a strong Front Page it was announced that his Donmar Warehouse would be losing its subsidy a year ahead of schedule due to a change of sponsor-management. At least 1998 can't get much worse; or can it?
Previous page
