will
Waspe
S41114 because the name of Jonathan Miller does not figure in any announced plans of the National Theatre, whereas it does figure in the plans of the Greenwich Theatre, it would be a mistake to leap joyously to the conclusion that the celebrated play doctor is unlikely to be frevising and reinterpreting any more classics ,or Peter Hall. He remains one of Hall's
' Battalion of ten associate directors at the National' and is evidently being encouraged e Yen to extend his range of reference. I hear triat the next project in line for him'is a version of Dickens's Bleak House — adapted, dramatised, reconstructed and, of course, directed by
drama
Dr Miller.
Connections
I thought my colleague, opera critic Rodney Milnes, was being even more than usually 'Igenuous when he inquired of the Arts
°unefl, in our correspondence columns last week in reference ot the Phoenix debacle, why the English Opera Group should not have been
Flosed down instead, "in view of autumn
to n to n ring figures only half as good as Phoenix's." .1y_lilnes would know, I am sure, that the Arts Controller of Touring, Mr Jack on the board of the Aldeburgh estival which is the English Opera Group's ca'roost sole raison d'être; not to mention the tact that Peter Pears, the star of the Group, is
the uncle of the Miss Pears who runs the Pears-Phipps artists' agency while Mr Phipps is away running the Arts Council touring organisation (sic).
On counting chickens
Speaking of the Arts Council, as I frequently do, I shall not criticise them for failing to respond favourably to applications for a grant from Hampstead's Theatre at New End. The boot here is on the other foot. What has happened at New End is that private interests actually went ahead and built this 'fringe' theatre at a cost of £130,000 in anticipation of support from public funds — surely a ludicrous example of insulated optimism in these desperate times. Even if the work so far offered at the theatre had been a great deal better than it has, in fact, been, the decision of the Arts Council — and the Camden Council and the Greater London Arts Association — not to come up with a hand-out would be entirely understandable.
Who needs critics ?
I wonder if nudie-show impresario Paul Raymond is entirely wise in deciding not to have the critics in to review the show with which he is replacing his Pyjama Tops at the Whitehall Theatre next month. True, he can say that they gave Pyjama Tops the worst reviews ever, and it still ran for six years; but they also observed, when they weren't pointing out the lies in the programme about its being a previous Broadway success, that most of the cast took their clothes off — and that, of course, accounted for the six-year run. Oh well, perhaps his own reputation will serve the same purpose for the new show, the title of which, Snatch 68, is, naturally, right over my head.
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