Still Live by Noel Coward

STILL LIFE BY NOEL COWARD, BBC 26 May 1991

• This is the original source from which Brief Encounter originated.  One of the Tonight at 8.30 series of playlets originally performed in the mid-1930s, it tells similar tale as the film yet gives more prominence to Albert, Mrs. Baggott, Beryl and Stanley. They are employees of the station who have their own marital plans in mind. Albert (Norman Rossington) is a northern cheeky chap pie with a yen for Mrs. Baggott (Joan Collins), who rules the cafeteria with a rod of iron, yet yearns for another man to sweep her off her feet, so she can marry for a third time.  She is the kind of independent woman who yearns to dominate a husband. EVentuslly she agrees when Albert presents her with an engagement ring, and promises tea “and afters” as a reward. 

Beryl (Diane Langton) and Stanley (Steve Nicholson) are the flirty types, who enjoy the pleasure of ten minutes together at the end of the day. Stanley is cheeky to Mrs Baggott, but in a very mild way.  it is clear that both are as interested in the romance of Mrs. Baggott as they are in their own affairs.

The third romance between Laura Jesson (Jane Asher) and Alec Harvey (John Alderton) is very clandestine - so clandestine that we don’t initially notice them talking in a corner of the room. Director Sydney Lotterby has done this deliberately to emphasise that the romance isn’t publicly subversive; no one would really notice from the outside that the couple are in love. The real nitty-gritty occurs in whispered comments, and eyes staring at one another, or Laura’s tendency to look away from Alec and down at her hands. When she goes outside to look at the express, and attempt suicide, no one takes any notice. It is only when she returns that Dolly Maitland (Moyra Fraser) observes her state of deshabille on her return that Dolly orders a restorative brandy.  But this is a temporary moment of solicitude; Dolly is soon prattling away, leaving Laura staring blankly at the ground.

in truth, there is almost too little detail here to understand the depth of Laura and Alec’s love-affair. They seem tremendously fond of one another, but there is something keeping them apart.  Maybe this is due to convention; in a society at the end of the war, an extra-marital affair was common, even though frowned upon in British society.  And as respectable members of middle-class society, neither Laura nor Alec can entertain the idea.

BRIEF ENCOUNTER on Radio

BRIEF ENCOUNTER ON RACIO

The story of BRIEF ENCOUNTER is so straightforward it cries out for radio adaptation.  Yet the effect on listeners can be very different from the stage version.  

This phenomenon is very evident in two versions from different historical periods - the Lux Radio Theater”s version from 1948, and the BBC World Service drama production from 1983.

The Lux Theater Version is presented in the formal associated with all American radio drama of the time; in three acts with commercial breaks as well as words from the sponsors.  Recorded live in front of an audience, with a live orchestra providing the background music, it is “event radio,” a prestigious form of drama broadcast in prime time every Sunday. The orchestra has its own score that forms a backdrop to many of the major speeches, reminding us of the prestigious nature of the production as well as setting the mood.

This version is narrated by Laura (pronounced “Lara” in this version), who is sitting in the chair at home by the fire with Fred opposite her. Fred completes the crossword puzzle, leaving Laura to reflect on the traumatic events of the previous few weeks.  Everything we hear has been filtered through her consciousness. Hence we understand far more the magnitude of what she has done (in her view, at least) and how it has changed her outlook for ever. As performed by Eileen Erskine, she comes across as an ordinary woman trying and failing to cope with extraordinary events, the kind of things she never thought would happen in a million years.  Some of them have been life-changing; others have led to indescribable humiliation.  The sequence where she escapes from the flat after Alec’s friend unexpectedly enters is particularly traumatic, with Erskine’s voice becoming particularly jerky as she recounts the event.  Alec (Van Heflin) is no real help, just telling her to “forget it” as unimportant, as her identity was not revealed.  This response demonstrates a breathtaking lack of sensitivity, as the man deprives the woman of her identity just to ensure her safety. 

From the tone of Erskine’s response, it’s clear that she would rather have had events brought out into the open: it might have adversely affected her public image, but she would have expressed her true identity in public.

This was one side of Erskine’s interpretation, the other focused on her desire to keep the family together, despite not having any passionate love for her husband. Fred was a good man, ever solicitous about his wife’s health, but completely insensitive to her feelings.  He perceived the whole incident as a tempest in a teacup, easily forgotten in the process of family life where Laura had her appointed duties of looking after the house and children.  Like Alec, he regularly protests that he loves her, but obviously doesn’t understand the complexity of her feelings.

This production spares us nothing in her description of her suffering. She talks about running the streets of the city after being discovered, knowing nothing about where she is going, but just wanting to be alone.  She ends.up sitting in the town square, the rain lightly plashing down, staring into space, not thinking about anything except her humiliation. She eventually goes home on the train with her friend Dolly Messiter, but cannot listen to a word.  The radio adaptation has Dolly prattling insensitively away in the background as Laura describes her feelings to listeners, making us painfully aware of just how insensitive other people are, even when they try to be kind. Perhaps the only way is to remain silent and to allow Laura to reflect for herself; and if she wants to talk, to listen rather than comment.

Squeezing all the emotions of BRIEF ENCOUNTER Into a forty-five minute adaptation is no easy task.  Maybe that’s one of the functions of the musical accompaniment that underpins much of the dialogue; to reduce the rawness of Laura’s plight and hence render it acceptable to mass audiences listening at 14.30 on a Sunday afternoon (or on one of the pdf recordings currently on the internet).  This is perhaps the most stark of all recordings of Coward’s play, with the two-malnutrition moment of Erskine’s silence on the train home suggesting that she might be considering suicide.

This episode might be part of a long-running anthology series, and probably very quickly rehearsed before broadcast, but the spontaneity of the performances give it the kind of edge to that even transcends the Lean movie.

The BBC version follows the movie script pretty closely, with little time given over for verbal flourishes or silences.  Cheryl Campbell is particularly concerned to mask her feelings to everyone - especially the listeners - so her performance is a little one-note.  But we should not fault the actor for this, but remind ourselves of Laura’s ordeal, and how every actress has to find a way of communicating it to audiences. If she chooses to mask her true emotions as best she can, we ought to admire her for it, rather than censure her.  

Ian Holm made rather a specialism of playing tortured souls, as he also played Crocker-Harris in THE BROWNING VERSION and Mr. Winslow in THE WINSLOW BOY, both for BBC’s Play of the Month series.  In the BRIEF ENCOUNTER for radio, he comes across as sympathetic yet imperceptible; the kind of man who loved his wife yet sees her as an unpaid servant with the responsibility of providing his dinner at the proper time, and keeping the house clean and tidy.  Without actually saying anything, the thoughts behind his ovoids are evident; Laura, you have abnegated your responsibilities as a wife and mother.  Please resume them as soon as possible.

The impossibility of love in BRIEF ENCOUNTER

This is the original David Lean film based on the Noel Coward text Still Lifw with Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson.  Johnson gives a quite remarkable performance as the suburban housewife plunged into a love-affair she never expected, and ending up born between feelings pleasure and intense guilt as a result.

The film is very much of its time, with soldiers coming into the station buffet and demanding whiskey, even though it is well past opening hours.  They amuse thermselves by insulting Mrs. Baggot (Joyce Carey) who looks after the bear.  Every emotion is kept under careful control: Mrs. Baggot affects an upper class accent, though it’s clear she is as common as nucjk.  Daisy, her waitress companion, has a playful love affair with the station porter, but both are careful to restrict their dalliancing to after hours.  Mrs. Baggot has a love-affair with station porter Stanley Holloway, but they are careful to restrict their activities to the occasional kiss or a smack on the bottom.  In the moral scheme of things, they are allowed the odd moment of outrageous behaviour, as they are from the working class.

Not so Laura and Alec.  They are firm members of the middle class, and are expected to remain respectable.  We only know the effect Alec has on Laura through the tiniest facial gestures that would be imperceptible were it not for Ronald Nedame’s camera focusing on close-ups of her face (from Alec’s point of view) during their conversations.

The morality is straightforward.  As a happily married women with.a devoted husband and two children, Laura has responsibilities, which she feels she neglects by falling in loved with Alec.  This might be perfectly justified, but it’s clear that Fred, Laura’s husband (Cyril Raymond) doesn’t’ understand her at all, and treats her as a domestic convenience to bring up the children and keep the home going, with an afternoon per week to go out shopping and visit the pictures.  He does not always understand that she is a passionate woman, dying for something or someone to lighten her life.  In this film, we know what Laura will do, but doubt whether this is the best decision for her.  When Alec departs for South Africa, the affair will of necessity come to an end, leaving her with memories of frustration and heartache.  Maybe it takes a homosexual to understand these feelings more closely than his heterosexual contemporaries.

The contrast between Laura and Mrs. Baggot is evident.  As a ‘mere’ bartender she is permitted the odd expression of love for true station porter, with perhaps the odd bit of slap and tickle.  By contrast Laura has to bottle up her feelings, or let them out on her own in the street as she goes to the station.  Coward stages at least two sequences where the lovers are interrupted: in one, Alec’s flatmate unexpectedly returns home.  Laura manages to get out unseen, but the flatmate confesses that he is unimpressed with Alec’s behaviour.  Maybe the two of them should have shared a joke.  In the second interruption, Laura and Alec’s final conversation is interrupted.by Laura’s friend Dolly, who shows spectacular insensitivity by talking incessantly and not noticing the lovers’ desire for her to go.  Dolly’s reaction sums up the general expectation: women such as Laura are not expected to have love-affairs, and hence their friends continue on their merry way as if nothing had happened.

The two lovers’ characters are finely distinguished.  Despite his protestations  of love for wife and family, Alec always wants more.  He keeps telling Laura how much he loves her, and initiates the idea of spending some time alone at his flatmates.  Maybe he is trying his luck a bit, especially since he does not appear to listen to Laura’s doubts.  Undoubtedly attractive - especially to Laura - he claims that he will never forget her, even in South Africa, but we wonder whether this is a cliche designed to placate her.  Laura, on the other hand, is far more cautious.  She never comes out direct with the phrase “I love you” and although communicating her true feelings in the voiceover that spans the entire narrative (which communicates what she would like to say to Fred, but cannot summon up the courage to do so), she remains taciturn to Alec, even while embracing him.  She accepts his advances, but makes little comment herself.

Seventy years on, we have to take the story as a period-piece, but still Johnson’s performance is astonishing, as she shares her agonies with us, and undergoes much the same emotions as we do if we happen to fall for someone not our wives.  It proves the oft-told dictum that times might change, but people’s reactions don’t.  This is s film about real people in real situations, situations that occur throughout time.

Patriarchalism in BLITLE SPIRIT (New York, 1947)

The US Steel-sponsored revival of BLITHE SPIRIT was first broadcast in 1947, and starred Clifton Webb and Mildred Natwick from the original Broadway production. To those familiar with the original play, there were some significant textual Alterations in this revival.  It began with Webb addressing the audience direct, ostensibly from the ship of a steamer taking him to New York.  He had escaped from both his wives, and was now going to tell the entire story.  Unlike the David Lean film from 1945, Charles survived at the end to life a wife-free existence, suggesting that the cause of women’s rights was far from the author’s mind.  Or maybe the male survivor was something that US producers considered more acceptable to audiences.

In fact, Charles had a relatively easy time in this revival.  He escaped being killed by Elvira, and avoided the indignity of a sprained arm due to falling down the stairs.  The maid Daisy - renamed for this production got concussion from falling down the stairs, but Charles listened to Ruth for once, and escaped punishment.  He lived to continue telling the tale.

The production had other changes.  Madame Arcati was not only a medium but worked with the Girl Guides, so as to make it seem as if she wasn’t wasting her time. She was also a basketball referee, a somewhat curious profession, given that basketball was probably seldom played by British Girl Guldes In the 1940s. Netball, yes: but not basketball.  This attempt to Americanise the text a little, so as to make Madame Arcati more normal didn’t appear to jar, even though it might have been slightly inaccurate.

The production made slight textual economies, which conjured up fascinating images.  Charles and Elvira’s lovers were reasssigned; now they were Dr. and Mrs. Bradman.  This gave the seance a sexual angle completely foreign to Coward’s text; in alternative circumstances the participants might have paired off and had some extra entertainment, so to speak.

But that might have been too much, especially following the scene between Charles and Elvira, which was full of heavy breathing and suppressed eroticism as Elvira seduced her late husband.  It was evident that he preferred Elvira to Ruth as he spent the night on the sofa having his head caressed by Elvira.  In fact, Charles didn’t emerge from this production with too much credit, as he ended up intellectually unscathed, sailing to New York to begin a new life which would probably be as complicated as his old life.  

This evident conservatism might have been imposed by the sponsors, fearful of a too radical content. Or perhaps the Theatre Guild built the production around Clifton Webb’s rather sexless screen and stage persona.  He appreciated flirting but nothing more; especially from women.  He was someone pursuing his own life on his own terms, and his wives would have to agree to it, or else leave. This created another contradiction; at one point Ruth observed how Charles was easily manipulated by women,and that his assertions of authority were purely bogus.  But that was not the impression cast by Webb’s characterisation, which put him in position of authority. Perhaps this strategy was deliberate, to show that Charles, Ruth and Elvira had different views of Charles’s character, that significantly influenced their behaviour.  the arguments between them were aggressively handled in this production, with few soft voices and lots of aggression.

Recorded in front of a live audience, this production generated a fair proportion of laughs, thereby vindicating its popularity.  Perhaps it was of its time, in its reassertion of male authority at thread, but it revealed how the text could be slightly rearranged at no cost to its overall effect. In a sense it is actor- and director-proof.

Blithe Spirit and Gender Relations

Broadcast in NBC’s  BEST PLAYS on 31 August 1952, this is a pared down (1 hour) version produced in an anthology series curated by theatre critic John Chapman.  the cast included John Loder, sometime film actor and socialite, Mildred Nateick, who played Madame Arcadia on Broadway, plus Halil Stoddard and Anna Barr.  The production was directed by Edward King, with a live studio orchestra.

There are a couple of quirks, especially for a British audience.  Charles Condomine’s surname is pronounced “condomine,” with the last syllable rhyming with the English word “mine”. And on at least two occasions Madame Arcati’s name comes out as “Archaty”.  I am not censoring anyone, but it does prove slightly disturbing when you’ve grown up with a play using certain pronunciations.

Often dismissed as just a farce, a piece of whimsy designed to take audience’s minds off the rigours of the War when it premiered in 1941, and since then venerated as providing a delicious role for an elderly actor such as Margaret Rutherford, Peggy Mount, or Hermione Baddeley.  Yet the play has more to say about marriage and how it affects different people.  This is what King’s production explored.  Initially it seems that Charles (Loder) dominates the proceedings, as he invites Madame Arcati for the purpose of researching his latest thriller. She bridles at the suggestion that she can “pass on a few tips” rather than undertake a serious job of work.

As the drama unfolds, so Charles los3s control over the proceedings.  Once Elvira materialises, the dialogue becomes extremely erotic, with Charles and Elvira exchanging sexual innuendo without actually saying anything remotely obscene, while Ruth, unable to see Elvira, remains on the outside, an increasingly irate presence.  Whether the eroticism has been initiated by Elvira is not defined, but it’s clear that neither Charles nor Elvira has control over what they say.  The eroticism just emerges.

This aspect of the production illuminates a fascinating contradiction. Charles organises the evening for s specific purpose, and throughout he and the Bradmans remain eminently reasonable.  On Elvira’s entrance, however, we begin to doubt whether anything that happens is reasonable or not; and does it matter, anyway? Why shouldn’t people occasionally give in to erotic impulses, even if they have no idea where they will end up? In BLITHD SPIRIT everything remains verbally quite polite, but this production suggests that things might be happening in adjoining rooms that we are denied any knowledge of.

The satire of marriage increases as the play unfolds, with Charles and Elvira confessing their various dalliances in the past, even while protesting their faithfulness at the same time. We might speculate about the nature of such affairs, but there’s no need to; the fact that Charles and Elvira willingly discuss their affairs with each other suggests a love of bickering, not serious infidelity.

The ending is deliciously handled.  Charles’ sense of self-confidence increases as the two women are spirited away, and he resolved to leave the cottage.  However the rumbles and the smashing of China accompanying his final speech suggests that they haven’t gone away at all.  They may no longer be corporeality visible, but their presence is still very much around.

Interestingly, this production omits the final final moments, when Charles gets into his car and drives off, only to come to a sticky end on the nearby bridge. The 1945 film has him joining his wives in eternity as his car crashes.  This American production leaves him alive while the two women are dead. Perhaps King wanted to restore the sexual status quo to placate his listeners, but this strategy fails to convince.  The fact that he is plagued with his ex-wives’ presence suggests that any pretence towards authority is purely illusory.

The Winslow Boy and the #metoo Movement

The Winslow Boy might appear to be one of the most historically specific of Rattigan’s plays. Set just before the outbreak of the First World War, it focuses on the individual’s right to challenge government institutions and persuade them to change their policies, even if the decision has to be ultimately made in the House of Commons.

As is common, however, there is more to Rattigan than meets the eye.  David Giles’s 1977version for the BBC’s PLAY OF THE MONTH strand reminded us of a time when the television companies produced material focusing on the actors, not on extraneous aspects of the mise en scene, to produce genuinely thought-provoking work.  initially this production seemed quite straightforward: with Alan Badel playing the advocate Sir Robert Morton, it seemed as if he might dominate the action with a performance combining authority with a genuine enthusiasm for right to prevail.  but this turned out not to be true: the star of this production was.Michele Dotrice as Kate Winslow, the daughter who passes up a socially advantageous marriage to fight for her brother’s innocence.  Her face remained largely expressionless, but her determination could be seen in the way she tensed her muscles whenever a big decision had to be made, and her refusal to change a decision once it had been made.  

The magnitude of what Kate did must not be underestimated.  The entire first half of the play centres on her engagement to military man John Watherstone (David Robb), with all the rituals of John obtaining permission from Kate’s father (Eric Porter), followed by the ritualistic celebrations with a glass of Sherry. But Kate refuses this life of prosperity in favour of principle: her brother is innocent, and she must fight for it.  John tries to persuade her to give it up, so as to secure his father’s money, but he does not understand the depth of her feelings. It’s not just family loyalty, it’s about retaining the individual right to challenge bureaucracies. Kate supports the nascent feminist movement, and will continue working with it, in spite of the minimal financial rewards.

Director Giles directs out attention to Kate in the play’s two major exchanges: the first with John, when she turns him down despite his offer of a secure life: and in the final exchange with Sir Robert Morton, where she admits to understanding his ambition as well as his quirks of character while in legal practice.  In a world that routinely believed that men are the workers and women are there to serve men, Kate’s refusal to be cowed stands out.  Her father, a crippled man who nearly bankrupts the family to win the case, relies upon her - as he admits in an exchange towards the end, as the two o the reflects on what they have achieved.

The production might be forty years old, but it has much to tell us, especially at a time when women are fighting the patriarchy and expressing their refusal to be cowed by male power.  Kate would be a valuable member of the #metoo movement in her convictions as well as in her willingness to fight battles on behalf of her sex as well as her family..  This production proves how Rattigan’s dramas are about more than they appear to be, and how their themes transcend the specifiicities of their situations.

The Deep Blue Sea on Television 1994

This 1994 production of the Rattigan classic stars Penelope Wilton, who had recently played the role onstage, and Colin Firth in a pre-big British film star role.  Seeng this immediately after the 1955 classic, I was struck by the difference in performances of the two leading roles. In 1955 Leigh was the put-upon lover enjoying the good things in life but opting rather daringly to ditch her comfortable life and her lover and pursue an independent existence instead. It was a brave move for such an emotional woman, but one she had to take. By contrast Wilton knew her own mind exactly and what she wanted from life.Freddie was a nice boy -and presumably good in bed - but he was out her league emotionally. She entertained the idea of accompanying him to South America, but rejected it on the grounds of practicality.  Freddie was interpreted as a callow youth way out of his depth; he could cope with the superficialities of male tap-room chat, but had no way of dealing with Hester.

This was a much harder production of THE DEEP BLUE SEA, concentrating on Hester’s life- choices. The suicide at the beginning was read as a cry for help: Hester did not want to die, but needed a shoulder to cry on. This was provided by the doctor, whose recall of his war experiences put Hester’s struggles into perspective. In the first part of the production she looked for succour from a host of males, including her husband.  But things changed as time developed, as she acquired a hard edge to her dialogue.  This was a woman acknowledging she had been through life’s knocks, and wasn’t going to accept anything she didn’t want. She despatched Freddy, kitbag and all, and firmly informed her husband (who remained remarkably deficient in self-awareness or an understanding of his wife’s feelings.  Those viewers who want to know will be interested to know that the Judge was played by Ian Holm, who also played the tormented schoolteacher in THE BROWNING VERSION. Now he was playing a role of an authority-figure unable to understand his wife’s suffering. 

The design was very much mid50s dowdy,reflecting the world of genteel poverty into which Hester had sunk.  But the performances were defiantly up to date, reflecting an uncaring early 1980s world where the bourgeois are purely concerned with respectability, and the feckless middle class care only for sexual gratification. The only solution is to strike out on one’s own