Singin' in the Rain- a production review and some general thoughts

 

Singin' in the Rain at Milton Keynes Theatre

 When it comes to musicals, my two favourite shows inhabit opposite ends of the spectrum regarding content. West Side Story is a gritty tragedy despite its dance routines and occasional lighter moments (Officer Krupke anyone?), whilst Singing In The Rain is a joyous celebration of the business of entertainment. Both have a romance at the heart of the story, but only one has a happy ending.

 I recently enjoyed Steven Speilberg’s re-make of West Side Story, which resisted the temptation to update the locale or the ethnic make-up of its protagonists whilst delivering even more light and shade than the original. Essentially a modern take on Romeo and Juliet, its portrayal of the difficulties of growing up and leaving youthful recklessness behind was played out in a locale where tradition was being overtaken by modernity, leaving the local inhabitants marginalised. This provided context to the gang rivalry, showing the insecurity behind the bravado, whilst the building sites that were physically transforming the landscape were the perfect backdrop to the Sharks and Jets stand-offs.

 As for Singing in the Rain, I recently caught the stage show at Milton Keynes Theatre. The original 1952 film had a degree of staginess about it, with enclosed locations (the movie lot, the producer’s office and a narrow street), so it proved to be easily transferrable to the stage. This production has something the film to some extent lacked; namely some electrifying group routines featuring the majority of the cast, including the opening and closing scenes. The ensemble cast were excellent, with energy to spare, and some great choreography that set a scene story through complex interlocking moves and shapes. Nowhere was this more effective than the closing routine which deployed coloured umbrellas and suits to great effect. I for one thought it simply joyous.

 The main protagonists, Kathy and Don, with support from Cosmo and Lina,  were portrayed with brio and degrees of subtlety. The age difference between Debbie Reynolds and Gene Kelly in the original tends to grate on modern audiences. The pair in this production seem more of an age and manage to spark chemistry from the outset (when they both affect to despise each other even as they feel the mutual attraction). The odd man out, Cosmo, plays his part as wisecracking sidekick well, whilst also portraying a degree of pathos when forced to play gooseberry as the other two become lovers, that hints at the sadness behind the mask of the funny man.

 The other main character is Lina Lamont, tricky to play as she is the obstacle to Kathy’s advancement and an obvious figure of fun. In this production she is also witty, sexy and spirited, which adds to the story’s depth. After the first half of the show has ended on the high of the title song, complete with an actual downpour, she injects some mild jeopardy into the others plans by consulting a lawyer and challenging their plans to side-line her. Her spirited fightback has the audience warming to her and showing appreciation of her solo number.

 On the night we were there (the first night at Milton Keynes) I sensed some initial nervousness, but it soon wore off as the cast got into their stride. The classic set-piece songs were well delivered, with the routine for Moses Supposes very inventive and Good Morning transposed to the street. The integration of a street bench into that routine reminded me that many of the dance moves were familiar from Strictly come Dancing.

This production also brought out the strengths of Singing in the Rain. For all that the film dates from 1952 it is a post-modern tale. Filmed in 1952 about the roaring ‘20’s, the time travel element is enhanced when watching it in 2022. It is also very knowing. The use of the radio presenter/gossip columnist to narrate parts of the action is clever, and was innovative in 1952.. This production makes use of the presenter to address the audience directly, something that creates an immediate connection in a show, even better than an aside to camera. In the years following the film, the Radio voice as narrator turns up in some very different films such as 1979’s The Warriors, where a New York gang face a violent journey back to their home turf after being framed at a gang happening, and Vanishing Point, where a radio DJ follows a lone anti-hero’s progress as he is chased by police.

 The scene featuring Gotta Dance, which brings to life Cosmo’s suggestions to the producer to introduce a fantasy sequence linking the present to Eighteenth Century France, is breathtakingly post-modern and mirrors montage scenes in many other films over the years. On stage the routine made good use of lighting and dry ice to weave its magic and carry the audience along. 

 Throughout the show the device of exposing of the nuts and bolts of making a film/putting on a show has parallels in films such as 42nd  Street and ultimately harks back to the play within a play device of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Nowhere is this shown to better effect than when Don takes Kathy to a deserted studio and introduces each element of artifice; the backdrop, the music, lighting, and wind to set the scene for his wooing. 

So, the key question? did I enjoy it? Yes, immensely, all the more so in the light of the enforced closure of theatres during the Pandemic. After the curtain call,  the most iconic scene of all, the title song, was reprised in yet another downpour on the stage, with the lead trio generously sharing the deluge with the front row. As I said, simply Joyous! Although the run at Milton Keynes is over, the show is touring the country, including Nottingham, Bradford and Birmingham. I would certainly recommend it. 

Book Review: The White Ship by Charles Spencer

The White Ship, by Charles Spencer (William Collins 2011) tells the story of a shipwreck outside Barfleur Harbour in 1120. The significance of this event lay in the identity of the ship’s passengers. These included William Atheling, the heir to Henry 1 of England, as well as a large number of young men who were either titled or the heirs to titles in both England and Normandy.

This is a history book then, but narrated as a story as much as a historical enquiry, which makes it very readable. All the more so since the story concerns a relatively small number of people; the top layers of society in the feudal states of England, Normandy and the various states that made up the territory we today call France. Troublesome uncles, supportive aunts, fractious siblings and family black sheep vie for attention on its pages so that at times it reads like one of those doorstop family sagas. Grudges are nurtured and revenges taken as families vie for supremacy.

All this drama is however underpinned by a bedrock of thoroughly researched history, which frequently references contemporary chroniclers. These include William of Malmesbury, Henry of Huntingdon, Walter Map, Orderic Vitalis and Robert Wace. This list of names raises the question of the target audience for the book.

Those medieval historians are familiar names to professional historians and to well-read amateurs. For a lot of people though, 1066 and the battle of Hastings is as much as they know. The satirical history 1066 and all that gives 1066 as one of only two memorable dates in English history, the other being 55 BC when Julius visited Britain. Of the century leading up to Hastings only Canute’s vain attempt to hold back the sea stands out as being part of the folk memory, whilst in the century following William Rufus coming to an unfortunate end in the New Forest also stands on its own.

 

The sheer level of historical detail covered by Spencer could be considered too overwhelming to the casual reader, were it not for the fact that he spins such an entertaining tale. To do so he creates a very clear structure for the narrative. The sinking of the White Ship, which Spencer argues deserves more recognition as a key event in our history, comes in the middle of his story. First, he takes us on a whistle stop tour of the history of Normandy, from its founding in 911 by Rolf the Ganger, which provides context for the Norman invasion of England. Spencer helps the reader understand that the Conquerors heirs very much still saw themselves as rulers of the Duchy of Normandy with continental aspirations as well as insular ones.

 After a detailed explanation of the sinking of the Blanche Nef (White Ship) we are guided through its messy consequences, chiefly the Civil war between Henry I daughter Matilda and his nephew Stephen, until we reach a resolution of sorts with the beginning of the reign of Henry II.

 This passage through two and a half centuries of history can sometimes be bewildering. When I talked of a relatively small group of people at the top of society, this still runs to a cast of up to a hundred characters. Spencer keeps on track by not losing sight of the strategic big picture. At the same time, the small details often surprise and entertain.

My favourite example of this concerns the aftermath of the battle of Tinchebrai in 1106. Henry had been made king of England after the death of William Rufus, his brother. The oldest sibling of William the Conquerors children, Robert, had been made Duke of Normandy by William, but still harboured ambitions of ruling England. In 1106 Henry had crossed the channel to confront Robert, meeting him in battle at Tinchebrai. The strategic build-up and outcome of the battle are well described. But Spencer also gives us this little nugget; among the captured knights was a certain Edgar the Atheling. Edgar belonged to the West Saxon ruling family. After Harold Godwinson’s death at Hastings, the Witan, the council leading English nobles, had declared Edgar, then a teenager, as king. But a week later, when William arrived in London, Edgar, lacking an army to back him up, stepped aside and went into exile. Forty years later, there he was at at Tinchebrai, surrendering to Henry, whose wife was Edgar’s niece.

 This tantalising glimpse of a single thread is typical of the book, hinting at a story that would bear investigation. There are so many individuals whose stories deserve a book of their own who have walk-on parts in the central story of the family of William of Normandy. Robert De Belleme, for example, is the quintessential Norman bad guy, the Sherriff of Nottingham on steroids, who would make a perfect blockbuster villain. Violent, scheming, a born survivor, he leaps off the page. He would also be right at home in the Westeros of George Martin’s Fire and Ice series, which both as books and as  TV series, have become part of the pop culture of the last decade. When they first became popular initial comparisons were made with the Wars of the Roses to describe the set-up of Noble Houses vying to control the throne. In truth though, the two centuries following the Norman Conquest make a much better template for the society and the way of warfare of the Game of Thrones universe.

It is no co-incidence that the first book in Martin’s series  opens with a jousting tournament. Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe, set in the first decade of the thirteenth century, does exactly the same, for the same reason, to introduce the cast of characters. The White Ship will undoubtedly appeal to Game of Thrones aficionados. There is another literary connection we can make. Ellis Peters Chronicles of Brother Cadfael, the herbalist monk of Shrewsbury Abbey who has a sideline solving murders, is set during the Civil war described in the final third of the White Ship. This book would be instructive for Cadfael fans, who through these books are familiar with Stephen’s siege of Shrewsbury (One Corpse too many) and defeat and capture at Lincoln (Dead Mans' Ransom). Cadfael himself is an ex-crusader who fought in the army of Robert of Normandy in the Holy Land. He understands the chivalric demands of fealty to a chosen Lord and does his best to be even-handed in his treatment of protagonists on both sides. His confidant though is Hugh Beringer, who is very much King Stephens man and opposed to the Empress Matilda. We inevitably get a more sympathetic portrait of the King than of Matilda.

 

Spencer goes a long way to redressing this. In particular, he is at pains to argue that the many criticisms of Matilda, voiced at length in the Cadfael novels, are of traits that would be considered virtues in a male protagonist. That is another strength of Spencer in this book. He is describing a world which was very much male, given the warrior ethos of the ruling classes. However, even in that world some women managed to carve out a space for themselves. In addition to Matilda there is Stephen’s Queen, Mathilde of Boulogne, who keeps his cause alive even when he is captured at Lincoln and imprisoned in Bristol. There is also, right at the beginning of the story, Emma of Normandy, daughter of the Duke, who is married to Ethelred, king of England, and then, after the death of Ethelred and his heir Edmund Ironside, to Canute, the Danish conqueror. Both of her sons by Canute become king of England. Emma is a fascinating character who influences English History for two generations. Royal women may have been deployed as pawns in the strategic chess game, but the strong-minded ones, like Emma and Matilda, often wrote their own rules.

 As a keen amateur historian I was aware of many of the events in this book, but it made me realise there was much more to learn. For instance, I had always thought that Robert, as Duke William’s eldest son, had inherited Normandy through seniority and was content with that. The White Ship made me realise it wasn’t as simple. The strife with his brothers may have influenced Henry to be happy with having a single male heir, which turned out not be good for England after the death of William Atheling. The competition between Robert, William Rufus and Henry also foreshadowed that between the children of Matilda’s son Henry, who eventually ruled as Henry II of England. Richard the Lionheart and John Lackland would be another set of battling brothers, but that is another story………..