Imelda staunton & Bessie Carter in Mrs Warren’s Profession. Photo: Johan Persson
What is Mrs Warren’s Profession? Well, she’s a highly successful owner of brothels across Europe, sometimes called a ‘madam’. Not that the word “brothel” is mentioned once nor “prostitute”, but we know what the text is alluding to, and so did the Lord Chamberlain, the official censor back in late Victorian times. He banned George Bernard Shaw’s play and it wasn’t publicly performed in Britain until 1925.
It’s what’s known as a ‘problem play’, and the problems in society that it addresses remain relevant today. Shaw uses a conflict between mother and daughter to examine all kinds of issues- in particular, the lack of opportunity and subsequent poverty that forces women into prostitution; and the role of capitalism which sees all workers exploited.
And, in a marketing dream, Mrs Warren and her daughter are played in this production by real life mother and daughter Imelda Staunton and Bessie Carter. So before we delve any further into the play and the production, let’s address the question of whether we gained from the genetic connection. I’m going to say, ‘no.’ Of course, I don’t know what intuitive understanding the two may have, but, for me, this could have been any pairing of a great actor and an up-and-coming one. Interestingly there is little physical resemblance between them, Ms Carter being much taller and angular than her mother, which makes their characters’ similarly strong wills more of a surprise.
Imelda Staunton in Mrs Warren’s Profession. Photo: Johan Persson
Imelda Staunton was, as you might expect, phenomenally good. I can’t begin to tell you the complexity and depth she brings to the role. Her Mrs Warren speaks with that affected accent that people of working class origins often adopt when finding themselves in high society- vowels slightly stretched, a nasal tone- and it’s an accent that slips every so often when she’s stressed.
She carries herself stiffly, for the same reasons, but sometimes her shoulders drop along with her defences. She is firm and imperious, with a tight smile, but she is wary of her daughter, whose approval and understanding she craves. So she can be vulnerable, shown most in her widening eyes and loosening jaw. That’s just touching the surface of what she does, constantly offering subtle insights into her character’s feelings.
The daughter Vivie has all the benefits of being the daughter of a rich mother. She has just graduated from Oxford, is a star mathematics scholar and, while at this point society would expect her to marry, she is interested in pursuing a career. She is presented to us as a New Woman, a quasi suffragette who is not interested in such feminine traits as romance and subservience. She buries her emotions and is self contained.
There are two key scenes between mother and daughter. In the first, Mrs Warren, with whom Vivie has had minimal contact during her childhood, wants to get to know her child with the idea that they can be close and she can grow old with the support of a dutiful daughter.
She decides to explain where the wealth came from. She talks of the deprivation of her childhood and the limited choices available to poor working class women. Vivie is shocked but understanding and sympathetic. It’s a scene in which so many layers are stripped and both women, hardened by their lives, show touching emotion. It is especially a moment for Bessie Carter to shine when she reveals both trauma and compassion breaking through her normally buttoned up exterior.
Not for long. As the play progresses, Vivie discovers that the business was not a thing of the past from which her mother retired, as she assumed, but continues to thrive. A second scene is a confrontation in which both show their similarly strong will and stand their ground- Vivie idealistically deploring the immorality involved in prostitution, Mrs Warren pragmatically defending it as a way of becoming and staying rich.
Will Vivie accept the harsh realities of the world? Will Mrs Warren sacrifice her business, and thereby her status, for her daughter? I’m not going spoil any more, if you’re not familiar with the play.
Fabulous looking
Instead, let’s look at the production. I might have liked it to be less static to counter the almost constant adversarial dialogue but Dominic Cooke directs with considerable finesse. The action is moved forward a couple of decades to 1913, a time which seems less divorced from today than the late Victorian period, and the dresses from that time do look fabulous.
Bessie Carter in Mrs Warren’s Profession. Photo: Johan Persson
As does the set, also designed by Chloe Lamford. It’s far more minimalist than the naturalistic set Shaw might have intended. We start in a garden filled with a few chairs and lots of flowers. It seems everything is coming up roses. Then the flowers are removed slowly but surely by a troupe of women in period underwear, reminding us of the anonymous exploited prostitutes. At the end we are left with one bouquet of flowers dumped in a waste paper basket in Vivie’s office, dominated by a large desk and surrounded by blank grey walls.
Here’s the thing about Shaw. He may have been a socialist who wanted to write a play exposing a hypocritical society that devalued and exploited women but he didn’t simplify the problem. He created two rounded, flawed characters, who are more than ciphers.
His hero and chief protagonist Vivie is a woman obsessed with work and money, with no apparent love of life, not even theatre. It appears she considers her mother’s profession immoral, not because she has exploited women but purely because it involves sex work. On the other hand, the villain, if you like, has acted out of what to her was necessity and, from her point of view, has done her best for the daughter she loves. His genius is to turn their conflict into a complex drama, that conjures passion, sympathy, anger and laughter.
Other characters are more two dimensional. Sir George Crofts, who was an angel investor in Mrs Warren’s business and has made a fortune from it, is an arch capitalist who points out the business is no different to all the other enterprises that exploit their workers. Robert Glenister portrays brilliantly the man’s cringingly condescending attitude. The Reverend Samuel Gardner represents the hypocrisy of the Church, since he has previously used Mrs Warren’s services. I liked Kevin Doyle’s All Gas And Gaiters interpretation (that’s one for older viewers). His son Frank Gardner, played by Reuben Joseph, is a profligate looking around for a woman to marry so he can appropriate all her assets, as was the law in those days. Mr Praed, played by Sid Sagar, is an architect, but more importantly represents the aesthetes who put art and beauty above all else, including right and wrong.
So, is Mrs Warren’s Profession relevant today? The battle between world weary parents and holier-than-thou children is eternal, and we all face an internal conflict between doing the right thing and putting a meal on the table. Capitalism continues to be a dominant force, making a tiny elite very rich and, yes, bringing wealth to many, but also continuing to exploit an underclass, often these days in China as much as online order delivery drivers. Add to that, exploiting the planet. Women have gained many equality rights but continue to be discriminated against in male dominated industries. Has the hypocrisy regarding work involving sex changed? Clearly not as much as we might like to think. Just last week an male athlete was banned from the 2028 Olympics for raising money through ‘spicy’(his word) videos on OnlyFans.
So there’s plenty to chew on, and, if you’re familiar with the play, you might find a little less fat, since Dominic Cooke has made some judicious edits, which speed it up and remove some of the long-winded bits. The hour and 50 minutes without interval flies by. It certainly whetted my appetite to see more of Shaw, a great dramatist, who seems to be a bit unfashionable at the moment.
I would also like to see more of Bessie Carter. Her mother is one of our greatest stage actors, but she herself has shown in this production that she has the potential to reach that pinnacle too.
Imelda Staunton and the cast of Hello, Dolly! Photo: Manuel Harlan
It’s a legendary show from the Golden Age of Musicals. It’s one of the most successful shows of all time in terms of awards and performances. Yet (whisper it) Hello, Dolly! isn’t very good. Michael Stewart‘s book comprises a ludicrous plot and is saved only by the amusing machinations of its main character. Jerry Herman contributed hardly any memorable songs except the title number and Dolly’s other great song Before The Parade Passes By. Worse, the score also features the execrable It Only Takes A Moment.
Its greatness lies in two redeeming features: the opportunity to put on magnificent chorus numbers, like Put On Your Sunday Clothes (which I admit has a nice hook) and the title number; and providing a vehicle for a female musical star to shine. Fortunately, if a production can get those right, that’s all it needs. And this new production, directed by Dominic Cooke who was responsible for the National Theatre’s legendary Follies, does get it right.
For a start, it is a sumptuous production in the great tradition of the Golden Age. The large London Palladium stage is not only packed with people, it is filled with Rae Smith‘s set and costumes that conjure up the glamour of the end of the nineteenth century. Among its delights are a conveyor that stretches the width of the stage and creates even more movement, a full-size train that is jaw-dropping in its execution, and an enormous staircase to accommodate the arrival of Dolly for her big number.
The choreography was originally by Gower Champion, who wowed Broadway and gets a credit to this day. Bill Deamer is named as choreographer of this production, and his chorus numbers are magnificent in their scale, co-ordination and vitality. There are something like three dozen members of the company but, in case you’re wondering, there’s not much opportunity for individual brilliance on the dance floor.
Imelda Staunton in Hello, Dolly! Photo: Manuel Harlan
Then there’s the star. Carol Channing first played Dolly, the matchmaker and all-round entrepreneur, to massive acclaim. Since then, many top musical stars have added it to their cv, including Ethel Merman, Mary Martin, Pearl Bailey, Bernadette Peters and of course Barbra Streisand in the film version. Can any have bettered Imelda Staunton? I don’t see how. She has a great voice that hits the back of the circle when it needs to, but also an ability to plumb a depth of pathos you didn’t even realise was there in a potboiler song like Before The Parade Passes By. Plus she injects the whole proceedings with a level of energy that could single-handedly power the government’s new Great British Energy company.
Fans of her film and television work would probably have no idea of her ability as a singer, but she has played the Baker’s Wife in Into The Woods, Miss Adelaide in Guys And Dolls, Mrs Lovett in Sweeney Todd, Sally in Follies, Gypsy Rose in Gypsy, and now Dolly Levi. All triumphantly. Only Mame remains before she has a full house of the great musical roles for mature women.
She is supported by a strong cast but the characters don’t give them much to get their teeth into. In fact, the term ‘character’ may qualify as misinformation. Andy Nyman is an excellent actor but as Dolly’s prospective husband, the rich but miserable Horace Vandergelder, he has little to do except be irascible while his suitor draws him into her web. The same goes for Jenna Russell as Irene Molloy, Dolly’s friend who has her own romantic ambitions: she does what she does very well but she hasn’t much to do. Irene’s romantic interest Cornelius Hackl is a traditional (for which read ‘cliché’) ‘juvenile lead’, with little to do except look pretty and behave cheekily. Harry Hepple handles the role well. Their friends Minnie Fay and Barnaby Tucker are supposed to be the comical parts but remain resolutely unfunny despite the Olympian efforts of Emily Lane and Tyrone Huntley.
With due respect to all of company and creative team, the evening belongs to Imelda Staunton.
Follies at the National Theatre. Photo Johan Persson
Stephen Sondheim’s Follies is a difficult musical. To carry it off, you need an extraordinarily good cast. Fortunately the National Theatre production has one.
Imelda Staunton is now the preeminent West End musical star, certainly for the more mature roles. Her performance as Sally consolidates her reputation by offering a perfect, beautifully acted and sung portrayal of sadness and illusion. That would be joy enough but just as perfect is Janie Dee. In the role of the cynical but brittle Phyllis, her voice, her acting and her dancing reminded me that she belongs in the highest ranks of musical performers.
Dee gets the most laughs with her songs Could I Leave You? and The Story Of Lucy And Jessie. When she finally crumbles, her performance is every bit as poignant as Staunton’s, who expresses her damaged character through the songs Don’t Look At Me, Too Many Mornings and Losing My Mind.
The musical is set in 1971 in a condemned theatre where former showgirls from Weismann’s Follies, a series of Ziegfeld-style musical reviews from the inter-War years, are gathering for a reunion. Attention centres on two of the women and their husbands. We discover that both couples have relationship problems which date back to their Follies days. This is cleverly told by showing us the ‘ghosts’ of their younger selves.
Other women reveal their illusions about their lives and relive their glory moments, again accompanied by their younger selves. More top class performances include those of Josephine Barstow, Dawn Hope and Tracie Bennett.
Imelda Staunton & Janie Dee in Follies. Photo Johan Persson
Janie Dee and Imelda Staunton are magnificent
Why do I say Follies is a ‘difficult’ musical? There is very little in the way of plot. The exploration of the main characters’ unhappy present relationships and past regrets is told for a substantial part of it as a series of book or character songs.
Sondheim’s music is complex and deep with emotion but, knowing that I was watching a production that runs for two hours and ten minutes without an interval, there was a moment when I wondered whether it was ever going to move along.
Just when it seemed Follies was getting nowhere, we were treated to impressive song-and-dance numbers like Who’s That Woman and a series of pastiches of pre-war Broadway musical songs, excellently choreographed by Bill Deamer. They provided some much needed fun and spectacle.
Follies comes to a climax with Loveland, a collection of Broadway parodies in which each of the main characters sings about their ‘folly’, whether of youth or maturity.
The production, directed by Dominic Cooke, does the musical proud with its 37 strong cast and 21 piece orchestra. The large Olivier stage is used well by designer Vicki Mortimer to create the crumbling theatre complete with a flickering neon sign and, when it provides the setting for the more glitzy Broadway numbers, it gives an apt visual representation of the contrast between past and present. The space is great for the song-and-dance numbers but too big for the book songs but that is the paradox of this brilliant, broken musical.
Stephen Sondheim’s Follies runs until 3 January 2018 at the National Theatre.
A Kendall commented on my YouTube review: “The criticisms of James Goldman’s book as having little ‘plot’ are shown to be irrelevant when you have this good a production, because what it becomes is, in effect, a meditation on ageing, the death of dreams, the sense of regret, guilt and much more. That is why it draws people in so very deeply to it. And in that sense, it is to musical theatre what some of Wagner’s mature works are to opera.”
It’s a good point. Maybe we can too hung up on stories in musicals and should sometimes just enjoy the mood of the work.
