During rehearsals of the original production of Tiny Alice on Broadway in 1964, Edward Albee (obituary, 19 September) had daily rows with John Gielgud over a nine-minute soliloquy spoken by Gielgud’s character, Brother Julian, just before his death. Gielgud was sure the speech was much too long – “it’s like a Beckett or Graham Greene one-act play in its own right” – but Albee refused to budge. So Gielgud duly learned it, and played it for a few performances, before it was reduced somewhat in length.
In 1998, when I interviewed Albee for my biography of Gielgud, he admitted his error: “I was word-proud in those days, and always considered I was right. When John told me he couldn’t do the speech as it stood, I said: ‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course you can.’” Albee then leaned forward close to my tape recorder, smiled, and said: “Sorry John, you were right. I just did another production in Connecticut, and we had to cut it even more. It was too fucking long. I apologise for all the fun I’ve been having at your expense.”
