Ken Stott and Reece Shearsmith star as Sir and Norman in Ronald Harwood’s celebrated 1980 play, which remains one of the best in the repertory about the bruising reality of backstage life. They acquit themselves well but, given that only last year it enjoyed a superb television production with Anthony Hopkins and Ian McKellen, I don’t quite see why it has been revived so soon.
Watching the play again, what strikes me is Harwood’s equivocal attitude to his two main characters. You can see Sir, about to give his 227th Lear in a threadbare touring production at the height of wartime air-raids, as a symbol of the pluck and endurance of old-style Shakespearean actors: at the same time, Harwood shows the character to be vain, deluded, petty and something of an old groper. Similarly Sir’s longtime dresser, Norman, can be viewed as the embodiment of constancy, coaxing a crumbling star back on to the stage, or as a bitchily proprietorial figure resentful of his subservience.
I suspect this says something about Harwood’s own ambivalence towards the world he portrays. On the one hand, he delights in old theatrical stories such as Sir’s dismissal of a rival’s Lear with, “I was pleasantly disappointed” and his instruction to a fellow actor that “you must find what light you can”. But Harwood, who spent five years on the road with Sir Donald Wolfit, paints a chillingly authentic picture of cold suppers in cheerless digs and of endless travel on Sunday trains. The play is less a love letter to theatre than a reminder of the grottiness behind the greasepaint.
Its great virtue is that it provides actors with two succulent lead roles. Stott certainly captures Sir’s blend of physical disintegration and professional survival: first seen sobbing uncontrollably at his dressing room table, his eyes acquire a fitful gleam at the magic words “full house”. Stott, who has something of the earthiness of Leo McKern, also embodies the durability of the old pro who knows how to use a stentorian voice to outdo thunder sheets and wind machines. But, while Stott is very good at conveying the contradictions of Harwood’s falling star, his performance will be even better when it makes the gear changes less visible.
Shearsmith, as he proved when playing the executioner’s mate in Martin McDonagh’s Hangmen, is adept at portraying the creepiness of life’s second fiddles, and his Norman is already spot-on: dapper, busy, waspish and seething with love-hate towards the actor on whom he totally depends. Even if the joke about the need for a light Cordelia is overdone, Harriet Thorpe invests Sir’s long-suffering partner, Her Ladyship, with a mix of majesty and clear-sightedness, and Selina Cadell is the epitome of the briskly sensible stage manager.
Sean Foley’s production has more than a touch of Noises Off in its evocation of the ordered chaos of backstage life and the evening passes pleasantly enough. But, if the intention is to honour Harwood’s distinguished 50 years in the business, I feel the producers could have dipped more daringly into his extensive back catalogue.
• At the Duke of York’s, London, until 14 January. Box office: 0844 871 7627.
