LONDON TRIP REVIEWS

1997

Joey and I just returned from a trip to Europe where we celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary. Holy cow, tempus fugits, don't it? Who'd a thunk it possible? Merde, as the Frenchies say. I guess we're grown ups now. Anyway, as a part of our trip we spent four days in London, and I just had to write and share the following with you.

We had the greatest experience in London walking on a Sunday afternoon through a fairly deserted Old City of London to all the places I had read so much about and learned so well during our days in the Theatre Department at Michigan as Ph.D. candidates. To Lincoln's Inn Field, to St. Paul's, to Blackfriars, then across the Thames to Bankside, Southwark and right on in to the new Globe Theater which has literally just opened its inaugural season.

I knew the theater had been reconstructed, but had no idea that it was actually open. As we crossed over the river I could see that there was a crowd that was moving into the theater. I thought we might get a glimpse of the inside so we hustled down and walked up to the doors I had seen from the bridge which were actually the back doors. There were ushers in black tie, etc., and an elegant looking crowd milling about inside. I thought that there must be a private party of some sort going on, a fund raiser perhaps, and asked the "usher" what was "going on." It wasn't a party, it was the play just starting I was informed, and the entrance was around the other side of the building.

We then went round to the front side and walked into the lobby. The construction wasn't finished. But they were apparently open for business. No tickets were available, that performance being sold out, but some nice fellow who had an extra for a friend who didn't show up gave me the one that he couldn't use, and I started to figure out how to parlay the one into two when my wife waved to me from a second floor gallery above. She had crashed the gate like the old second-acter she is, and was in. I immediately presented my ticket and made my way through the happy throng.

A few moments later we walked out into the pit and I was transfixed. It was the Globe. Right out of Olivier's Henry V prologue. Right out of the books. Right out of all the strained imaginings of us cantankerous graduate students. Just like I always knew it would be. The stage was huge. The canopy bigger than I expected. And there were people everywhere. Standing and sitting all around. And closer than I expected. Right on top of the stage. Right on top of each other. And stranger than strange, they were performing Henry V.

The thought flashed that I was caught in some kind of time warp. "O for a muse of fire. . ." I know this speech. Before I got too far into my fantasy or the recollection of the Olivier film I realized it was raining. That and the occasional helicopter reminded one of the outdoor setting. And the actors, of course, played off this beautifully, Henry waiting patiently for a helicopter to pass and raising his eyebrows in a knowing way as he nodded to the audience. Meaning possibly, 'the French are everywhere,' or 'even Kings must suffer some inconveniences.' The crowd loved this sort of by-play. It reminded me of a summer "Mellerdrammer" crowd in the Midwest. Hissing and booing the French every time they appeared on stage, and cheering Henry and the English. What great fun!

I guess that was the super revelation. This theatre was really fun! It wasn't like any production that I'd ever seen. Or like any theatrical dynamic that I'd ever experienced. It was all so simple and such unadulterated fun. The comics (Pistol, Nym and Bardolph) were brilliantly funny. Fluellen was hysterically Welsh. The French were dandified and ridiculous. And the English traitors (Cambridge, Scroop and Grey) were despicably traitorous, and Henry and the rest of the English wonderfully brave and noble. It was a small company of 15 men playing all the parts. The men as women were so great! The boy who played Katherine stole the show.

What a wonderful theater, built only 150 yards or so from the site of the original. It's supposed to be a faithful reproduction of the one of the historical drawings. The famous etching which shows an octagon shaped, three tiered building with thatched roof, flags, cannon atop, and canopy covered stage.

I stood as a groundling for three and a half hours, much of that in the rain, and had one of the very best theatrical experiences ever. I'm including a couple of reviews to spare you more of my effusive prose. Just let me conclude by adding that I remember some wonderful cockamamie tidbit from Doc Halstead's Theater History class about a performance of Macbeth at Lincoln's Inn Fields one night shortly after the Restoration. The company or theater itself was re-opening after a burning down, when during the performance Lady Macbeth scaled the emotional heights with, "We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking place, and we'll not fail!" And with that the audience, taking the line as a cue in support of the re-emergence of the company and theatre in general in the Restoration, gave a rousing and joyous and tankard banging response. "Here! Here! We'll not fail! We will not!"

The exact same feeling ran through the Globe crowd that Sunday afternoon as I stood transfixed and watched Harry speak of St. Crispin's day. He did it very quietly and thoughtfully, in such an understated and manly way, with such grace and power and insight, that the crowd hung on his every single word. And just like the crowd at Lincoln's Inn that night, when Harry reached the emotional crescendo of the speech,

"And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered-- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England, now abed, Shall think themselves accursed they were not here; And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day;"

James Baffico, Montclair, New Jersey 1997
( jbaffico@home.com)