Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10
Cast: John Wark, Alexandra Guelff, Matthew Kelly, Veronica Roberts, Benjamin Chandler, David Yelland, Robert Mountford.
Almost half a century on from his death, the writing, the conscious of one of Britain’s most revered poets, not only of the 20th Century, but arguably of all time, hangs over the nation like Banquo’s Ghost at the table, accusing in many ways the country of neglecting its soul, of pursuing a course of action in which poems such as September 1st 1939 have been forgotten in their entirety, the message of W.H. Auden becoming an almost whimsy-like fascination. It is perfectly acceptable for the poet to come to hate his own creations, become embarrassed by them, shun them even, but a nation should never forget the deep riches left by the fire, singed, but never completely turned to ash.
It is to the relationship between audience and artist that seems to come under the most scrutiny, and yet those of us in the stalls and circle of the precarious life of the performer will always wonder what they perhaps made of each other, the conversations and perhaps former admiration that may have turned sour, The Habit of Art that kept driving them beyond the public gaze. It is a fascination which hits home with great feeling of love, humour and tragedy in Alan Bennett’s instinctive and passionately created imagination as a final meeting between celebrated composer Benjamin Britten and W. H. Auden sees the former friends reunited one last time in the poet’s grace and favour apartment at his Oxford College.
The literary device of the play-within-the-play has always been one in which captured properly can hold greater esteem, or at least unmatched, almost sibling rivalry, and in The Habit of Art, that device takes an even more pleasing role as the audience is granted a preview of the technicalities at work during a rehearsal, rather than actually during a main performance. It is a rare ability to think in such a manner, but then Alan Bennett’s particular style of writing lends itself to such heavy involvement with subtly and charm.
Imagined meetings, the resurrection of a ghost in the form of once-dead friendship, the love of art, and the dominance in both the men’s lives of the appreciation of the young male figure, it is a dependency that many will understand that artist’s Muse is often shrouded in possibly frowned upon, certainly gossiped over bed sheets; it is a conversation that lights up the busy stage and brings Matthew Kelly and David Yelland firmly into focus for their attention to detail as two actors in a provincial play and suddenly transforming their gift against the writer’s own battle of wits.
A production of incredible depth, one that captures the insincerity of rehearsal, of the boundaries drawn when an actor, director and writer’s own muses are at war inside the shell of the yet unseen production, it is The Habit of Art that we only see the divine finish, never the conflict before hand and one that Director Philip Franks brings to the Liverpool stage with wonderfully sculptured hand.
Ian D. Hall