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Epitaph for George Dillon
By John Osborne and Anthony Creighton
Directed by Peter Gill
Designed by John Gunter
Lighting Designer Hugh Vanstone
At Apollo Shaftesbury Theatre
Shaftesbury Avenue, London NW1
Call +44 (0) 870 890 1101 Tickets £10 - £40
Tues – Sat 7.30pm; Wed & Sat Mats 2.30pm
Running time 2 hours 40 mins with intermission
Through 14 January 2006
Alive But Not Kicking
Once every generation, this early collaboration between John Osborne and Anthony Creighton, will be revived. This time it is, appropriately, by the Comedy Theatre, the 1958 home of the play’s World Premiere.
Creighton would be remembered by this play alone. John Osborne, of course, would go on to brilliant success, having burst upon the scene with Look Back in Anger in 1956, followed by much more, including his Oscar winning screenplay of Tom Jones.
The stability of the home of Mrs Elliot, which ‘the stranger in our midst’ threatens, is often referred to as ‘suffocating suburbia’, but whatever else it is, it is comfortable and a haven of predictability. The young actor who arrives, does what you might expect from a young ‘bohemian’ as they were called then. He turns their lives upside down.
A real buzz is achieved by Anne Reid, utterly inhabiting her role as Mrs Elliot. This was a beautifully drawn, syllable perfect characterisation, an object lesson by the actress in professional skill and the knowledge of her art. She held us in her palm as we anticipated rather more than she was letting the family in on, when she told them about someone she had ‘invited to stay’. The audience’s most rousing response at the curtain was deservedly saved for Miss Reid.
From the pall of gloom brought home by Francesca Annis’ Ruth Gray, to the youthful playing of Josie Elliot by Zoe Tapper, the entertaining, slightly pathetic Norah Elliot of Dorothy Atkinson, and the bellowing of an otherwise amusing Dad by Geoffrey Hutchings, there was plenty to anticipate in dropping a cat called George Dillon among the pigeons of the Elliot household.
Joseph Fiennes’ picture of George Dillon was comprised of slouching with hands in pockets, often looking out of the window (yes, there is a world out there) and generally looking bored. Where was his Will Shakespeare dynamic? This actor was not going to set this or any other stage alight. So it was lucky for him that his writing was taken up via an agent, name of Barney Evans, a suitably greasy Stephen Greif, who persuades him to inject a little soft porn into his writing, and bring home the bacon. Plenty of ruffled feathers in the Elliot home, but adjustments are made. Surprising what a bit of financial success can do.
The immaculate direction by Peter Gill, design by John Gunter, and lighting by Hugh Vanstone could only go as far as the stars allowed. I think we may have to wait for another generation to pass before the likes of Robert Stephens, the first George Dillon, are seen again, when this piece may once more ignite an audience.
Somewhat Recommended
Saul Reichlin
London correspondent
Chicago Stage Talk Radio Show
www.ChicagoCritic.com
3 November 2005
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