Even though the arrival of the summer, at last, means that we have to start suffering the curse of unventilated, non air-conditioned theatres again, we were at least spared one result of that yesterday: the shirt of the Evening Standard critic actually stayed on all day for the Henry VI trilogy at the Roundhouse. But that’s because it was Fiona Mountford, not Nicholas de Jongh, who was in the hot seat (in every sense).
Though Nick had reviewed the first half of the trilogy, it was Fiona who took over for the second half. (In another job share, Ian Shuttleworth was reviewing for the FT, whereas his colleague Sarah Hemming had reviewed the first half, though you’d have thought it would make sense for the same critic to review the whole experience since there are so many overlaps and parallels between them). Last summer, as in previous years, the moment the temperature went up, Nick’s shirt lost most of its buttons, as I noted here at the time; most of us stay resolutely buttoned-up yesterday, though I noticed Time Out’s Caroline McGinn sporting a shoulderless number, while Maxwell Cooter from Whatsonstage.com was wearing shorts.
In fact everyone in the audience noticed Max’s shorts, since in the middle play he was hauled onstage to act as executioner - a nice irony, of course, given that he was reviewing!
The contents of his bag were emptied as well, and as a copy of Richard III tumbled out, an actor onstage declared, “I’ve seen that, it’s shit” (words I don’t recall from the original script of Henry VI Part Two). It turned out that the bag was a plant, not his own - but at least I know that Max was for real and it was good after my experience at Maria Friedman’s show, where I turned into one of Mrs Lovett’s customers (but fortunately not into the fodder that she puts into her pies), that I reported on here yesterday to be able to watch someone else participating in this way.
Max duly wins my best performance by a critic award for yesterday. While applauding that achievement, and our own in lasting the course - the day started at 10.30am and didn’t finish till over 12 hours later, at 10.50pm - I also have some other awards to hand out.
• Best Performance by a blogger: I spotted The Guardian’s arts correspondent Charlotte Higgins actually updating her blog out on the sunny Roundhouse terrace during the lunch break between the first and second plays, and she continued to file despatches later in the day. Who can match this kind of reporting for immediacy? Though I’ve just filed a notice myself for today’s London Paper on the trilogy day, the rest of the newspaper reviews won’t arrive till tomorrow or even Friday. Of course, the interesting thing is that the reviews don’t actually count - the entire run is now sold out - but the RSC’s commitment to being reviewed anyway is commendable, and also for treating us very well indeed with drinks at each of the three intervals, a packed lunch at the first break and dinner at Belgo’s across the road between the second and third plays (which last night created a bit of a mad rush at our end of the table, since we were last to be served food even though I was literally the first to arrive!).
• Most popular lunchtime dessert: The RSC’s cheese ploughman’s lunchbox didn’t contain a dessert, but one of the best treats about going to the Roundhouse is always the chance to go to the ice cream counter at Marine Ices across the street - I had a two scoop cup of Mandarin and cappuccino - and I wasn’t the only one: I saw Michael Billington walking up the street eating his cone, and Charlie Spencer joined my guest and I on a shaded grassy verge that we’d commandeered to eat his. (Intriguing discovery: you can actually feel the rumble of the northern line on the street level there. I thought I was at the Garrick or Royal Court Theatres).
• Best snoozers: It’s an occupational hazard for audiences to drop off during such a long day, but the young men sitting front row centre during the first play made their boredom only too obvious: one was slumped forwards, his baseball cap pointing towards the floor, while his friend was slumped disaffectedly sideways. There was a more discreet bit of critical snoozing across the aisle from me at one point during the third play as well.
• Best alternative to seeing Henry VI Part Three: I’m sure he’d seen it before so didn’t need to stay, but one RSC staffer snuck off to see Celine Dion at the O2 Arena. I might have been tempted to follow, but I wasn’t asked! (And I’m glad I stayed at the Roundhouse: Part Three was the best).
• Best recovery by an actress: at one point during the third play, Katy Stephens - playing Queen Margaret - fell off the stage - but made it look like it was a dramatic choice.
• Most hardworking RSC department: the costume department’s dry cleaners, who must have to clean a lot of blood off them every night.
• Best case of mistaken identity: During the dinner break, I said hello to the guest that a colleague regularly brings with him, and she replied, “Hello, Charlie”. I’m not sure if Charlie Spencer should be flattered or appalled; but it’s almost as ridiculous as someone who came up to me at a Donmar matinee a few weeks ago to congratulate me on a recent performance - and when I protested that I don’t act, replied that she thought I was Simon Russell Beale!
• Best interval tip: Rhoda Koenig, an American critic who has been long resident in London, suggesting an impromptu way to create ice-tea, one of her native country’s best contributions to tea culture - fill a glass with ice cubes, then pour hot tea over it. It’s obvious, but it actually works!
"you’d have thought it would make sense for the same critic to review the whole experience since there are so many overlaps and parallels between them": I reviewed the first tetralogy in Stratford last summer, so have been able to write about the overall shape of the entire cycle, whilst allowing for specific developments in transfer such as, by all accounts, the slight thawing of Geoffrey Streatfeild's Hal/Henty V.