Ragged socialism in rich Chichester
There are moments as a reviewer when you need to step back from what you're looking at and consider the context. And a hot, sunny afternoon in well-heeled Chichester, watching a new adaptation of Robert Tressell's The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist provides one of those moments.
The book is a masterpiece, an at least partly autobiographical story about the class struggle, the quest for craftsmanship under capitalism and the rise of socialist thinking. It's an odd thing to be watching with a very upper middle class matinee audience.
Adapting for the stage what is essentially a radical political manifesto will never be easy, but on the whole Howard Brenton has done a good job. And of course, the clash of culture between today's audience and the play itself show exactly why it is still relevant. Over a hundred years after the working-class housepainter finished writing the novel, the famous 'Money Trick' he explains is still relevant. But despite that relevance it's not a good start. Our play opens and ends in the present day, with a couple viewing a battered house with an estate agent. Sadly, this top and tail adds nothing to the plot, and the wooden characters jar with the well-rounded working men in the main body of the play. It does, however, give Simon Higlett's amazing set a chance to shine.
The main body of the play, however, is a delight – dirty, angry, bloody and rough when it needs to be, largely thanks to a brooding performance by Finbar Lynch. He plays Frank Owen, a radical among a group of house-painters restoring a house in the late nineteenth century. He believes, as do his fellow workers, that they should be able to do the best job possible. They want to be 'worker, craftsman and artist all in one', says Owen. This is nothing mystical, though – Owen explains to a younger colleague that 'it's not clever. It's a skill – you can learn it'.
Sadly the owner of their company Mr George Rushton believes in profit above craft, and is aided by vicious foreman Dennis Hunter, played with dark menace by Des McAleer. Of course, even he's not safe, with Nicolas Tenant's Bob Crass willing to do what it takes to usurp Hunter and take the foreman's bowler hat crown. And of course weaker workers like Old Joe Philpot (Larry Dann) are always going to struggle in a competitive market.
As well as watching the housepainters at work, we see young Will Easton at home. He's desperate to keep in with both his foreman and his wife Ruth, played by a young Laura Rees. Sadly she's struggling with a script that doesn't give her much more than a cliched weak woman. A stark contrast to her friend and Owen's wife Nora, beautifully portrayed as a woman ahead of her time by Louise Bush.
Alongside the work at the house, we see the fat cat capitalists at the town council, portrayed by the same actors in masks. The initial transformation is handled well, the actors changed before our eyes. However, this bigger story of a town council, run by a greedy clique, is less developed and could almost be dispensed with. The characters cartoon names don't help – Didlum, Sweater and Slyme.
It's the working-class housepainters who are believeable, sympathetic and relevant. It's their story that touches. And it's their struggle which, after a hundred years and in the depths of a recession, is still worth watching.
The book is a masterpiece, an at least partly autobiographical story about the class struggle, the quest for craftsmanship under capitalism and the rise of socialist thinking. It's an odd thing to be watching with a very upper middle class matinee audience.
Adapting for the stage what is essentially a radical political manifesto will never be easy, but on the whole Howard Brenton has done a good job. And of course, the clash of culture between today's audience and the play itself show exactly why it is still relevant. Over a hundred years after the working-class housepainter finished writing the novel, the famous 'Money Trick' he explains is still relevant. But despite that relevance it's not a good start. Our play opens and ends in the present day, with a couple viewing a battered house with an estate agent. Sadly, this top and tail adds nothing to the plot, and the wooden characters jar with the well-rounded working men in the main body of the play. It does, however, give Simon Higlett's amazing set a chance to shine.
The main body of the play, however, is a delight – dirty, angry, bloody and rough when it needs to be, largely thanks to a brooding performance by Finbar Lynch. He plays Frank Owen, a radical among a group of house-painters restoring a house in the late nineteenth century. He believes, as do his fellow workers, that they should be able to do the best job possible. They want to be 'worker, craftsman and artist all in one', says Owen. This is nothing mystical, though – Owen explains to a younger colleague that 'it's not clever. It's a skill – you can learn it'.
Sadly the owner of their company Mr George Rushton believes in profit above craft, and is aided by vicious foreman Dennis Hunter, played with dark menace by Des McAleer. Of course, even he's not safe, with Nicolas Tenant's Bob Crass willing to do what it takes to usurp Hunter and take the foreman's bowler hat crown. And of course weaker workers like Old Joe Philpot (Larry Dann) are always going to struggle in a competitive market.
As well as watching the housepainters at work, we see young Will Easton at home. He's desperate to keep in with both his foreman and his wife Ruth, played by a young Laura Rees. Sadly she's struggling with a script that doesn't give her much more than a cliched weak woman. A stark contrast to her friend and Owen's wife Nora, beautifully portrayed as a woman ahead of her time by Louise Bush.
Alongside the work at the house, we see the fat cat capitalists at the town council, portrayed by the same actors in masks. The initial transformation is handled well, the actors changed before our eyes. However, this bigger story of a town council, run by a greedy clique, is less developed and could almost be dispensed with. The characters cartoon names don't help – Didlum, Sweater and Slyme.
It's the working-class housepainters who are believeable, sympathetic and relevant. It's their story that touches. And it's their struggle which, after a hundred years and in the depths of a recession, is still worth watching.