was to say no when Trevor asked me, but then he talked me into it. Terry Hands was directing, and I think I drove him mad, but I couldn’t do it, I never want to see it again, I wouldn’t cross the road to see it, it is the only play of Shakespeare’s I really dislike. Emrys James was playing Shylock, and there was rather an antagonism between us. Terry got very cross with me when we were rehearsing the scene with the knife. Antonio bared his chest and Shylock raised the knife, and I had to say, ‘Tarry, Jew.’ Whenever I said it, Terry would tell me, ‘Don’t say it yet.’
I had to wait until his hand was actually coming down to Antonio’s chest, and I thought that was false. At one point Terry sent everyone else out of the rehearsal room and jumped up on to a table, he was so cross; I will never forget it. He said, ‘You’re not to be unkind to Emrys, his father was a miner.’ I wasn’t being unkind, I was trying to make sense of the scene. She would never have left it that long, she would have died of fright. How could she leave it until the knife was actually coming down on him? In one of the notices I was criticised for being self-indulgent, waiting for that moment.
Nothing went right. I had this idea of a wig for Portia with lots of curls, and John Neville came one night, I had not seen him for years, and he knocked at my dressing room, put his head round the door and just said, ‘Hello, Bubbles,’ that was all he said, and quite right too. But the worst moment happened onstage. Michael was playing Bassanio, and I had a speech to him in the Caskets scene:
‘I speak too long; but ’tis to peize the time,
To eke it, and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election.’
One night I said instead: ‘…to stay you from erection.’ Well, the Wind Band stopped playing and left the stage, my brother Jeffery with Bernard Lloyd and Peter Geddis all left – nobody could stay. And I laughed. Poor Michael had a speech coming up, I have never seen him use his hands so much, and turn his back to the audience; it was terrible.
Michael and I played brother and sister in The Duchess of Malfi ; he was Duke Ferdinand and I was the doomed Duchess. It is a difficult play, but I loved it. I kept thinking of that famous picture of Peggy Ashcroft as the Duchess eating the apricots, and it was thrilling to play. It was, though, very difficult to learn, and in fact I can’t remember a single line from it, which is unusual for me. Clifford Williams was in charge of the production again and he made the most of it, though the notices were mixed for all of us.
By complete contrast, the Christmas play for children was Toad of Toad Hall , in which I played three parts – Mother Rabbit, First Fieldmouse and a Brave Stoat. Michael was Mole, Jeffery was Rat, Peter Woodthorpe was Toad, and Tony Church was Badger. So many of the children wanted to come round to see us, and I remembered my disappointment as a child when I did that. My family were all great fans of Gilbert and Sullivan, and when the touring company came to York two of the cast would always stay in our house. The girls said I had to go round afterwards, and I didn’t know what that meant. The man who played Nanky Poo had a lovely voice, and a wonderful shock of black hair. When I went round they knocked on his door and said, ‘Here’s somebody who would like to meet you.’ I walked in and saw this man who was bald; he had taken off his wig and was sitting there in a white vest with braces. So to avoid that kind of disappointment we made a plan at Stratford that we would not get out of our costumes, and just stay dressed as we were. But some of the younger children found it quite frightening to see someone in make-up for a badger or the other animals close up.
I got very sick during the run, with awful bilious attacks, and when the doctor came to see me I was being sick into a great big dustbin, still dressed as the Stoat. That was when I discovered my
I had to wait until his hand was actually coming down to Antonio’s chest, and I thought that was false. At one point Terry sent everyone else out of the rehearsal room and jumped up on to a table, he was so cross; I will never forget it. He said, ‘You’re not to be unkind to Emrys, his father was a miner.’ I wasn’t being unkind, I was trying to make sense of the scene. She would never have left it that long, she would have died of fright. How could she leave it until the knife was actually coming down on him? In one of the notices I was criticised for being self-indulgent, waiting for that moment.
Nothing went right. I had this idea of a wig for Portia with lots of curls, and John Neville came one night, I had not seen him for years, and he knocked at my dressing room, put his head round the door and just said, ‘Hello, Bubbles,’ that was all he said, and quite right too. But the worst moment happened onstage. Michael was playing Bassanio, and I had a speech to him in the Caskets scene:
‘I speak too long; but ’tis to peize the time,
To eke it, and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election.’
One night I said instead: ‘…to stay you from erection.’ Well, the Wind Band stopped playing and left the stage, my brother Jeffery with Bernard Lloyd and Peter Geddis all left – nobody could stay. And I laughed. Poor Michael had a speech coming up, I have never seen him use his hands so much, and turn his back to the audience; it was terrible.
Michael and I played brother and sister in The Duchess of Malfi ; he was Duke Ferdinand and I was the doomed Duchess. It is a difficult play, but I loved it. I kept thinking of that famous picture of Peggy Ashcroft as the Duchess eating the apricots, and it was thrilling to play. It was, though, very difficult to learn, and in fact I can’t remember a single line from it, which is unusual for me. Clifford Williams was in charge of the production again and he made the most of it, though the notices were mixed for all of us.
By complete contrast, the Christmas play for children was Toad of Toad Hall , in which I played three parts – Mother Rabbit, First Fieldmouse and a Brave Stoat. Michael was Mole, Jeffery was Rat, Peter Woodthorpe was Toad, and Tony Church was Badger. So many of the children wanted to come round to see us, and I remembered my disappointment as a child when I did that. My family were all great fans of Gilbert and Sullivan, and when the touring company came to York two of the cast would always stay in our house. The girls said I had to go round afterwards, and I didn’t know what that meant. The man who played Nanky Poo had a lovely voice, and a wonderful shock of black hair. When I went round they knocked on his door and said, ‘Here’s somebody who would like to meet you.’ I walked in and saw this man who was bald; he had taken off his wig and was sitting there in a white vest with braces. So to avoid that kind of disappointment we made a plan at Stratford that we would not get out of our costumes, and just stay dressed as we were. But some of the younger children found it quite frightening to see someone in make-up for a badger or the other animals close up.
I got very sick during the run, with awful bilious attacks, and when the doctor came to see me I was being sick into a great big dustbin, still dressed as the Stoat. That was when I discovered my
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