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Collins' classic still has air of mystery
The Woman in White Wolverhampton Grand **** IT seems quite remarkable that it has
taken until now for a stage play of Wilkie Collins’ Victorian
blockbuster to appear There was the short
lived 2004 musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber, a few silent films, a 1948
screen adaptation and even a Russian cinema version called
Zhenshchina v belom
while the BBC has managed two adaptations, the last in 1997, but no one
has bothered to bring the novel to the stage, until now. For producer Ian Dickens and his wife Nicola
Boyce, who wrote the adaptation, it has been a labour of love and their
creation could still do with a few hugs to set it on its way after
its world premiere at the Grand. At three hours, including two short intervals, it
is a tad long and a bit of judicious pruning should also help to inject
a little more pace Wilkie was Charles Dickens’ protégé and first serialised the novel in Dickens’ magazine in 1859 where he was paid by the word, hence there are 700 pages of novel and a lot of words to condense into a play which has to contain all the elements of the book yet must stand on its own as a play - not everyone has read the book remember - and still finish before the last bus home. Some characters fall by the wayside. Mrs
Catherick, for example, mother of The Woman in White, Anne Catherick,
only merits a mention in the play while Count Fosco’s missus, who is our
heroine Laura’s aunt, doesn’t even merit that. As far as the play is
concerned she does not exist. But Miss Boyce manages to retain the basic
elements, remaining true to Collins' plot and, to ensure audiences do
not need to bring flasks, sandwiches and sleeping bags, she uses the
device of a series of soliloquies by the main characters to both tell us
their thoughts and fill in gaps in the narrative to condense the action.
PROCEEDINGS IN COURT The use of characters talking to the audience to move the tale on, a sort of lierary voice-over, was not a uncommon feature of the Victorian novel, by the way, and Wilkie himself in his preamble to The Woman in White explains that the tale of his book will be written by the pens of several people, rather like proceedings in court. Wilkie entered Lincoln’s Inn to study as a barrister earlier in his career, incidentally and the script follows that principle. The Woman in White is Anne Catherick who appears
as mad as a hatter having just escaped from the local asylum after being
locked away by Sir Percival Glyde, played with a nice dollop of
Victorian melodrama, a real cad and bounder, by Peter Amory who had
plenty of practice at being evil as Chris Tate, in
Emmerdale . She is helped in her escape ny art teacher Walter
Hartright, played with earnest zeal by Thomas Browlee, who is on his way
to Limmerage House in Cumberland where - pause for effect – it
transpires nutty Anne stayed as a young girl – coincidence or what! When he gets there his job is to teach two half
sisters, Marian, played with just the right amount of feisty indignation
by Lucy Cudden and Laura who is played with a sort of innocence
drifting from childish happiness to the depths of despair and,
eventually, back to happiness again by Isla Carter. The arrangement all goes pear shaped when our
Walt falls in love with Laura, and she with him, which could cause
problems with her impending marriage to – dramatic pause and music – Sir
Percival. So our Walter has to leave but not before The Woman in White
pops up again in the graveyard to warn of impending doom and that Sir
Percival is not all he seems.
Enter solicitor Vincent Gilmore, nicely played with avuncular charm by Neil Stacy, who tries to protect Laura’s interest in the marriage but is thwarted by her invalid uncle and guardian Frederick Fairlie, a bundle of nerves, and don't we all know it, in the hands of Glyn Grain, and the scene is set for Sir Percival, who a dodgy member of the upper class and on his uppers to boot, to set about raiding his new wife’s fortune aided by his Italian friend, the scheming Count Fosco, played with obvious enjoyment and gusto by Colin Baker. With a fully fledged Victorian villain in the shape of a cruel husband fond of the demon drink the scene is set. Throw in a mysterious death, mistaken identities, threats, Walt's Italian art Prof friend Pesco, which provides a cameo role for Richard Tate, and a secret Italian society called the Brotherhood where the penalty for dishonour is death and you would think there was enough plot already to fill any play. But no we also have the revelation of Sir
Percival’s scandalous – at least in 1860 – secret, a mysterious church
fire and the mystery of Anne’s father, and why she looks just like
Laura, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, so there is a lot to pack in before
everyone, or at least the survivors, can live happily ever after.
A big talented cast of 13 enter into what is a big story with plenty of enthusiasm and as the plot thickens nicely, they pick up the pace as all the threads are drawn together. Beaing such a big novel also poses problems for the designer, Alan Miller Bunford, who had to create two country houses, a lodging house, lunatic asylum, solicitor’s office, opera, London street and graveyard all without holding up the action, and apart from a couple of minor first night hiccoughs, his set proved remarkably flexible. This was the opening night and I am sure Ian
Dickens, who directed, and his wife, will tweak here and there to build
on what is already a good, solid foundation. It has taken 152
years but the wait has been worth it. To Saturday, June 23. Roger Clarke This was the final play in the Ian Dickens' successful summer season at the Grand and Colin Baker announced that the summer season will return, with different plays, next year. |
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