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by Alan Bennett, directed by John Shooter

Precisely Peter Productions, Campbell House Museum, Toronto

November 4, 6, 7, 11, 13, 14, 17, 19, 21 mat & 22 mat, 2015

“A Second Set of Scintillating Portraits”

In November last year director John Shooter brought us three of the twelve monologues Alan Bennett wrote in 1988 and 1998 for the BBC under the collective title Talking Heads.  This year Shooter not only remounts that collection (which made my list of the Top Ten Productions of 2014), but has staged a new collection of three more of these miniature masterpieces. 

The original three now form “Program A” consisting of The Outside Dog, Playing Sandwiches and A Lady of Letters.  The new additions now form “Program B”.  These are The Hand of God starring Deb Filler, A Chip in the Sugar starring Richard Willis and Bed Among the Lentils starring Fiona Reid.  Anyone who saw what now is “Program A” of Talking Heads, will want to rush out to see the new “Program B” to enjoy more of Bennett’s humorous yet compassionate portraits of human frailty.  Those who have seen neither collection can begin with either Program since each of the monologues stands alone – but begin you must since both collections are ideal productions of exquisite writing, beautifully acted and directed.

The three monologues Shooter chose for “Program A” were each a kind of mini-mystery, sometimes quite disturbing, where a disparity opened up between the façade the speakers would like to project and the facts that they reveal.  The three monologues Shooter has chosen for “Program B” are all in a lighter vein and could be summed up as tales told of people hoist on their own petard, though beneath the humour we strongly sense the characters’ sadness and regret.

“Program B” begins with The Hand of God from 1998.  In the withdrawing room of the Campbell House, we find pieces of furniture piled on top of each other with knick-knacks and lamps on top of the furniture.  Deb Filler sits on a chair, casting an imperious gaze over us as we enter.  She is Celia, the proud proprietress of an antique store that doesn’t deal in paintings or the cheap sort of bric-a-brac and condiments of the other so-called antique stores in town.  She knows her furniture and silverware better than anyone and sneers at the poor taste of her competitors and the predictable shopping habits of her clients. 

What changes is when Mabel, who has been caring for the bedridden Mrs. Ventress across the way, brings in some very fine silver to sell.  Suspecting there may be more where that came from, Celia invites herself over only to discover that Mrs. Ventress lives in veritable treasure trove of valuable antiques.  At this point Celia decides that Mabel needs her help in caring for the ailing woman, especially since Mrs. Ventress’s only known heir is said to have died in an airline crash in Canada.  Out of the pure goodness of her heart and with a keen eye for hallmarks even on the spoon she feeds the old dear with, Celia looks towards a promising future.  Pride, however, must have a fall and the fall Bennett has prepared for Celia is as excruciatingly humiliating for Celia as it is deliciously humorous for us.

Filler gives a wonderful performance.  Before Filler even says a word, we can tell from the air of hauteur she gives Celia and from Celia’s habit of constant preening that this is a woman who feels innately superior to all those around her.  An arched eyebrow, an adjusted lapel, tells us how little she thinks she is like the rabble that surrounds her.  In the scenes where she speaks of helping Mabel, it is perfectly delectable how Filler shows Celia attempting to deceive herself that she is doing good when Celia is constantly appraising the value of everything in the dying woman’s house.  At the end, after a worse disaster you could ever imagine for her, Filler shows how Celia’s sneers, once turned toward others, she now painfully directs towards herself.  It’s an absolutely masterful performance.

Next we mount the stairs to the ballroom which has been made up as the ill-kept bedroom for Graham Whittaker (Richard Sheridan Willis).  With greasy hair, mismatched socks and a half-tucked shirt, Graham could not present a greater contrast to the ultra-fastidious Celia.  Willis’s monologue is called A Chip in the Sugar written in 1988 for Bennett himself to perform.  Graham is middle-aged and living at home to take care of of his 72-year-old “Mam”.  We gather long before the topic is ever mentioned that Graham is a deeply repressed homosexual and that he has mental problems for which he has been prescribed tablets.  Whenever Graham becomes too agitated, Mam tells him to take one.  Things seem to be going well enough.  Attending to Mam gives Graham lots to do and lots to complain about. 

One day, however, Mam trips when they are on a shopping excursion and the man who helps her up is a certain Frank Turnbull, apparently a former boyfriend from the old days.  Gradually, to Graham’s distress, Frank works his way into Mam’s daily life, buying her gifts and taking her for drives.  Indeed, fulfilling Graham’s worst fears Frank appears actually to be courting Mam. 

This presents a difficult situation.  On the one hand, with Frank, Mam appears to be healthier and more robust than Graham had thought and her memory has improved.  On the other, no longer being needed with the prospect of losing Mam to Frank sends Graham into a relapse of his psychological condition that would seem to be paranoid schizophrenia.  He imagines he sees a car parked just below his window with someone watching the house.  But, as it happens, the car is real, and one day, conquering his fear, he decides to meet its occupant.

The Graham that Willis presents is a man who has only a very tenuous hold on life.  Depressing as it may be for a middle-aged man to be living with his mother, the notion that he is caring for her gives his life some purpose.  When Graham notices how well Mam is when she is with Frank, Willis shows that Graham’s wonder is mixed with fear both that he may be losing Mam and that he may have misunderstood her status all along.  Her world may have been circumscribed by his very lack of imagination.  The bitchiness Willis give Graham toward Frank is humorous and a sign that Graham may have more strength in himself than he knows.  The ending is extraordinarily bittersweet with Willis playing both Graham and Mam with great insight and delicacy.

For the final monologue, Bed Among the Lentils from 1988, we descend into the cellar near the kitchen.  There we see Fiona Reid as Susan in an apparent attitude of contemplation as if she were a nun in everyday clothes.  This first impression is ironically correct, for Susan is a vicar’s wife who is chafing under the duties and attitudes she has to adopt in that position.  Her husband Geoffrey is ambitious, seeking to move into ever higher circles in the church hierarchy thus forcing Susan to have to behave ever more correctly.  Geoffrey has become more devoted to his job than to his marriage and to make things worse a group of middle-aged women, whom Susan calls his “fan club”, fawn over everything Geoffrey does and quasi-unconsciously competes with Susan for his favour. 

In this unhappy situation it is no surprise that Susan finds she is running through her sherry more quickly than she used to, to the point, in fact, that she is afraid to go to the local shop where her debts have piled up.  Instead, she drives into Leeds and discovers a small shop selling sherry among a variety of goods that, lucky for her is open till and and even on Sunday.  It is run by a young man from India who is waiting for his child bride in India to come of age.  In the interim, he and Susan strike up a friendship that leads in a very unexpected direction.

The role was originally written for Maggie Smith, but it could just as well have been written for Fiona Reid.  Reid has the same extraordinary gift of speaking prose where she makes every pause, every change in intonation, count, and in this wryly observed tale she can release gales of laughter simply by articulating words clearly through clenched teeth.  The placid, mousy exterior is what Geoffrey and the world sees, but Susan’s words reveal an entire world he knows nothing about.  Susan’s story ends with a twist and Reid shows us that Susan is painfully aware of the minutest detail of the irony that fate has brought about.

Reid’s performance brings to a triumphant close another triumphant evening of Bennett’s superbly written tales.  Shooter’s choice and organization of the monologues gives them a certain unity since Celia’s caring for a dying old woman links up with Graham caring for his Mam, and Graham’s enjoyment in visiting old buildings, especially churches, helps set the scene for Susan’s story. 

It is a gift to Toronto theatre-lovers that Shooter has brought together three more of Bennett’s monologues, and it is a further gift that this second set plays in repertory with the first set.  Having seen one Program, you will certainly want to see the second.  And having seen the second to may very well want to them both sets all over again.  The chance to see these monologues staged is not common.  With six of them, perfectly cast, and so beautifully directed and performed, and in such a lovely venue, Talking Heads, Programs A and B, must rise to the top of any theatre-lover’s must-see list.

©Christopher Hoile

Note: This review is a Stage Door exclusive.

Photos: (from top) Deb Filler as Celia; Richard Sheridan Willis as Graham; Fiona Reid as Susan. ©2015 Vincente Marana.

For tickets, visit http://talkingheads2.brownpapertickets.com.