Emylin Williams classic thriller returns to the stage in this new production starring Ayden Callaghan under Sean Mathias’s direction. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if its obscure plot revolving the secret life of award-winning author deserves to be cut to ribbons.
History always finds a way to repeat itself. It’s funny to think of how many times I may have started a review with that reflection. For those who dare hint the possibility that I’m running out of ideas, wait for me in the alley next to your shack and we’ll talk business. But in all fairness, how could that remark not return, when all we see everyday is how we keep making the same mistakes over and over again? The theatre is, in fact, a good example for that matter.
You can put your worries aside as for today’s show. Fortunately enough, this is not the kind of piece you would spend a week trying to find kind words about – and even your greater accomplishment in that effort would be regarded as scathing. We’re, in fact, talking about a classic dealing, nonetheless, with the risqué, and the subsequent addiction that tampering with it often brings along. Picture a celebrity writer on the night before the grant of his knighthood – soon to find out that his rising reputation is about to plummet into complete obscurity when one little secret gets away…
In a time when sex scandals have become a standardized treat of schadenfreude for the masses (not that they ever ceased to be), it only feels logical to bring back a play exploring such personal turmoils – depicting the living hell anyone remotely involved is sentenced to experience, but also posing an interesting question concerning society’s usually decalibrated moral compass: are victims always victims and criminals always the ones deserving to take the blame?
Written by celebrated author Emlyn Williams, the piece offers an honest view of what, especially back in the day (we mustn’t forget that it was penned in the 50s), would have been a taboo subject in any public conversation. An honourable person (whatever that term means) stained by the sheer embarrassment of his unconventional desires sounds like an adventurous topic to tackle in front of an audience that would probably gasp if they heard the word “cocktail” split into syllables. And though the premise still continues to entice nowadays, somehow we can’t help but feeling as if, at least in some aspects, we’re looking through a window opening to a reality that sadly no longer resonates with us.
The problem may stem from the script’s structural style, relying on too much initial exposition, and featuring excessively long excerpts of dialogue that, unfortunately, do not contribute much neither to the evolution of the narrative or its flow. It’s not until halfway through the first act that any specks of true conflict commence to unravel; and wistfully, not until right before the intermission that the plot itself is actually set in motion.
Directed by Sean Mathias, the production manages to boost the appeal through some imaginative transitions and visually symbolic choices, while also enhancing the charm of a past era which, though probably too distanced now from our current cares, still has an element of allure to be taken by. With a generally effective use of music (more than once, unleashing stronger tension that the play’s discourse per se), the whole montage will probably please those looking for a faithfully traditional stage work – following a similar formula (as for both its aesthetics and approach) as some veteran West End darlings like The Mousetrap.
The comparison is also applicable to the performances’ delivery – all in all, carried out with a sense of old-days glamour which, though standing aside from the pattern that we would normally expect nowadays, is nonetheless able to strike a reaction and, in general, bring contentment to the viewer. Among them, Jamie Hogarth gives one of the strongest renditions as Harold, exuding flair and naturalness in his portrayal of the comically serious secretary. On the other hand, David Phelan makes a memorable impression as book editor Thane, endowing his character with elegance and presence, while Louis Holland proves himself as a much promising emerging actor through his sincere and highly inviting interpretation as Ian.
An unfinished jaunt rolling on the unstable tracks of vice and principle, Accolade wins the first prize for a transgressive creation of its time – bringing up a tacit reality which, despite society’s continuous attempts to silence it, keeps throbbing hard (no pun intended) beneath the hollow layers of prejudice. Yet, there’s a struggle to draw out the universality which, had the script either been rejuvenated or revised to introduce the same situation in a more compelling way, would have swum with the modern tides more evenly. It’s anyhow able to entertain, but still encounters some difficulties when exposing the complexity it so blatantly aims for. And though some of it is talked about, it’s precisely what goes untalked that prevents it from fully speaking to us.
Accolade plays at the Richmond Theatre until 13 July. Tickets are available on the following link.