'Oh What A Lovely War' at Richmond Theatre

On Saturday afternoon we trekked out to Richmond in Surrey to see 'Oh What A Lovely War' at the delightfully charming Richmond Theatre, a play Chris wanted to see for some unknown reason. I've never seen the show before or managed to sit through the film from start to finish so I wasn't sure what to expect. When we went into the theatre the toffs were playing cricket on the Green opposite the theatre in what could have been an Edwardian pastoral scene, with locals wandering round the Green - all that was needed was crinoline, parasols and top hats rather than jeans.

It's a Northern Stage production and has some nice Geordie voices reflecting the massive death toll of Geordies in the First World War. The blurb about the show suggests it aims to parallel the current state of affairs in Afghanistan in terms of the stalemate in the country with neither side making much progress. That's a big challenge and I don't think the show really achieved it.

It's not so much a play with a linear narrative, it's more a series of set pieces with the small cast playing multiple parts, moving from music hall song and dance to comedy pieces with bits of social commentary thrown in for good measure (such as a speech by Emily Pankhurst in the second half). The stage was largely empty with musical instruments dotted around the stage as well as some ladders and planks of wood as props. Our host for the show was Gary Kitching who moved from the cheeky-chappy comedian of the first half to the grim General Haig of the second half very convincingly with a nice line in patter changing to unflinching earnestness as the General who threw so many lives away. The rest of the cast revolved around him, fast paced and light on their toes except for when there was a need for heavy boots. And there begins my problem with the show.

There was a lot of noise, lots of stomping of heavy boots on the wooden stage, lots of drums of various sizes, and the noise kept obscuring the words and songs. Clearly, they've performed the show in the same way in lots of venues around the country so perhaps there's something about Richmond that led to the drums and boots obscuring the actors voices but I found it rather irritating. The not-so-subtle use of drums to reflect the sound of gun-fire is fine but not when it means you can't hear what people are saying and that kept happening, or at least it did for me. The other annoyance was the rather impenetrable accents that erupted from the stage whenever the cast played French, German, Belgian, etc, people that meant I didn't quite catch what Johnny Foreigner was saying some of the time - it was too much effort to pay attention.

On the plus side, I liked the minimal costumes, with actors donning a hat to reflect that he or she was now a general or grabbing a parasol to depict a genteel Edwardian lady. I liked the projections against the brick back wall, the ticker-tape effect from the BBC news with the time section reflecting the year. I liked the minimal set and props and also liked some of the actors (particularly Gary Kitching). But, overall, it didn't really engage me and all too often I was wondering what would happen next rather than focus on what was happening now.

It did, however, evoke many thoughts about the First World War, the War to End All Wars. So, in that respect, it was very successful. I rejoiced to hear a rousing rendition of the chorus of 'Cushie Butterfield' at one point when some brave Geordies took enemy trenches and found themselves too far forward and were killed by 'friendly fire'. The sound of 'Cushie Butterfield' took me back to the late '60s or early '70s when it was used as the music to a beer advert (I think - if you know better, then please tell me). It also reminded me of my Granda who survived the war but lost an arm. And one of the final songs struck me as so true, about how, when the young soldiers returned home they wouldn't speak of the horror they lived through. My Granda never did.

Coming out of the theatre, the toffs were still playing cricket. How the world moves on and yet stands still. The train back home was full of rugby fans from Twickenham drinking from cans of beer, but I had 'Cushie Butterfield' in my head - more about her later...