We’ve been to see The Lady Vanishes, adapted from the screenplay of the 1938 Hitchcock film. On the whole, we wished we hadn’t bothered.
It is very rare for me not to enjoy a visit to the theatre – and, as regular readers of my blog will know, I like to write about the plays and musicals we’ve seen and enjoyed. However, last week’s excursion to the Congress Theatre here in Eastbourne cannot be counted a success.
Not that the venue was to blame – far from it. It is an elegant piece of 1960s architecture and the public areas have recently been handsomely refurbished.
No, the problem was the play and the production: adapted from the original Sydney Gilliat and Frank Launder screenplay by Antony Lampard, The Lady Vanishes lacked sparkle: the set looked impressive, but considering that much of the action takes place on a train, it largely failed to convince. The cast rocked a little during the dialogue when they remembered – but the audience was given none of the feeling of the claustrophobia of an old-fashioned corridor train - so well conveyed by Hitchcock in the film. The fights were unconvincing and the climax of the piece – a gun battle from the train with the German baddies – seemed melodramatic without being believable. We know that the Nazi regime was ruthless and vicious – so why did they suddenly back off? And how did the British spy get away when the carriage was supposedly besieged by the Germans?
At the heart of the problem was that our hero Max (Nicholas Audsley) and heroine Iris (Scarlett Archer) were not sufficiently engaging to make you care. Ms Archer’s voice grated on me, and her idea of projecting her voice seemed to be to shout all her lines. And I am afraid their last-minute declarations of love left me cold – to be frank, I was by then more interested in the toasted bacon sandwich waiting for us at home.
I cannot help but wonder why they bothered – when there is so much fine material out there from that period – plays by Rattigan, Coward, William Douglas-Home and many more, not to mention the Queen of Crime, Dame Agatha Christie herself.
This was mediocre entertainment at best, not very well performed and playing to a small house, even on a Friday night. Regional theatre deserves better if it is to survive and prosper.