StageTalk Magazine reviewer Mike Whitton has been going to the Bristol Old Vic for over fifty years. Here are some fond recollections of the period 1965-67 when he saw actors such as Patrick Stewart and Peter O’Toole at the very start of their careers.

My earliest memory of live theatre is of a Bristol Old Vic production of Dick Whittington, from way back in 1956. I was seven years old, and all I can recall now from that show is that there were some magical transformation scenes featuring Lally Bowers as ‘Fairy Snowflake’.  The distinctive name ‘Lally’ proved to be unforgettable, but I have no memory of any other members of the cast.  However, a little research reveals that they included Phyllida Law, Edward Hardwicke, Derek Godfrey, Eric Porter, Alan Dobie and an up-and-coming lad called Peter O’Toole. The next time I was to see O’Toole in a production in Bristol it was in his disastrous Macbeth, and that, unfortunately, has proved to be unforgettable.

I did not begin to see plays regularly until around 1965, when an enlightened history teacher called Brian Williams set up a fairly informal theatre-going club at Fairfield Grammar School.  We sixth-formers invariably sat way up in the gallery, for though the seats were bum-numbingly hard, cramped and narrow, they cost a mere three shillings (15p).  The grander seats in the stalls were way beyond our means at twelve shillings (60p). I still have some thirty or so programmes from 1965 through to 1968.  Regrettably some have gone astray, including one for 1965’s premier of The Killing Of Sister George, written by Frank Marcus and directed by the redoubtable Val May. Though its censoring days were numbered, the Lord Chamberlain’s Office must have been given much to chew over, for The Killing Of Sister George was ground-breaking in its very direct portrayal of a lesbian relationship, a first for a British play. I have clear memories of stand-up comedian Beryl Reid’s funny and touching performance as a TV actress who has gone past her sell-by date. There were those among the staff at school who thought it was most unsuitable for teenagers to see. Of course, that show went on to become a West End hit, and Reid won a Tony when it transferred to Broadway. A successful film version followed.

Since 1946 the Bristol Old Vic had been a true repertory company, which meant that one could see favourite actors perform a wide variety of roles over a relatively short period of time. For example, I see from my programmes that I saw Patrick Stewart in five roles between October and 13^th and December 27^th, 1965. He was Shylock in The Merchant Of Venice, Lopahin in The Cherry Orchard, Dunlavin and Chief Warder in The Quare Fellow, and Edgar Sowter in The Happiest Days Of Your Life. The wonderful Jane Lapotaire crops up even more frequently; I saw her in no less than eight plays, perhaps most memorably as Natasha in War And Peace. This 1967 production was based on Val May’s hugely successful version from 1962.

Another name that appears frequently is that of Frank Middlemass.  He went on to radio fame as Dan Archer, but I remember him as a long-winded but touching Polonius in Val May’s brilliant 1966 Hamlet. This featured Gawn Grainger as a fine Laertes, Barbara Leigh-Hunt as a deeply moving Ophelia, and the great Richard Pasco in the title role. John Gielgud was so taken with Pasco’s performance that he quickly whisked him off to play in Chekov’s Ivanov in the West End.

Other well-known names that feature in my collection of programmes from those days include Thelma Barlow, Martin Shaw, Bernard Hepton, Angela Down, Stephanie Beacham and Jeremy Irons.  But it is Jane Asher’s name that brings back one of my most vivid theatre-going memories.  I had gone to see her in a Little Theatre production of another Frank Marcus play, Cleo. When the lights went up at the interval there was a peculiar moment when it seemed that all those sat ahead of me had turned around to stare in my direction.  It was only then that I realised that I was sat not two feet away from Paul McCartney. This was 1965, when Beatlemania was at its height. Later that night, while waiting for a bus in the rain, I glimpsed Jane Asher and Paul McCartney driving in his Aston Martin.  This proved to be my one and only brush with superstardom; I have both their autographs on my programme as a souvenir.

Were the 1960s some kind of golden age for the BOV?  Perhaps they were.  Val May was undoubtedly a great Artistic Director, and many of those productions were world class.  But theatre was far less inclusive back then, and by modern standards it had a tendency to avoid frightening the horses.  The audience was overwhelmingly middle-class and white, and so were the actors. The language seldom reflected the realities of most people’s lives, and only rarely were contemporary social or political issues tackled head-on, though many productions were judge to be quite challenging at the time. I look back very fondly to those days, but theatre has moved on, and a good thing too.   Mike Whitton

© Mike Whitton 2019 All rights reserved. No reproduction in part or in whole without prior permission.