The late self-appointed “moral” campaigner Mary Whitehouse’s obsession with The Romans in Britain – based on a short scene in the original National Theatre production in 1980 that she hadn’t actually seen for herself, when an invading Roman soldier raped a druid that saw the play wittily dubbed “Romans in Britons” at the time – has made Howard Brenton’s play both historic and notorious in ways that have given it more importance and significance than the play actually deserves.
But as director Michael Bogdanov, who directed the original production was famously hauled into the docks to face a private prosecution for “procuring an act of gross indecency” – and Whitehouse infamously withdrew her case in the middle of it being heard, thus (cleverly?) failing to get a ruling either way, leaving the option open of future prosecutions being launched again – it has made other theatres understandably wary of producing it.
Actor-turned-director Sam West – in his debut production as artistic director of the Sheffield Crucible – is therefore making a bold statement of intent not to be cowed, just as Nick Hytner launched his National Theatre regime with Jerry Springer – the Opera. (And West neatly sidesteps any threat of prosecution by staging the “offending” scene in full view but in an onstage pool of water, so although we know what’s going on, we don’t actually see the mechanics for ourselves. The Whitehouse prosecution was based on the fact that the actor playing the Roman held his penis in what was called “an apparently erect position”, and proceeded to seemingly insert it into the one playing the druid. Some actors have all the luck, it seems. But it turned out merely to be clever staging, with judicious use of a thumb).
But seeing it again last night for the first time since the National – in a production for which protests have yet to materialise, with not a single complaint arriving at the theatre so far – was to be reminded of the muddle of Brenton’s play, but also of its scope and epic ambition. It deserves to be seen again, clear of the more serious muddle of the controversy that surrounded it.
And talking of plays that deserve to be seen again: one of the eternal conundrums of the British theatre is how to capture and package a Bush Theatre play to give it a longer life. Despite the Bush’s legendary physical discomfort (now slightly improved on previous years, with an actual back rest rather than the legs of the person sitting behind you to lean on, but still butt-numbing benche seating), it has a rare intimacy and close-up two sided magic that seems impossible to recreate elsewhere, so that Bush hits typically either don’t transfer elsewhere or fail when they do so.
But now actress-turned-playwright Amelia Bullmore’s debut play Mammals – that I deemed to be one of my top five shows of the last year – has hit the road, and it’s every bit as emotionally rich, beautifully layered and witty as it was in Shepherd’s Bush. Even in a sparsely attended matinee yesterday at the Lyceum in Sheffield – with many of the cast of The Romans in Britain in support – it resonated with real insight, pain and humanity. It deserves now to make the next leap to the West End, but without a “star” name to sell it – albeit very fine actors such as Niamh Cusack, Daniel Ryan and Anna Chancellor in attendance – can it do so?
