I don’t usually post a second daily entry here, but the news of the premature death yesterday of theatrical visionary Ken Campbell, at the age of 66, means that my own rule needs to be broken. But then Campbell broke the rules all the time; the Guardian’s Michael Billington once called him “British theatre’s antic visionary”, while the headline to the same paper’s obituary labels him “one of the strangest people in Britain.”
That obituary, by Michael Coveney, calls him “was one of the most original and unclassifiable talents in the British theatre of the past half-century. He was a writer, director and monologist, a genius at producing shows on a shoestring and honing the improvisational capabilities of the actors who were brave enough to work with him”.
The roll-call of actors who did stretched from Bob Hoskins to Bill Nighy and Jim Broadbent.
But alongside the epic and improvisatory works for which he became best known - including Illuminatus!, an eight-hour work that was the first show to play in the National’s Cottesloe auditorium in 1976 and the 10-hour The Warp — he was also a noted actor (appearing in films like A Fish Called Wanda and Derek Jarman’s version of The Tempest, as well as onstage in Art in the West End in 2000), and even more notable mischief maker.
According to Coveney, he pulled off a magnificent hoax when “the theatre world was flooded with invitations from Trevor Nunn to come aboard the newly formed Royal Dickens Company in the wake of the RSC’s hugely successful Nicholas Nickleby”. As Coveney writes, “Shakespeare was being dropped for Dickens, and offers were made on meticulously reproduced company notepaper, all apparently signed by Nunn (“Love, Trev”). Nunn’s embarrassment was compounded by the fact that a lot of people had written back to him refusing, or even more disconcertingly, accepting his gushing ‘offers’ of work on Snoo Wilson’s Little Dorrit or Michael Bogdanov’s equally specious Sketches By Boz. After a couple of weeks of panic and speculation in the press, Campbell owned up.”
There was no one quite like him; and I’m only sorry I missed his last appearance just a couple of weeks ago, when he took part in a nightly improvised musical called Showstopper at George Square Theatre. Ian Shuttleworth, theatre critic of the FT, has written a very funny report of his own participation in the event, and it sounds like the quintessential Campbell project: “This has been my 20th Edinburgh season as a journalist. You might think that I’d pretty much seen it all by now. So did I, but one should never underestimate the festival’s capacity to surprise and delight. I’ve mentioned before that in recent years a number of shows have offered themselves to perform in your own house or flat; this week, however, I experienced another kind of personal presentation. Showstopper! - The Improvised Musical has been playing on the new George Square Fringe campus dedicated to musical theatre. Its artistic director Adam Megiddo contacted me several weeks ago to ask me to write a review. Not a review of their show - not quite. They planned, for their final batch of performances, to invite a critic each night to present the company with a review of an imaginary musical, which they would then turn into reality. It was too deliciously bonkers to resist. Almost immediately a line popped into my head: ‘The chorus line of roller-skating rabbis was a genuine coup de théâtre.’ Dare I go that far?”
Ian duly did dare to do so - and Campbell orchestrated it all! If only I had been there. I am sad to have missed it. But I’m even sadder that there will no more such madness to enjoy for any of us.
Ken’s finally learnt the art of invisibility, though this time it’s not by simply ‘hiding in front of things’. I’ll miss him greatly, as will we all…his endless inventive wit, his love of characters and the stories they told, his rasping articulate voice, his deep knowledge of cosmic and synchronistic events, his arcane curiosity, his ability to make you see the world in a completely different light and make you laugh 'til you cried. But most of all, I’ll miss his love of life and everything in it. Together with his many, many friends here in Liverpool whose lives were made infinitely richer by knowing him, we say that his inspiration lives on in the Creative Centre of the Universe.
For those of us outside the acting world, Ken will forever be the 'bard of Epping Forest' as he was known to all of us dog walkers around the Loughton area where he would stop and show my kids the latest trick he had perfected for his three dogs. RIP Ken...
Ken Campbell's view of the world was truly original and he was brilliant at getting it over to audiences. I'll particularly remember his Pidgin Macbeth, and the Illuminatus marathon. What about a Campbell Season?
I remember seeing Ken doing kids’ shows at the Unicorn Theatre (School for Clowns, say), and I had heard of his team around The Oval House (a hotbed of anarchic fringe theatre).
As a fan of Robert Anton Wilson I went to the all-day Illuminatus! at The Cottesloe, and also saw the abbreviated version performed at The Roundhouse. I happened to go on the night when Prunella Gee was indisposed, and her sexy role was taken by Ken Campbell…the only understudy who knew the part (apparently).
I also got to see the ‘limited edition’ H2G2 which he directed at the ICA, which was an extraordinary interactive experience, but which may not have translated so well into the proscenium theatre at The Rainbow. I somehow missed The Warp…
And then there were the wonderful solo shows. I didn’t see them all, but caught several. I have dragged initially unwilling friends across country to them, but no-one ever complained afterwards. They were usually crying with laughter – much as I am now, just at the memory of his stage presence.
I really will miss him.
For Ken Campbell
There are strange tales told in the Edinburgh cold in the land of the midnight show,
There are things can be said and reviews to be read plus some things that you'd rather not know.
'Twas in ninety nine, we remember the time that we met this remarkable man.
We'll recall now for you, the events that are true, every word, the best way that we can.
It was August of course, and we'd gone up north for a stab at an Edinburgh Show.
We had actors, a script, a theatrical kit, we'd arrived and were ready to go.
Then one day in a bar as we ordered a jar we looked up and we saw him right there,
The man in the hat, a remarkable chap, and he looked back and gave us a stare.
Are you doing a show, he wanted to know. Yes we are, we said, feeling a thrill.
So we gave him a flyer, his eyes lit like fire, and he said to us Whoarrrr! Fanny Hill!
I too have a show, and before there I go, here's a deal that I'll now make with you;
If you come to mine then I'll come to yours. That is fair, so that's just what we'll do.
So we went to his show and we sat in a glow of audience clapping and laughter,
While up on the stage with his dogs was the sage of theatre who'd see our show after.
It was well after one and our show had been run and we stood in the bar with the man.
I can see what you mean, entertaining it's been. I can help you, believe me, I can.
We conversed for a while, and he said with a smile seek wisdom from Sir Seymore Hicks.
And just one more source to steer you on course, I'll mention the name, Brian Rix.
But now I must go, thanks again for the show, I'll speak with you more when I can.
So an exit he made, and a reason he gave, I've left the dogs out in the van.
We've spoken again quite a few times since then and followed his inspiring rambles.
Raise a glass now and then to a gent name of Ken, our favourite of all of the Campbells.
Thomas Everchild
Philippa Hammond
September 2008