I once saw Michael Billington, driven to distraction by the late start for the West End opening night of Hairspray, begin a slow handclap to try to urge the curtain up; and last night it was the turn of Charles Spencer to do the same thing at Deathtrap, which finally started at 7.20pm, but not before Charlie had actually left his seat to go and remonstrate with someone.
As always, there seems to be a conflict between what used to be the primary purpose of a press night, namely for the critics to see a show and deliver their verdict, and what they have actually turned into: a media scrum for minor celebrities, whether it be John Barrowman and Louie Spence, Stephen Fry and Nigel Havers, which slow down the progress of people to their seats.
No wonder that at least two of this autumn’s openings are adopting the new Sonia Friedman model, in which the first night has become a “gala” night, with critics invited to earlier previews with their reviews embargoed until after the gala. That’s what they’re doing for when Yes, Prime Minister comes to the Gielgud at the end of this month, and Flashdance to the Shaftesbury next month (though on that occasion, one of the performances we’re invited to choose from is in fact the gala night, too - in which case, on our own heads be it if it starts late!)
On the one hand, I would be sorry to see the old first nights go - it’s fun when the critics all attend together, rather than spread out over three or four nights, since it means that (a) we’re all reviewing the same show; and (b) we therefore share the same highs and lows, but bring our different interpretations to the same event. (Just this morning I have woken up to read a four-star rave from Sam Marlowe in The Times for Scorched that I, well, scorched yesterday here in The Stage).
On the other hand, I don’t actually have to “overnight” - that mad scramble for the exits that the daily newspaper critics need to make in order to meet a copy deadline that may be an hour or so later (hence Charlie’s irritation at the late start; it was eating into his writing time). Instead, even though I was writing a review overnight for publication here on The Stage website today, I wasn’t under immediate time pressure to deliver it. The only pressure I have is self-imposed, when I tweet a mini-review the moment I get home.
But then David Pugh and Dafydd Rogers, the usually savvy producers of Deathtrap, sometimes seem to be happier when the critics don’t come at all: they created such obfuscation around the press night of the West End transfer of Calendar Girls that no one knew when to come, and even the “gala night” become an event for momentous confusion, as I reported here at the time, when the critics pitched up for what they’d been told was a 7.30pm showing but in fact the rest of the audience were told was 7pm, meaning for once that it was the show waiting for the critics rather than the other way around.
I also wonder how many critics Pugh managed to rouse from their slumbers last Friday, when he sent a personal note to all of us urging us not to read the play before we saw it to remind us whodunit or rather who got done. It was sent recorded delivery, which meant, in my case, a ring at the front door from the postman at 7am. Now I’m typically an early bird - sometimes a very early bird, as witness the early posting time of today’s blog - so I was already up and showered and ready for the day. But I know that many of my colleagues would still be tucked up in bed then. Being woken up for a letter from a producer might not be the best tactic to win friends and influence critics.
As expected, Michael Coveney ruins the twists of Deathtrap by giving them away in his review, shame on him !!!!
Why does no one kick this man severely for ruining other people's enjoyment if they are unlucky enoiugh to read his review?
I had already seen the play and knew the twists anyway, but if I was a Deathtrap virgin I would be outraged!!!
Perhaps we should be a little more forgiving of the late start due to the utter chaos that was the West End last night due to the tube strike?
As for Deathtrap, what a blast! Simon Russell Beale's perfect comic timing was worth the wait alone. The man's a master. Add to that Mr. Groff, who it turns out can act, in additon to, let's face it, being absolutely gorgeous.
A fun, fun evening. Highly recommended.
Bless Critics,they never seem satisfied and think themselves above everyone else in the matter of being totally inconvenienced.It was good of the producers to hold the curtain.It happened at War Horse where I was that night Mr Spencer.I guess it happened at most venues.
I loved Deathrap,seeing it starring Dennis Quilley and the wonderful Joyce Grant.I don't think I'll want to see it again howeever good Mr R-B is, and it appears it is let down by Ms Parsons who diminishes the great performances of her other actors.
I'm not so sure it was the slebs swanning that delayed the curtain of Deathtrap. The last folk into the auditorium, mere seconds before the lights dimmed, were the St John's Ambulance staff. Given the crass hype about extra St Johnners having been engaged in case the shocks of the play should prove too much for audience members, I wonder whether this wasn't a ludicrously overplayed final gambit in that strategy. If so, it's thoroughly insulting to all concerned.