SHAKESPEARE’S TOWN

Grey River Argus, 2 September 1948, Page 8

SHAKESPEARE’S TOWN

(By Reece Smith, New Zealand Kemsley Empire Journalist). STRATFORD-ON-AVON July 27 What any theatre needs is a good script writer. It is no use paying players to meander round the stage with nothing to say, or without beaning each other now and then to recover the attention of patrons who have mislaid the threat of the discourse. Even as the West End scratches for such writers, an out of town theatre has unearthed quite a drawcard. His shows go pn by the brink of a swan-swathed stream down Warwickshire way, in a town with a NewZealand name. This place; has no lowing herd winding slowly o’er the railway line. Stratford-under Egmont has no Shakesneare. Shows how things balance out.

An American boster would fire the maid who brought my morning tea to “Got the Sun in the. Morning and the Moon at Night” instead of “Hey Nonny Nonny"/’ but one does not have to be about. Stratford long to discern who the sales point it. Roy, night porter at the “Swan’s Nest,” opined that: “If it wasn’t for Shakespeare, Stratford would be the most one-eyed town you ever saw.” I don’t know about that. I’ve seen Auckland. . , The Stratford Memorial Theatremakes many New Zealand theatres look like fourth rate circus tents Smooth, glassed restaurants overlook the soft river. There is a terrace for tea on fine afternoons. An ample dinner in the restaurant, a pleasant panorama of the Avon, a few steps into the theatre, and a few steps back to the glossy bar between acts. It could be argued that this is more civilised playgoing than a feverish butt in a draughty foyer,, then a fistful of melting eskimo pie. I saw Troilus and Gressida, and King John. The former was distinguished, according to piercing rumour, because Andromache was played by the daughter of the landlady of the elderly female just behind me. Shakespeare is disinterred from textbooks when the Stratford team get to work on him. I asked the retiring director, Sir Barry Jackson whether the Old Vic was competition. Smiling, he shook his head. We have Stratford here.” In his three years of office,- Sn Barry has gone far to making the Memorial Theatre the shrine it was intended to be from its birth 16 years ago. He told us of a Norwegian student, studying the Merchant of Venice, who worked his passage from Oslo to Newcastle, bought a bicycle with his paving off money and cycled to Stratford to see the play performed. One day last week brought 3000 letters applying for bookings, and enclosing amounts from 2s. bd to £5O. Seventy-three nationalities have been to the theatre. . , x . . Because the Shakespeare l festival only extends through the summer each year, and maintenance has to goon all the time, £BOOO was lost last year. Even though a sell-out summer season is not enough to tide over

the winter, the. theatre will never fold, said Sir Barry. It is Shakespeare headquarters of the world. Shakespeare is international, and there are some plump international wallets not. too far in th Whßh S may sound high hat, but the theatre goers are certainly not. For the most part they are quiet, orderly British folk, come to see a show by their Stratford boy who spun such' meaty yarns. Not, of course; bacon meat.-