Billington Signs Up
When David Warner’s Falstaff arrives in Gloucestershire to recruit his soldiers for the civil war in Henry IV Part Two at Stratford, the ground work had been done on opening night by Julius D’Silva’s bottle-nosed Bardolph, who instructed a segment of the Courtyard audience to get to their feet.
They did so, reluctantly, and the enlisted takers of the king’s shilling included one or two critics: Bulldog Billington of The Guardian and Midshipman Marmion of Associated Newspapers (Mercenary Division). Only Corporal Clapp of The Observer remained rooted to her seat, later explaining to all and sundry in the bar that she was a conscientious objector.
In truth, the whole “audience participation” thing was a bungled effort. This kind of wheeze might work at the Globe, but you can’t suddenly start treating the audience as if they were pantomime fodder in the middle of a right-on, not all that well acted production of a Shakespeare play.
The actors who had to do the jollying-along weren’t very good at it, either. You need Biggins, or Danny La Rue, to do this sort of thing. And when Warner himself appeared, he patently didn’t relish the enforced reference to this gang of part-time “pitiful rascals” and Bard wallahs.
I imagine he got a bit of a shock, too, when he saw the sphinx-like Billybong in his eye-line. Both Falstaff and the great critic hail from nearby Leamington Spa, and are fairly good buddies, so why on earth would Warner fire off the sadly un-Shakespearian line, “I’ll not march with them to Coventry, and that’s flat”?
As a pimply newspaper shop assistant, Warner used to sell the short-trousered, short-sighted future stage sage his lolly-pops and Beanos, and such social connections take very deep root; Billybong would go through fire and fury for Warner’s sake, not to mention the patriotic cause of squashing a few rebel rabble-rousers. Why on earth wouldn’t Michael go to Coventry, if sent there by David? Perhaps the Guardian review will reveal all…
