Larry Draws a Big Crowd
Well, I suppose we’ll get used to it, but the new statue of Laurence Olivier by the National looks more like Peter Pan than Henry V. And more or less nothing like Olivier at all. Although it’s life size, it looks small and puny and conveys nothing of the great actor’s grandiloquence, sexiness or vitality.
At least it’s mounted on a large plinth. “Plinth Philip or Plinth Charles?” John Gielgud was reputed to have cried when assured by Peter Brook that a big golden phallus in Seneca’s Oedipus at the Old Vic would be so mounted.
Actually, a big golden phallus might have been a better idea here. Olivier was a wonderful vulgarian and would have hooted at the thought of it, as he would have relished the cackles in the audience at the Celebratory performance as the credits rolled for a clip of his appearance in Pride and Prejudice: “Five Love-Hungry Sisters — And How They Find Their Husbands!”; “Will She” — that is, Greer Garson as Elizabeth Bennett — “Marry Him: YES? NO? PERHAPS??
That was nearly as funny as Olivier’s Orlando wincing politely at Elisabeth Bergner’s verse-mangling Rosalind in the As You Like It movie. But the right sort of hush descended when we saw glimpses of his great screen performances and a lovely clip of a late television appearance in Harold Pinter’s The Collection: ” I have nothing against slum minds, per se, you understand, nothing at all. There’s a certain kind of slum mind that is perfectly all right in a slum…”
The real centenary of Olivier’s birth was, of course, 22 May earlier this year and I was delighted to meet up again with two of the only other celebrants I met in Olivier’s home town of Dorking on that day: Tarquin Olivier, his elder son, and the financial journalist and Olivier fanatic Julie Crust. “We few, we happy few…”
Why the delay at the NT? Gawn Grainger told me that they had to wait for Angela Conner to finish the sculpture. One rather wishes they hadn’t.
Still, the bash was a huge success, despite veteran critic Irving Wardle heartily greeting producer David Aukin thinking he was anothewr producer, Michael Codron. Joan Plowright kept her counsel and was being ferried around discreetly by Maggie Smith. Of all Olivier’s veteran colleagues the prize for survival must surely go to 95 year-old director Frith Banbury, who doesn’t look a day over seventy-four.
There were lovely onstage contributions from Alex Jennings as Noel Coward and Antony Sher as John Gielgud. I was only sorry to see Simon Callow scuttling away in his smart pin-striped suit before the show; he must have been on film location somewhere, or busy with a deadline.
At least that other prominent actors’ actor, dear old Vernon Dobtcheff, stayed the course. And we had to have a Dickie moment: Richard Attenborough didn’t disappoint, almost choking up with affection as he recalled the humbling occasion when Olivier asked him how to play his role in Oh What A Lovely War. “I mean,” Dickie stuttered, turning to jelly, “what could I tell him about acting?”
Best costume of the evening was Nick Hytner’s stunning new silver suit. One or two of Olivier’s NT company had, I regret to s say, omitted to polish their shoes. Maggie Smith looked unostentatiously gorgeous as usual while Anna Carteret looked as though she might be on the verge of reading a few people’s palms or fortunes. She must have taken a few dressing up hints from first night groupie Blanche Marvin.
We all ended up happy as Larry, though, scoffing salads and slurping wine in the stalls foyer area. This was an ideal location, affording not the slightest glimpse of the centenary statue on the walkway below.
September 27th, 2007 at 11:32 am
I saw Gielgud and Irene Worth in Seneca’s Oedipus at the Old Vic but I had completely forgotten the golden phallus. Glad you reminded me. I now find that writing it all down in a blog helps me remember what I’ve seen in the theatre and what I’ve imagined. Pity there were no blogs in the 1960s. The only time I saw Olivier on stage was in Long Day’s Journey Into Night and to my regret I can’t remember much about it.