I could look back in anger. When it comes to The Lockdown, we all could. But while anger can give you a burst of energy, sustaining it over a long period of time erodes you.
Looking back in wonder, that’s far less damaging. During The Pandemic and The Lockdown things happened that had never happened before and, hopefully, will never happen again.
For example, the Government told us, told all of us, how many people we could see. How many people we could spend time with. Essentially we became a nation under House Arrest. A nation where everyone was under a Banning Order.
Those two concepts were only things I was previously aware of in terms of political dissidents. Aung San Suu Kyi spent a long time under House Arrest in Myanmar. And Banning Orders were what leaders of the liberation struggle against apartheid in South Africa were placed under to stop them associating with other ‘criminals and terrorists’.
Obviously I am over-dramatising what happened in the UK in 2020. But not by that much.
The Government said that we could only see, and spend time in the company of, the people we lived with. And most of us complied. Because most of us understood, or believed, that this was what we needed to do to keep people safe. So we pulled together by staying at home.
Back in the crisis of the Second World War Churchill rallied the nation by declaring that we’d ‘…Fight them on the beaches…’ For our national crisis of 2020 the call to action was definitely more Johnsonian than Churchillian.
When it came to combatting Covid Boris wanted us to stay indoors. He didn’t actually say that we’d ‘…Fight it on the couches…’ – but that’s only because he’s not as good a writer as I am. (Also, with Boris, there’s always the suspicion that for him couches aren’t solely for vegging out and watching Netflix).
I have a tangible record of this strange time.
Because the next film that got made was made with the people I stayed at home with – my family. And shot, on location, in our house. I wrote the script. My wife is the actor. And my son shot and edited the film.
I’m not sure that we’ll ever work together again in this way. But that’s okay, because we have once. Which only goes to show that even when the world is disintegrating good things can happen.
The film is about theatre and class.
The seed of the script is a trip I didn’t make to the theatre in 2019. I had wanted to see a play that had been getting rave reviews called ‘Sweat’. It was about the struggles of factory workers in the de-industrialised Rust Belt of Pennsylvania. The play opened at The Donmar Warehouse. By the time I wanted to see it, it had transferred to The West End.
So I went online to book. There were tickets in the stalls priced at £140. And that’s not tickets that had been marked-up by booking agencies, but tickets straight from the theatre.
Something here just wasn’t right.
Of course, there were cheaper tickets available too, but I couldn’t reconcile what the play was about, with what it could cost to go and see it. ‘Class’ seemed to be at the core of the dilemma.
There was what was on the stage, and there was who could afford to be in the audience. So I didn’t go. I know it was my loss, because by all accounts it was a great production of an important play, but I couldn’t get past those ticket prices.
Then we hit 2020 and I’m having to come up with scripts to film. And the thought occurs that maybe I could use my unease over ‘Sweat’ and explore it.
But that was an American play, and I’m not American, I’m British. And if you’re thinking about class, in theatre, in Britain, one play, and one character, is pivotal.
Take a bow Jimmy Porter.
Jimmy Porter is the now quasi-mythological protagonist, and antagonist, of John Osborne’s game-changing ‘Look Back In Anger’. There is before that play, and there is after that play. In 1956 it altered Britain’s theatrical landscape that much.
But this is 2020. And there isn’t any theatrical landscape because all the theatres have closed. And who knows when, or if, they’ll open again. And I want to write a script about theatre and class.
So I decide to break the law.
Legally, I don’t think you’re allowed to take a character someone else has created and reinvent them. Definitely sounds like an infringement of copyright. So I probably should have asked someone’s permission.
My defence is that it was The Lockdown. I didn’t know who to ask. How to reach them. And they probably wouldn’t have been in their office anyway.
So – look away now John Osborne – my Jimmy Porter is a woman, is working class, and has been viewing the world of British theatre from that imaginary, eternal, Green Room where theatrical characters get to hang out in when they’re not on stage.
Oh, and she’s got a few things she’d like to say about theatre and class.
The film is about 15 minutes long, but best watch it now as at some point I’m sure I’ll have to take it down.
Coming next Friday: A film about haircuts.
But first here’s ‘A Short Film About Theatre And Class’ featuring the fabulous Jan Goodman.