REVIEW: Rattigan's plea for compassion beautifully delivered in Chichester

Watch more of our videos on ShotsTV.com 
and on Freeview 262 or Freely 565
Visit Shots! now
Summer, 1954 – Table Number Seven and The Browning Version by Terence Rattigan, directed by James Dacre, Chichester Festival Theatre, until Saturday, January 25.

The timing was perfect. Just a day after incoming president Trump delivered a raft of blinkered, black and white measures, here in Chichester we get life in all its complexity and nuance: more specifically, in Table Number Seven, Terence Rattigan’s astonishing exploration of the impact of kindness and the power of compassion.

The one-act play makes up the first half of director James Dacre’s Summer 1954, a night of Rattigan at a very specific moment in time. And in a way, the first half might have been enough. It was so beautifully acted, so beautifully delivered that you wanted to be left alone with it for the rest of the evening. Unfairly perhaps, it was difficult not to feel a little resentment as The Browning Version started to edge it aside as the second half opened.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

However, The Browning Version, albeit rather grimmer, packed its own very powerful punch with a shocking moment of ghastly cruelty… before fragile hope just flickered a little.

In Table Number Seven we find ourselves in a Bournemouth boarding house where “Major” Pollock’s carefully constructed persona crumbles after he is caught in flagrante and his shame reported in the papers. Leading the charge against him Siân Phillips’s vicious Mrs Railton-Bell – superb at the age of 91 – demanding he leave. But as he crumbles, accepting his fate, the false major in all his vulnerability – terrific from Nathaniel Parker – starts to evince sympathy from the others at the boarding house. Decency and compassion start to break through in a way which leaves you feeling a little choked in the audience. It is beautifully done. With wonderful understatement, it’s remarkable how just a few words about the weather can be an olive branch, how simply stating the cricket score can be a reassurance that nothing has changed…

In the second half of the evening, in The Browning Version, Parker is “the Crock”, Andrew Crocker Harris, the stickler classics master forced to face his failures as he moves on, stepping down from the role because of a heart problem. The slights come thick and fast. His pension is denied, and he is forced to face the prospect of playing second fiddle on his own leaving day. Then comes an unexpected present, a kindness equal to that which we saw in Table Number Seven. Then comes the viciousness – enough to shatter anyone. But Rattigan’s brilliance – wonderfully conveyed by Parker – is that there is still hope to be found. The Crock starts to turn…

The sheer quality and impact of Table Number Seven made The Browning Version a little difficult to get into. Putting the two together isn’t absolutely perfect, but it certainly makes for a compelling, thought-provoking and memorable evening.

Excellent support from Lolita Chakrabarti and Jeremy Neumark Jones in particular.

Related topics:

Comment Guidelines

National World encourages reader discussion on our stories. User feedback, insights and back-and-forth exchanges add a rich layer of context to reporting. Please review our Community Guidelines before commenting.

Follow us
©National World Publishing Ltd. All rights reserved.Cookie SettingsTerms and ConditionsPrivacy notice