REVIEW: John Godber Company in The Highwayman, York Theatre Royal Studio, today at 2pm and 7.45pm ***

Penny for your thoughts: Jo Patmore’s prison troubadour offers to sing a song – for a price – to Emilio Encinoso-Gil’s highwayman John Swift as he awaits his hanging in John Godber’s The Highwayman

JOHN Godber is making history in more than one way in his new theatrical adventure. After more than 70 plays framed around modern culture and mores, he has gone back in time for his first historical romp.

Here is the background: “The year is 1769, when Yorkshire’s population has exploded, the races at York are packed, the new theatre in Hull thriving, and the spa towns full,” says writer-director Godber, now 68.

“Yorkshire was the place to be; a region drunk on making money, social climbing, gambling and gin, but with wealth in abundance, the temptation was great.”

Godber, who once lived in the East Riding village where Dick Turpin was arrested, evokes that era with references to Turpin, fellow highwayman John Levison, and Tate Wilkinson (who managed York Theatre Royal for 36 years and opened the Hull Old Theatre, mentioned above).

He also talks of the history of the assizes and public hangings on the Tyburn gallows in York, a spectator sport of its day that could draw crowds of 100,000 [like the old Wembley Stadium].

Caught in the footlights: Dylan Allcock, left, Jo Patmore, Emilio Encinoso-Gil and Matheea Ellerby in The Highwayman

The Highwayman of the title is, however, a fictitious 18th century character, one John Swift (Emilio Encinoso-Gil), whose opening words find him in the ultimate predicament. “I know what you’re thinking. Not a great start.” Here are the noose headlines: Swift is up to his neck in trouble, the hangman’s rope ready to deliver his exit stage left.

Freeze that moment, Godber keeping both you and Swift in suspense as the highwayman goes into flashback mode to tell you his back story, struggling to make ends meet with his forthright wife Molly May (Matthea Ellerby).

This may be a history play but Godber is drawing parallels with the privations of today, the disparity between the wealthy and those in need of a northern levelling up: the York race-goers and the pilfering pickpockets at work in the crowds.

Swift by name, he is swift of hand too, but while he believes he has luck on his side, his proverbial dropped sandwich would land jam side down. Even when he works at Tate Wilkinson’s theatre, he is peed on from the dress circle above, metaphorically as well as physically.

He is torn between doing the right thing, serving in the war against the French, tilling the land, taking that theatre job, but he cannot resist temptation. Just as Turpin was arrested for shooting the Green Dragon landlord’s cockerel, Swift is nabbed for stealing a duck.

John Godber: On the highway to Hull and back

In the play’s best scenes, Encinoso-Gil’s Swift and Ellerby’s Molly are often at loggerheads, exacerbated by time spent apart and their contrasting expectations. Swift would not call himself misogynistic, but his professed deep love does not extend to believing Molly should be working, especially now they have two children.

Her constant concern is to bring more money into the home, and unlike Swift, she does so by showing spunky entrepreneurial flair, first in selling pressed flowers, then in adding scent to candles: an invention greeted by Swift with derision to rival Peter Kay’s bewildered “Garlic bread”.

Godber has described The Highwayman as “very, very different from what I’ve done before”. Indeed it is, and not only on account of its period setting. Humour is in short supply in Act One, Godber in serious mode, even heavy-handed, the pace surely too slow for a highwayman romp despite the rambunctious friction of Swift and Molly.

You might be tempted to call it “ropey” at this stage, if you like a pun, but CharlesHutchPress prefers to share the undaunted positivity of Swift.

Give Godber enough rope and Act Two is anything but a downfall, by comparison. Instead it stands and delivers an upturn, aided by Dylan Allcock and Jo Patmore’s multiple role-playing, especially Patmore’s Irish pirate queen as Swift takes to the seas.

On his high horse: Emilio Encinoso-Gil’s highwayman, John Swift, makes a point in The Highwayman

Her lugubrious troubadour, offering to sing a song – for a fee – before Swift’s hanging adds to Godber hitting his comic stride too, while Allcock especially enjoys playing the grand thespian Tate Wilkinson back in his Theatre Royal home.

The dialogue, by the way, is modern, recalling Blackadder in giving it a more contemporary clout and political resonance. The staging is in economical Godber tradition: four regularly reassembled wooden boxes, a hangman’s noose and woodland screens behind.

In keeping with past Godber shows, snatches of pertinent pop songs set scenes, while the cast savours Allcock’s high-spirited folk songs, sung lustily in the manner of Brecht & Weil’s operas.

The Highwayman will not go down in history as one of Godber’s era-defining  plays, more as a dandy, if acerbic dalliance, a Yorkshire past brought into the present, as ever with hope for a changed, better future.  

John Godber Company presents The Highwayman, York Theatre Royal Studio, today at 2pm and 7.45pm, SOLD OUT. Box office for returns only: 01904 623568 or yorktheatreroyal.co.uk.

600 years of music in only 90 minutes? Ready, get set, go Green Matthews at Pocklington Arts Centre on Friday

Chris Green and Sophie Matthews: Speeding through 600 years of tunes, songs and humour

ADVENTUROUS musicians Chris Green and Sophie Matthews pack 600 years of musical history into 90 minutes at Pocklington Arts Centre on Friday night.

Beginning in the Middle Ages, ending up in the 20th century and incorporating everything in between, Green Matthews’ fun and fast-moving show undertakes a whistle-stop tour of Western musical history.

Featuring long-forgotten songs, tunes and jokes too, Chris and Sophie paint a vibrant and vivid picture of our musical DNA, mixing the familiar and the obscure, the raucous and the reflective and the courtly and the commonplace.

“A Brief History Of Music combines the vigour of the medieval period, the musical intricacy of the Renaissance, the grandeur of the Baroque and the pomp and bombast of Victoriana,” say Green Matthews.

“Add to that the wit of Blackadder and 1066 And All That and the stage is set for a veritable musical feast, complete with a bewildering array of instruments such as cittern, rauschpfeife and virginal – and that’s just the first 100 years!”

CharlesHutchPress asks Sophie Matthews to give a brief guide to A Brief History Of Music.

How did you choose what to put in and leave out of A Brief History Of Music?

“We try to take the audience on a musical journey, taking a snapshot of each different period using both music and instruments to paint a picture as we go.”

What drew you to doing such a marathon task of a show?

“We love music from all different periods of history, and it was tough deciding on one to do a whole show on, so we didn’t – we did them all.”

Green Matthews: “Taking a snapshot of each different period using both music and instruments to paint a picture as we go”

Why do you finish in the 20th century when we’re nearly a quarter of a century into the 21st?

“We feel that when you move into the 20th century, music becomes more about nostalgia than history, and also music in the 20th century moves so very quickly in a way that it doesn’t with earlier periods. Perhaps that’s a whole other show to be explored.”

How did you research long-forgotten songs?

“There are some really interesting resources both digitised online and in libraries around the country. However, a lot of the research starts by hearing someone else playing something that inspires us. You can then go on to find other things.”

How do Blackadder and 1066 And All That play a part in the show?

“We love the humour that they both bring to history. Our presentation is very light hearted and we love to make people laugh. We never take ourselves too seriously.”

What instrumentation do you use in the performance? What, for example, are the ‘rauschpfeife’ and ‘virginal’?

“I am a woodwind player and Chris plays fretted strings and keys, which work well together. The rauschpfeife is a woodwind instrument from the 16th century with a reed like an oboe inside a cap to blow through. It’s really loud and it died out because there’s no control over the volume.

“The virginal is a kind of small harpsichord. The difference between the harpsichord and the piano is that a piano has hammers inside that strike the strings and you can do that hard or soft, making it louder or quieter, and the harpsichord has quills inside that pluck the strings. But here, again, there’s no control over the volume, so it died out.

“We also have more familiar instruments such as recorders and lutes and three different kinds of bagpipe! And we both sing.”

Green Matthews: Return to the NCEM in the pipeline

How, when, where and why did you start performing with Chris?

“At a medieval banquet in Nottingham. One of us was Maid Marion, one was a court minstrel (we’ll leave it to you to work out which was which!), and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Do you have a favourite musical age?

“The 18th century. It’s a really interesting time where folk music and art music come together. The tunes are lively and vibrant and the songs are varied and interesting.”

Any early news on whether you will be returning to the National Centre for Early Music in York for another Christmas performance in 2024 after A Christmas Carol In Concert in 2023?

“Yes! We’ll be back there with our expanded Christmas line-up, Gaudete!, on December 11, when we’ll be joined by Richard Heacock on violin and Emily Baines on early woodwind to play new arrangements of winter songs and folk carols.”

Do you have album release plans for this year?

“There’ll be a live Gaudete! album out in time for the December tour.”

Green Matthews: A Brief History Of Music, Pocklington Arts Centre, February 23, 8pm. Box office: 01759 301547 or pocklingtonartscentre.co.uk.

Green Matthews’ poster for A Brief History Of Music

REVIEW: Charles Hutchinson’s verdict on Guy Fawkes, York Theatre Royal, until Saturday ***

The Gunpowder Plotters: Jamie Zubarai’s Kit Wright, left, David Reed’s Guy Fawkes, Robin Simpson’s Robert Catesby, Greg Haiste’s Thomas Percy and Andrew Pollard’s Thomas Winter. Picture: Sam Taylor

Guy Fawkes, Rumours and Rebels season, York Theatre Royal, until Saturday, 7.30pm nightly plus 2pm, Thursday and 2.30pm, Saturday. Box office: 01904 623568 or yorktheatreroyal.co.uk

FOR all the teeth-breaking toffee apples, pumpkin soup, fizzing fireworks and sausages – two forms of bangers, if you will – we take Guy Fawkes very seriously in York, more so than that scoundrel Dick Turpin. Born in this city, Christened at St Michael le Belfrey, no effigy burns on Bonfire Night at his old school, St Peter’s (likewise in Scotton, where Fawkes lived in his teenage years).

Yet just as he was mocked for his affected moniker Guido Fawkes, he is ridiculed for the ultimate incompetence of the Gunpowder Plot that ended with the treasonous traitor’s execution in January 1606, along with the hanging, drawing and quartering of his fellow conspirators. Cue comedic stereotyping of Popish knave Fawkes down the centuries.

Like the bungling incompetents in Guy Ritchie’s 1998 crime thriller Lock, Stock And Two Smoking Barrels, Fawkes’s story lends itself to black comedy, but like Vinnie Jones’s notorious line, “it’s been personal” for York-born writer and actor David Reed.

He first wrote a radio drama of Guy Fawkes for The Penny Dreadfuls, his troupe of purveyors of historical comedy spoofs, aired in 2009 on BBC Radio 4. Director Gemma Fairlie thought it should transfer to the stage, and rather later than first planned, it now forms Reed’s first stage play, billed as “an explosive new comedy”, one that takes the form of interlocking sketches more than a play in full flow, on Carla Goodman’s revolve set (to signify revolution).

Reed and Fairlie decided it should seek to weave together the two faces of theatre – comedy and tragedy – by combining high farce in the manner of Blackadder, Upstart Crow and Monty Python with the pathos of the futility-of-war finale to Blackadder Goes Forth, forever entrenched in the memory, like the poems of Owen and Sassoon. Thirty-six barrels of gunpowder? Seriously serious. One barrel of home brew among them. Comedy! The play seeks a more even balance, but ultimately to the detriment of both, never becoming a tragicomedy.

Lace in brief, witty bursts of metatheatre, referencing Shakespeare’s King Lear, the audience’s changing standards of theatre attire and a nod to Covid naysayers, dismissing the Plague as “a hoax”. Apply Horrible Histories’ flair for debunking history. Toss in a sword fight with The Three Musketeers panache. Crumbs, so much to play with, to squeeze in, so many elements to rub against each other, like sticks to start a fire. More of which later.

A pre-show chat with York actress Florence Poskitt, of musical comedy duo Fladam, and her father revealed he had once written a comedic musical version of Guy Fawkes. So many possibilities, and yes, this Guy Fawkes has music, of the incidental variety in the Jacobean style, by composer and sound designer Eamonn O’Dwyer.

Comic aside: Cassie Vallance’s Martha Percy in her farthingale that requires her to enter sideways. Picture: Sam Taylor

The way it plays out, Reed’s Fawkes treacherous trigger man is the grave one, driven by the detremination to return Roman Catholicism to the throne by blowing up Westminster, haunted by seeing the pregnant Catholic martyr Margaret Clitherow compressed to death in York, struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder from years of fighting in Spain, and now hell-bent on death and destruction back home.

Whereas Rowan Atkinson’s Edmund Blackadder is a cynic, full of putdowns, Reed’s Fawkes is already too damaged to be a clown with a frown. Darkness to the light around him, let others do the historical mockery; he is a man on a mission, and Reed wants us to better understand his motives, to tell his side of the story, to highlight his tragic flaws, rather than merely decry him as a pantomime villain, just as the Richard III Society seeks to paint a fuller picture of another derided son of York, Richard III, to counter the slings and arrows of Shakespeare’s play.

Fawkes is the northern late arriviste to a bunch of southern-softie amateurs: revolutionary fops who gather regularly at their local to discuss and plot James I’s overthrow, keener on the snacks and the gossip than getting the job done under stressed-out, coffee bean-chewing ringleader Robert Catesby (a delightfully nuanced, dyspeptic comedic turn from Robin Simpson, continuing his run of superb autumn performances after a trio of roles in Harrogate Theatre’s H2 Rep season).

Broader comedy is to be mined in Greg Haiste’s blustering, preening Thomas Percy, aping Rik Mayall’s Lord Flashheart with chutzpah; Northern Broadsides favourite Andrew Pollard’s more melancholic, thwarted idealistThomas Winter (of discontent), donning a bear’s costume as a forlorn distraction, and Jamie Zubairi’s camp Kit Wright, still in thrall to Fawkes from York schooldays.

Guy Fawkes is two clashing plays within one, matched by the theatricality of Goodman’s costumes, with the gap being bridged by Cassie Vallance’s Martha Percy, Fawkes’s rekindled love from yore, who begins as a riff on Blackadder’s Queenie, but grows to match Fawkes’s political zeal. Their showdown is Reed’s best scene, one that shows the alternative direction that this play could have taken from the start, potentially far more combustible, more dramatic too, for being more troubled, like Fawkes himself.

Ironically, both in Reed’s script and Fairlie’s direction, the comedy is the play’s stronger suit, but as the plot thickens, the gunpowder never catches fire. Or rather, when it briefly does, symbolically it is stamped out.

Maybe the truth is Guy Fawkes could never be a tragic hero, such were his intentions, but when Reed’s Fawkes says at the close “God, I’m weird”, no-one laughs. In an out-and-out comedy, you would, but the line belongs in a wholly darker drama.

Review by Charles Hutchinson