@Number 71

Archive for April 13th, 2010

Arthur & George has now ended its run at the Birmingham Repertory Theatre, so these remarks can’t act as a recommendation you see the play – although hopefully it will go elsewhere, because you really should. It is, of course, an adaptation of Julian Barnes’s superlative novel – perhaps his finest, and certainly his most humane – and David Edgar has done wonders transforming an inward-looking novel about identity into an engaging murder mystery about English society. The added emphasis the play puts on the questions surrounding the crimes at Great Wyrley provides it with a strong forward momentum, and an added focus on the accused – the eponymous George Edalji, the son of a Parsi vicar – provides a welcome balance to the novel’s defining portrait of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Doyle does remain, inevitably, the play’s central figure, however, and Adrian Lukis was superb in the role: domineering yet vulnerable, he had a child’s enthusiasm for cocking a snook to authority, but the newly moneyed’s fear of rejection and under-achievement. Chris Nayak as George suffered from a part defined primarily by awkwardness and a sort of strained dignity; the moments in which he is called upon to act the role of George’s prosecutor, however, reveal that the stilted element of his performance was part of the direction rather than a limitation of his art. Nevertheless, it’s a choice at odds with the play’s decision to round out George’s role. Since the play begins and ends with him, and is essentially a story about an Asian Briton finding his voice, it is a shame that Edgar so faithfully retains Barnes’s conceit of the strait-jacketed personality.

Nayak’s portrayal works in the context of the production, however, which is dynamic not just thanks to that rollicking crime narrative, but thanks to a revolving central portion of the stage which helps facilitate the many scene changes of the play. Arthur & George could have been a static affair, but in fact it includes shifts from drawing room to pub, hotel lobby to country field, which are wholly convincing and entertaining to boot. Not only that, but the manner in which Edgar’s canny script – in which scenes in disparate locations take place on stage simultaneously, and flashbacks exist concurrently with flashforwards – is presented on stage without confusion. The supporting cast were also uniformly excellent, and – crucially for any revival – this was not least in part because each character’s role is written with sensitivity and keen observation.

Thus matching its (admittedly less complete) treatment precisely for the different demands of the medium, Arthur & George is no retread of the novel – for instance, it changes the final scene of the book entirely, better to suit its own ends – and we thoroughly enjoyed it. It was thoughtful, aware and deceptively complex entertainment. Very nicely done indeed.


71 is the number of an apartment we return to regularly in Whinfell Forest, Cumbria. We like it there.


‘We’ are Anna French and Dan Hartland. The Story and the Truth is a sort of inadequate catch-all term for what goes on here: we tend to talk about novels, history, food and fashion, politics and music, but there may also be photographs of soft toys and musicians. Stick around and see.

Words We Like

The Blind Man's Garden, by Nadeem Aslam


Aslam's fourth novel is that rarest of things, a focused picaresque. It has been criticised by the formidable Adam Mars-Jones for a failure of courage - and yet having read the novel cover to cover and word for word, I found myself more in agreement with the praise of Pankaj Mishra. In this story of two young men who travel, naively, to Afghanistan in the October of 2001, it is the very ambivalence of the resulting consequences which render its portrayal of history at the sharp end so memorable. We are used to hearing, from one side or another, the verities of black and white. In The Blind Man's Garden, Aslam paints in technicolour shades of grey. Essential.

Sounds We Like

The Stand-In, by Caitlin Rose


The ever-present temptation to be cooler-than-thou might have demanded I list Lord Huron or Keaton Henson in this space, and yet few records I've been listening to this month have had the sheer charisma of Caitlin Rose's third LP. There's a cleverness - even a slickness - to how Rose balances the cache of retro country with the accessibility of the modern pop sound here, and, if that sounds like a demerit, then the way in which this sly production always works in support of often fabulous songwriting is certainly not. They do make 'em like they used to, after all.

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