Lyttelton, National Theatre, until March 2010
The new Alan Bennett play The Habit of Art is about the poet W.H. Auden and composer Benjamin Britten.
But it’s also an examination of acting, theatre, writing, music, artists: the fabric that makes up “art”.
In The Habit of Art, rehearsals are taking place for a play about Auden. He has returned from America to Oxford. This is no romanticised version of the poet’s life, as demonstrated by his personal hygiene, which includes urinating in the sink, and encounters with a rent boy.
The focus is the relationship between Auden (Richard Griffiths as the actor Fitz) and Benjamin Britten (wonderfully upright and uptight Alex Jennings, playing the actor Henry). They haven’t seen each other for 20 years, and Britten visits him to seek support on his new opera, Death in Venice.
There are many different layers in the play, like a set of Russian dolls. Inside The Habit of Art itself is the play Caliban’s Day, about Auden and Britten. The actors go in and out of role, offering constructive and not so constructive criticism about the quality of the play. Griffiths can’t remember his lines as Auden (and you wonder if this has been written in deliberately, as Griffiths took over from Michael Gambon at the last minute).
The play is at its best when it’s slipping effortlessly between the preoccupations of Auden and Britten as artists, to the insecurities, aspirations and disappointments of the cast. For example, Adrian Scarborough (playing the neurotic actor who plays the autobiographer) winces that he may be a “device”, a word that strikes horror among the rest of the retinue.
The first half is generally very funny. Auden is told that Professor Tolkien was at dinner in the college and that he’s just written another book. “More fucking elves I suppose,” replies Auden.
However, the play could do with some editing, as it is a bit rambling and discursive in places. This review is based on seeing a preview of the production, so I suspect that it will get sharpened up significantly.
This is most apparent in the second half when the focus falls firmly on the discussion between Britten and Auden, and it gets bogged down in being a straight-forward (and not majorly engaging) play.
There is less of the chopping and changing out of character, and you lose the funny and revealing commentaries from the actors. And I just wasn’t convinced by the relationship between Auden and Britten, which lacked chemistry; the exchanges between them were a bit ponderous and, dare I say it, boring.
It is a stunning cast, with Griffiths, Jennings, and Adrian Scarborough. Frances de la Tour was woefully underused as a bit parter and a stand-in director who spends most of the time sitting on the side-lines – something, indeed, that emerges as a frustration for her character at the end.
I felt that the whole cast was operating on 75% because the material wasn’t quite there. Again, perhaps this is something that will tighten up.
Overall, I loved the first half with it’s light touch and the examination of the creative process by an accumulation of well-observed detail.
But I didn’t enjoy the second half as much: the play lost its main attraction by focusing on Auden and Britten and a fairly clunky plot with the rent boy.
Then again, I couldn’t see what the fuss was about The History Boys whereas everybody else raved about it, so it’s possible I am missing something again.
Dates up to 24 January are sold out. More seats will be released for February and March 2010, with booking open on Wednesday 2 December on the National Theatre website.
