Review: BEN AND IMO, Orange Tree Theatre
Photo credit: Ellie Kurttz
1952, Aldeburgh, and Ben – Benjamin Britten – has been asked to compose an opera for the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. He is alternately elated and terrified at the thought and has asked for an assistant, although without really thinking too much about how that person might help. His helper turns out to be Imogen Holst – Imo – who has just left her teaching post at Dartington, and has devoted much of her life to her father, Gustav Holst’s, work. Very much a free spirit, she refuses to fit in with the quirks and eccentricities of life at the Britten household and the relationship is a stormy one – and storms feature metaphorically and in reality throughout the piece. Eventually, Britten recognises that he needs his amanuensis as much as she needs to be there.
The talk is not so much of musical phrasing and composition as it is of the practicalities of composing a new work for a royal occasion; and the two battling egos on stage are not the only ones involved in this conflict. A host of unseen offstage characters, from Britten’s partner Peter Pears to the historian Kenneth Clark are present too, as is the threat of the piece being diluted, as Britten sees it, by adding a ballet. Issues that resonate today are also raised, since this was the period when the Arts Council was founded, and public support for the arts was as debated as it is now.
The RSC production of Ben and Imo, first seen at the Swan, fits perfectly into the Orange Tree auditorium. With a piano centre stage, itself revolving from time to time, a sea-green carpet with pebble edging, and a few pieces of furniture to evoke the period setting (Soutra Gilmour), Erica Whyman’s astute and sensitive production is enthralling from start to finish. Mark Ravenhill’s play is just the right length and his skill at getting laughs from serious issues without trivialising them is quite remarkable. He is also highly adept at writing about the relationship that developed between these two complicated and difficult people, and about people who don’t always want the things they say they want.
Two parts, then, that require skilled playing, resisting the attempt to caricature, and attempting to portray not just the people but the relationship and the tensions created. Both actors are superb. Samuel Barnett is alternately engaging and annoying, always showing the sadness at the core of this troubled man, and he even manages to look quite like him at times. His explosive temper coupled with repression and hesitancy is very well portrayed. It is a definitive performance in a part that is likely to be sought after by other actors in years to come, with this play destined to see regular revivals due to the quality of the writing and the acting opportunities it offers.
As Imo, Victoria Yeates has different challenges. Most of the audience will know much less about her and so she needs to give us the background as well as portraying her role in the situation. Helped by Ravenhill’s sensitive interweaving of her back-story, she creates a complex, often exuberant and always astute woman who will not be taken as a fool. In the close quarters of the Orange Tree, she holds the audience close to her and we react as one. Hers is a touching, heartfelt and quite remarkable performance.
Two unforgettable and incredibly detailed performances then, in a great production which is another triumph for the Orange Tree.
***** Five stars
Reviewed by: Chris Abbott
Ben and Imo plays at London’s Orange Tree Theatre until 17 May, with further info here.