08. The Life Of Galileo (1965)

The Life of Galileo by Bertolt Brecht, performed on March 25th, 26th and 27th, 1965.

Brecht's Galileo, viewed in anticipation and (in my case at any rate), from only passing acquaintance, seemed in many ways a very apt choice for the School Play of 1965. The fact that it was concerned with a man outstanding in the history of science promised some universality of appeal to a modern grammar school audience and cast; its theme had the initial advantage of being more or less familiar from studies in science. mathematics and history: the questions it posed about the moral responsibilities of scientists and the use that should be made of their researches had undoubted relevance to our present situation. Furthermore, from the dramatic viewpoint, one guessed that Brecht's treatment would not make emotional and interpretative demands far beyond the reach of boy actors; there was opportunity for a variety of parts of moderate size and the simplicity and flexibility of staging demanded was well-suited to the circumstances of school production, and was consistent with the most enterprising developments in modern theatre.

And yet, very enjoyable though the performances were in themselves, I for one felt a sense of anti-climax, even disappointment at the time - an impression which remains and looking back now, one wonder's why this should have been so.

I do not think that the production was basically at fault. Indeed, within the unavoidable limitations of the circumstances, the producers, Dr. P. L. P. Clarke and Mr. A. Tisdall, were remarkably faithful to what I believe to have been Brecht's intentions. Furthermore, there were numerous happy touches - to name only one, the appearance of the be-guitared Peter Hildyard as a s(w?)inging prelude to many episodes. Well-designed, attractive staging, effective and sensitive lighting and sound, and smoothly co-ordinated stage management and backstage work brought the producers ideas to fruition. (And in this connection, further mention is due of Roger Hume's contribution to School Drama in this and previous years, for which in 1965 (his last year at school) he was so justly awarded the Service to Drama Prize).

What then of the acting in general, the standard was a good and sound as in other years. And if there seemed to be fewer really outstanding performances (perhaps for the reasons which I shall venture below), it was equally true that there were fewer discomforting weaknesses. Very much of the main burden of the acting was borne by Brian Ludlow and he is to be warmly commended, not least for the way he surmounted the formidable mass of sheer hard work and application which the part of Galileo Galilei demanded. His performance was one of sincerity and conviction - a very intelligent re-creation of a Galileo devastatingly 'right' and logical, and with more than hint of arrogance and impatient contempt. There can be no doubt that he well earned the Parents' Association Drama Group Prize awarded for his performance

Yet one was also very conscious of how monotonous much of his delivery was, how "wooden" and uneasy much of his movement. Was this merely the result of giving an overwhelmingly large part to a totally (as I gather) inexperienced actor? I do not think so -partly because there was so much in his performance that was good, and partly because I was left with the same impression by so many of the cast; l hasten to say that I mention Ludlow in this respect only because the prominence of his role made the impression in his case that much stronger. And here, it seems to me, lies the pointer to the comparative weakness and disappointment of the play,

Brecht's cultivation of the "estrangement effect" (Verfremdungseffekt) (of never letting the audience forget that it is only a presentation they are watching, of deliberately discouraging them from personal and emotional involvement with the drama) inevitably throws a far greater strain upon the purely technical resources of the actors. For if it is to be a performance for detached-watching (rather than a performance-for-sharing-and-feeling), then every ounce of professional skill and technical expertise is needed to carry it off and hold the audience's interest. And, of course, this is precisely the point at which most amateur actors and especially schoolboy actors) are bound to be weakest. Emotions they have no less than the professional - but, so far from making unattainable emotional demands, The Life of Galileo provides very little at all worthwhile that the cast could "bite on" with their emotional resources.

These difficulties are aggravated by the style of the writing, which might with justice be described as didactic and dull. And is the intellectual content which the play claims really so very searching or profound, really worth the great length and all the paraphernalia? I grant that in a highly skilled professional production (which the author probably had in mind) these weaknesses, this barrenness of truly absorbing ideas can be largely concealed, which, in a backhanded sort of way, makes me the more grateful to the producers and the cast for the revolution, and more sympathetic towards the difficulties of extracting good red blood from this particular geological exhibit. All one's feelings about this play and it character are perhaps best clarified by a comparison with Robert Bolt's A Man for All Seasons, produced at the School two years earlier. Outwardly the two plays are very similar: but when one reflects upon Bolt's genuine interest in personality, and upon the irresistible involvement in issues of principle brought about by the sympathy, warmth and immediacy of his writing, then it is that the basic failure of Brecht's play (a failure even to be drama) becomes acutely apparent.

H.W. Winter