Lights fade to blackout.

What a sensational three days.

In terms of celebrating the history of the Soho Poly, Thursday afternoon - the panel discussion with Michael Billington, Irving Wardle and Michael Coveney - was probably the highlight of the festival.  My reason for saying this is that it is rare for a theatre director to be confronted with a selection of his critics and have all three of them say how much they loved the theatre.  I hope Fred won’t mind me sharing how glad he was to hear those words.  When they came to his productions he welcomed them, handed them a programme and waited with baited breath to read what they thought of the play.  So, to hear once and for all that the theatre had been a success, was something of a relief.  Michael Coveney apologised for consistently giving the productions at the Soho Poly such shining reviews, because the punters beyond the theatre’s capacity of 48 had to be turned away.  And yet, each new play brought a new review, a new flood of nerves and the potential to make or break an artist.

            I knew that a lot of playwrights and actors started their careers at the Soho Poly, but until Michael Billington placed his glasses on his nose and read out an extensive list of names, each one making my eyebrows lift higher and higher, I didn’t realise quite how many.  John Hurt, David Warner, Nigel Hawthorne, Barry Keefe and Caryl Churchill are just a few names that stuck out for me.  I love the story Irving Wardle tells of how Bob Hoskins came to perform at the Soho Poly.  Suffering in a state of despair in the confines of his room, Verity Bargate came to him and told him to bring it all to the stage instead.  Apparently this was quite a turning point for him and, evidently, for his career, too.  Of course David Edgar is also amongst those whose work was performed at the theatre and our evening’s reading of ‘Baby Love’, he said, was like looking back at himself 40 years ago.  It was an utter privilege, as with Robert Holman, to see their work as part of an audience of which they were company.  I had quite a surreal moment, sat on a table at the back directly behind Edgar, in which I thought, “If I had any questions about this play, there would be no need for pondering and chin scratching in the foyer.  Heck, I could just tap him on the shoulder and ask him.”  I got to shake his hand and tell him how much I loved his work, and thank him for being something of a catalyst in the proliferation of creative writing and playwrighting courses in the UK, of which I am a student of one.

The big question of the whole festival has been, “What will happen to the space now?”  and was Michael Billington’s final point at the afternoon discussion.  The answer to this is that there are many possibilities for it, and the sheer volume of support we have for keeping it a theatre is quite overwhelming.  That the space still has the electric energy of a theatre was witnessed by Billington and thankfully, by the wonders of physics, energy never dies, it only transfers.  So we’ll see. 

At the end of the night, walking back to the tube station with Matt, we agreed that the festival has been something quite wonderful in itself and for the immediate future at least, that is celebration enough of what Fred created 40 years ago.  New writing will always find ways to prosper.

“A true writer is a man who, even if he lost all of his fingers, would still find a way to write.”

To those who attended the festival and filled in a postcard with your memories, thoughts and general feedback, thankyou, they have been really lovely to receive.  Please feel free to share your thoughts here on the blog, too, by leaving a comment on this post.


Lydia Thomson.
 

Photo: Nick Coupe