Benjamin Britten was not the easiest person with whom to form an attachment, much less a friendship and to work for, but Imagen Holst, a focussed, determined and eccentric woman with an outstanding musical pedigree, persevered in the matter and remained close at hand until his death.
A gratifying and captivating tribute to two outstanding individuals
Mark Ravenhill’s delightful new stage version of his 2013 radio play, now named Ben and Imo, brings together Samuel Barnett and Victoria Yeates in this microscopic two-hander at the always stunning Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond.
Imo enters the music room of Britten’s Aldeburgh house where they tentatively explore the boundaries of her position as what can loosely be described as his assistant along with the even more vague financial remuneration, terms and conditions she might expect. It sets the tone for the ups and downs of the ensuing volatile relationship. With some lack of self-certainty Britten has given way to his ego and accepted the commission to compose an opera in honour of Elizabeth II’s accession to the throne. The deadline places them both under pressure.
Barnett captures Britten’s mood swings: at times nervous and unsure of himself with a rather pubic schoolboy demeanor in need of comfort and support, then raging and demanding particularly in the second act where he becomes far more uncomfortably aggressive and distasteful. Yeates shows that Imo is a force to be reckoned with and a person prepared to commit herself wholeheartedly to a task, as she did with her father, Gustav’s work, in her teaching at Dartington and would go on to do in influencing the Aldeburgh Festival. Yet she never denies her humanity and on occasion lets us in beneath the often stern and always coping exterior to reveal that she too has feelings.
Under the sensitive direction of Erica Whyman they give careful attention to pace and timing. This is especially noticeable in the many witty and light-hearted moments. Expressing high hopes for the newly formed Arts Council now seems amusingly wishful thinking. Revelations about Britten’s loathing of dance hit hard on Frederick Ashton and I’d go back again to just hear Barnett deliver his line on Ninette de Valois. These moments and others also give subtle historical context to the creation of Gloriana.
The creative team has done a fabulous job in creating the setting for this piece. Soutra Gilmour’s design centres around the baby grand, with just a music rack, drinks trolley, armchair and a standard lamp on a floor covering of pastel blue carpet. Scene changes are marked by a turn of the revolve and accompanied by coastal sounds courtesy of Carolyn Downing and musical passages from Conor Mitchell played by Connor Fogel. It’s all very homely yet functional.
Watching the progress of the project unfold and their relationship develop provides a fascinating focus, though the piece is perhaps a little over-extended with a somewhat jarring and abrupt change of tone in the second half, but otherwise it’s a gratifying and captivating tribute to two outstanding individuals.
