In conversation with Simon Callow

As our 'In conversation with Simon Callow' has been postponed, Simon has kindly done a short interview with us, talking about some of his favourite theatres.

What role do you see theatres playing in society, and has this changed over your career?

Theatres were always, for me, spaces in which one had a heightened experience. The buildings themselves were so exotic, so evocative, so sumptuous - to a kid who travelled ‘up west’ from suburban Streatham - that before the curtain even went up, I was in a high old state of excitement.

The actors, whether at The Old Vic or in the West End (this was the early to mid-60s), were fabulous creatures; beautiful, elegant, exotic, captivating, sometimes eccentric; their voices insinuating themselves into one’s subconscious; their physical fascination (whether of face or body), stirring. This was especially striking in classical revivals.

Modern plays were often rather vapid, with dazzling exceptions like Alan Bennett’s Forty Years On, or the latest Arthur Miller, complete with American cast.

In researching your new book, London’s Great Theatres, what’s your favourite theatre in the capital?

I have exceptional fondness for the Duke of York’s Theatre, partly because of its flawless acoustics and wonderful sightlines, and its history - Peter Pan was first performed there in 1904.

But for sheer beauty, there are few auditoriums in the world to compare with Edward Barry’s Royal Opera House. It is impossible not to be feel a rush of excitement and expectation on entering it. Its colour scheme (not Barry’s) of pale blue, gold (ceilings and walls) and burgundy (the seats) is simultaneously luminous and rich; the sound is remarkable - and gets better the higher you sit, a rare example of acoustic democracy.

What is your favourite regional theatre as an audience member, or to perform, in and why?

I love any theatre designed by Matcham. They all have a rather festive character, and are all superb from every practical point of view - acoustics and sightlines - and there are many scattered across the land.

Having said that, the theatre outside of London in which I’ve the best recent experience was the rather more modern Leeds Playhouse, where I acted in Matthew Hurt’s brilliant one-man play The Man Jesus. I played 11 characters in it, and the interaction with the audience is paramount and I had the wonderful feeling that one gets in certain Greek amphitheatres that you’re in close proximity to every individual in a large audience.

It’s a very public theatre, but this intimacy was very striking. When I came to the ‘sermon on the Mount’ scene, it was as if Jesus’s listeners were there spread out on the hillside, and that his words were reaching each one of them personally.

What is the relationship between an actor and the audience and how does the auditorium affect this?

A striking or beautiful auditorium affects the audience - some make them feel very close to their neighbours, very much one tight-knit group. Others have a more public feeling, encouraging extrovert behaviour. So, it rather depends on the kind of play one’s in. Above all one wants to feel in direct contact with them.

The director Peter Woods always used to say “Warm the walls, warm the walls”, which is very good advice, but it’s easier with some walls than others, concrete ones for example.

A wooden auditorium, like the wonderful refurbished Lyric Theatre in Belfast, seems to engage with the sound, neither blocking it nor swallowing it. It also has a very witty and original seating layout, asymmetrical without being eccentric, which keeps people both comfortable but wide awake. Too much luxury in a theatre is a little bit dangerous, but austerity is merely cheerless.

Images: top, The Old Vic; middle, Leeds Playhouse; lower, Lyric Belfast