Theatre Royal, Nottingham – until 26 October 2019
Reviewed by Boo Wakefield
3***
Have you heard of Jack Cardiff? I hadn’t. From the impact this play had on my fellow audience, particularly the preponderant older cohort, who rose to their feet in ecstasy and tears and words like “masterclass” at the end, I am certain it would have helped if I had. Indeed, I wish I had, because overall this play didn’t have quite the same impact on me.
Jack Cardiff was the cinematographer behind some of early colour film’s greatest, like The African Queen, Black Narcissus and The Red Shoes. He famously once described his role as being: “the cinematographer works with the director to achieve an atmosphere”. And this play is built around Jack’s lifelong passion for light: the lighting of his stills photography; the Impressionists who painted light over form; and the magic of the prism within vintage film cameras that allowed light to be captured into colour film.
In the first half of the play Jack (Robert Lindsay) is presented as a distressed man suffering from at times quite acute dementia, unable to recognise his own wife Nicola (Tara Fitzgerald) and with little or no short-term memory. Yet the script is laced with the sort of light humour of the sitcoms we are all so familiar with Robert Lindsay. It was a juxtaposition I found slightly uncomfortable. Into this mix is thrown his son, Mason (Oliver Hembrough) whose principal interest is in getting his father to commit his memoires, particularly the more salacious elements of them, to a book for his own gain. He has employed Lucy (Victoria Blunt) as his father’s carer cum secretary but she also has a complicated home life to cope with.
The set comes into its own in the second half as the converted garage the play is based in changes to a scene from The African Queen set in the jungle, one of many memories Clifford slips back into. The pictures on the garage walls of famous actresses Cardiff had once filmed changing to support the story, which were good visual prompts for the story telling.
Prism was partly Robert Lindsay’s idea and he excels in his role switching from comic timing to reminiscing his successful career and his many celebrity conquests to portraying a stream of different emotions. He is complimented by his three fellow actors: Fitzgerald’s raw grief from not being recognised by her dementia-ridden husband was very moving; Hembrough’s strong portrayal as a loving but frustrated son having lived in his father’s shadow all his life; and Blunt’s slightly dippy carer desperate to please to keep her job to her portrayal of Monroe was a joy. A thought-provoking play for the film buffs.