Under Milk Wood, NT at Home, ★★★★★

As a proud Welshman, I’m always partial to a bit of Under Milk Wood. Those alluring lyrical phrases as time passes by each beautiful memory, of this sleepy Welsh village by the sea. So I was gutted not to be able to get a ticket to experience my fellow Welsh ensemble recreating this magical world on the Olivier stage, earlier this year. 

To be honest with you, it’s about time I had a rant about the ridiculous ticketing tiers of the supposedly accessible-to-all National Theatre. When I first moved to London, (nearly fifteen years ago) I always managed to buy reasonably priced tickets for the previews, or upper back seats of the Olivier. And I really didn’t mind where I sat, as I could clearly see all the stage from any seat (take note Lord Webber and his production team on his bad Cinderella!) But now, you have to study the long-list of release dates before you can even attempt to buy one. By the time the company and cast, then friends and funders, have all pre-nabbed their allocation, (dependent on how much extra money they pay each month to gain exclusive access via the tiers), there’s hardly any tickets left, for the general public. Especially during the pandemic, when the allocation was halved at best. 

It doesn’t seem fair at all, compared to other theatres who don’t receive a fraction of the Arts Council Funding or High Profile legacies of the NT, enough to have a theatre renamed after yourself! Bye bye Mr Cottesloe, hello hello Mr Dorfman! 

There really needs to be an inquiry into these unfair ticketing policies, as they clearly do not work for all. Then, when you finally do get through, they close the sales, to force you to stand in a long daily queue outside the box office, (realistically from 5am) if you want a chance at getting a day seat. It’s doable for the London loonies (including myself (in the past!)) who have nothing better to do with their day (mostly students!) but if you live out-of-town, you can’t plan anything. 

So, then you are lured into yet another money-making decision to buy a monthly or annual subscription to watch an oxymoronic recording of a filmed stage play, on your own TV at home. On one hand, it’s a handy option, if you don’t live in London, but the whole point of true theatre is to be in the same room as the actors, to experience the smells and sounds, the intensity and the imagination of the writer and director, live before your very eyes. Greek or Elizabethan drama never had access to such an option, so if you didn’t get to see Sophocles or Shakespeare’s works performed, then you were stuffed! Unless you could read of course, and unless the play was published, or you could afford the folio! But then a play is as dead as a dodo on page, as it could be on film, unless you do it with careful consideration,  creativity and in conjunction with the original director of the stage production, who is responsible for guiding your eyes to where he wants you to experience the action or feeling or reaction. 

Anyway, enough of my ranting. Despite my preference for a live performance, there was bugger all I could do about it, so I had to compromise on my visit to LlaReggub this time, and watched the NT at Home filmed version. 

You need to place iconic material such as the words and images of Dylan Thomas in the very capable hands of an actor, who not only understands them, but can breathe life into the piece. The lyrical melodic mass of words from this musical nation needs to be broken up, caressed and delivered with care and clarity, to make them sing beautifully. Thank the Lord for Michael Sheen. 

Bathed, if not drowned in his own visible sweat, this troubled ex-alcoholic and newly created grandson of the Reverend Eli Jenkins, in this new adaptation with 'additional material' by Siân Owen, is absolutely spectacular. Spellbinding and passionate, as was his portrayal of the Man, in National Theatre Wales’ three-day production of The Passion in Port Talbot, which I was lucky enough to experience as many minutes as we were allowed to partake of, ten years ago.

This production starts in a residential home, or a nursing home for residents with dementia. Sheen comes to visit his father Richard Jenkins (Karl Johnson) lost to this cruel illness. Despite his son's anger and determination to see and talk and ultimately seek forgiveness from his father, in this new opening scene, there were subtle hints of the original text and characters, cleverly conveyed by the elderly residents and staff. Through a clever device of an album of old photos and memories, Sheen desperately tries to awaken any kind of emotion or response from his father, who he fears does not even recognise him. Eventually, but totally credibly, enters us into the imagination of Dylan Thomas, as the original tale of this day-in-the-life of the residents of LlaReggub is reborn. 

The brilliance of Sheen’s delivery and handling of the piece, made me see and hear and understand images and words, some of which I’d not registered before. It was all underplayed with a great passion, as if the son was simply telling a story to his father, about their family and the world they both grew up in. Sian Owen’s deep understanding and ability to pull out threads of the original material and tie them into today’s story and events, was equally successful, and added a much greater emotional connection to the material on stage.

Embraced by an equally ageing ensemble of characters, both real and then recreations of the residents of this village, the whole production has an air of fresh quality and vision, on this original radio ‘play for voices’ which has soothed and swayed generations of listeners. 
 
Led by Dame Siân Phillips and other notable Welsh actors like Michael Elwyn, Gaynor Morgan Rees, Gillian Elisa and Ifan Huw Dafydd, it was an unforgettable honour for me to finally see and hear this show, be it only through a second hand televised experience. 

Under Milk Wood, NT at Home, ★★★★★

(but only ★ for the NT's unfair ticketing policy)