The Diver - Soho Theatre, 25^th June 2008

Wimbledon has been educating us on how to keep pigeons away: you hire a hawk (presumably with attendant hawker). Eltham Railway station needs similar attention. You need to examine the guano-stained platform in order to work out where it is safe to stand. I think it is entirely possible that the station was designed by a pigeon; certainly at least a pigeon-fancier. Come to think of it, perhaps it is actually a pigeon loft, and these are all racing pigeons. When I was a boy, carting pigeons around the country was a noticeable task of the railways. Perhaps the Stationmaster hankers after the old days.

The Bexleyheath line is not conducive to theatre-going. One always has to change at Lewisham at that time of the evening. I met some of the old lags there, going to the opening night of ‘Candide’. We got into a misunderstanding about who wrote the ‘book’. They said “Voltaire”. Well, of course; I should have said ‘libretto’. I looked it up when I got back. Turns out it wasn’t just Sondheim, it was also Dorothy Parker, and at least one other whom I’ve now forgotten. Anyway ‘casts of thousands’ in big flash theatres aren’t my scene: I call that ‘Up-West’, and use the term pejoratively.

Having got my ticket sorted, I repaired to the ‘Nellie Dean’, across the road, for a pre-performance pint or two. This still has the feel of a Soho pub. The barmaid explained the frequent use of plastic glasses by telling me that the council insisted on them for people standing outside. “But”, she added, mysteriously, “they only do it to this pub”. Perhaps protection rackets are still alive and well in Soho.

I vowed, after my last visit, that I would never go to the Soho again: a bit too ‘Up-West’ for me. But the synopsis of ‘The Diver’ suggested a hybrid staging of Japanese ‘Noh’ in a western setting, which grabbed my attention. I think they just about pulled it off, despite some of the audience not playing their role properly.

I felt there was a key line in the play: (I’m relying on my notoriously fragile memory for this, so the words may not be entirely accurate, but I’m sure I got the meaning clear) “Does a soul lost in pain just go away?” At the time the line was uttered, it seemed clear which character owned the soul in question, but by the end of the performance, they had developed all the characters sufficiently for us to see that the pain was everywhere, and they all had some searching to do.

The Soho has a unisex loo. Well, it just would, wouldn’t it? I can’t help but feel that your average female must view this as a mixed blessing. The night I was there, the blessing was very mixed: when cloaked in anonymity, some chaps (presumably) seem to have an issue with seat-raising, flushing, etc.

There was no interval, so there was time to get back to the pigeon loft for a few pints. I do actually like to get back to my local to write up my notes when I can. Perhaps it’s just another sign that I’m getting old.