An Itinerant Mind

An Inspector Called

Last night I went to see a production of J.B. Priestley's 'An Inspector Calls', with eldest son, (who hadn't seen it before), and a colleague from work who loves the play. Pleased to say that eldest son guessed correctly that the Inspector was 'not of the ordinary' quite early on. Work colleague complained that two of their favourite lines might have been missed, though I pointed out that due to the set, which was very unusual, hearing some of the earlier dialogue clearly was somewhat difficult.

Centre stage was a house on a platform. It looked like a two-storey house but the door was small - so everyone had to duck to exit or enter. The house then opened out, and inside was a rather small dining room that took up the whole space. There was a metal spiral staircase that could be snapped into position to allow the actors to descend to the stage. Later the whole thing tipped forwards with some unexpected fireworks and bangs, making for an exciting climax as the family lay about the stage - devastated by their ordeal. Several phone calls were made - from an elderly and badly damaged telephone box at the edge of the stage - a slightly surreal touch as they were clearly being made from within the house.

The lighting was excellent - one of my long time interests has been how events (discos, plays, presentations etc.) are lit. Here a particularly strong white light was used to good effect backlighting the Inspector and illuminating the Birling family. They were compelled to speak the truth (eventually and reluctantly in Mrs. Birling's case) and the supernatural was indicated but not made explicit.

The only complaint I had and have afterwards is that my poor knees are complaining bitterly about having been in a cramped position for nearly two hours.