‘He was uncompromising in the right way’
Sean Holmes, director, The Sea (2000), Saved (2011) and The Chair Plays (2012)
When I was directing The Sea at the Minerva, Chichester, I went to visit him at home. The bottom half of his house was gloomy and covered by trees, with a low, dark ceiling – what you’d expect of Edward Bond. Then he took me upstairs to a rooftop room and as we went up, there was a peacock on the windowsill. The upstairs was full of light, colour and plants and he had peacocks in his garden. That was Edward: he was both things.
He was uncompromising in the right way. It came from a place of purity and the pursuit of something rigorous and concrete. When we did Saved and then The Chair Plays at the Lyric Hammersmith, he was in 80-90% of rehearsals and the entire organisation had the most creative experience. When I heard he had died, one of the people I texted was Claire Bryan who is still the stage manager at the Lyric. I immediately thought of her because I know she will never forget the six months we had with Edward. We all raised our game because he expected it. And he expected it because he believed you can’t have democracy without drama. He believed it was vital and important.
There was one evening rehearsal when we did the famous stoning of the baby scene. He asked if he could lead it. He took everyone through it and explained that no one at the start of the scene is going to stone a baby. No one has even thought of it. There are 60 or 70 events in those 10 pages that result in the stoning.
Watching him talk through it with the young cast was beautiful and it stayed with me. I’m currently doing King Lear in Tokyo and I keep telling the actors that Cornwall and Regan at the start of the play are not going to pull anyone’s eyes out. But in the same way, one thing leads to another and suddenly we’re in hell.
Edward said: “As far as I know, no group of youths has ever stoned a baby. It’s not documentary. It’s a metaphor. If you oppress the poorest people, if you bully the weakest people, they will search out those weaker than them to bully and oppress.”
As you tighten the production, you always lose time between first preview and press night but with Saved, we added half an hour. He was like: “No, the silences aren’t long enough. They’re not painful enough.” And again, he was right.
Before press night, we were sitting on the stage of the Lyric. I did the “fight them on the beaches” speech that you do on press night, then asked him if he wanted to say anything. He went round every single person and described a thing they did in the show he really liked. Everything he said was spot on. It was very honest and generous of him. I looked at them all and thought: “They’re going to smash press night. There will be no nerves because Edward Bond believes in them.” And they did a brilliant performance that night.
‘He liked being controversial and to make audiences think’
Marianne Faithfull, actor, Early Morning (1968)
I had played Irina in Chekhov’s Three Sisters with Avril Elgar and Glenda Jackson at the Royal Court in 1967. I think Edward knew me through William Gaskill, the Court’s artistic director, who was a great friend of mine. Early Morning was very controversial, but I thought it was wonderful. Edward was great. I don’t know why he had a reputation for being unapproachable because I don’t remember him like that. I remember him as a nice writer.
The play had been banned by the Lord Chamberlain’s office and was visited by the police on the first night. I thought it was stupid and everyone knew it was stupid. The Lord Chamberlain’s office was finished, it was nearly over, thank goodness.
I was playing Florence Nightingale who was in a lesbian relationship with Queen Victoria played by Moira Redmond, but I didn’t really care about the controversy. I guess that’s what Edward wanted. He liked being controversial and to make the audience think.
It was a very good time for the Court and for me as well to be involved in that moment. The atmosphere was exciting and people knew something was happening. It was one of the best times of my life. So much was going on and I was involved. I loved it. I don’t know if I felt Early Morning was part of a movement of a young generation of people changing the world, but I think it probably was.
‘An artist in the true sense’
Tanya Moodie, actor, The Chair Plays (2012)
I like spiky and difficult people because I’m irrepressibly jolly and I challenge myself to break through whatever walls are up. Edward would come across as curmudgeonly and I would say something like: “Oh come on now, why don’t you turn that frown upside down?” I treated him like he was my uncle. I had an incredible affection towards him and also a respect.
If you care and persevere, then with age comes wisdom. He was one of those people. When I found out he’d passed away, I did think: “Oh, I’ve lost Peter Brook and Peter Hall and now Edward.” I’ve worked with these people who, when you’re in their presence, communicate everything, the weight of their whole experience.
As an actor, I loved every single word. The imagery in his plays creates an oppressive environment, but even though they were dark, the characters were complex and nuanced. I imagine it’s like being a musician playing in a symphony, something you slip right into. It was so smooth. Nothing felt forced. Nothing felt overly cerebral. I never felt drained or taxed energetically. There was something inherently hopeful.
He was very quiet and wasn’t always doing starry things. He just did the work. He was an artist in the true sense.
‘He had a brilliant ear for comedy’
Simon Callow, actor, Restoration (1981)
He assembled a group of actors, including me, Irene Handl and Philip Davis to perform Restoration at the Royal Court. It is a little bit politically incoherent, but brilliantly conceived and the writing is superlative. We thought it was a wonderful play, but as a director, we couldn’t please him at all. He believed there was only one way to do his plays and that he had the key to it. But unlike Brecht, who was both a remarkable playwright and a master of theatrical arts, Edward was not and that was a tension that prevailed throughout his career.
However, I did get glimpses of another man. I discovered that underneath this severity, he was stage-struck. He was an avid lover of the theatre but his principles forced him to deny its sensuous pleasure.
I do think he was an extraordinary playwright. His range was remarkable. He was also a brilliant comic writer. I appeared in his play Narrow Road to the Deep North in Edinburgh years before I met him. It is fabulously funny. He manages brilliantly to modulate from the comedy to the tragedy at the end of the play. If he had wanted to make a living out of sitcom, he had a brilliant ear for comedy.
He was a poet, a deeply imaginative writer and someone who was in touch with profound creative juices. I admired him so much and I wish I hadn’t found him so impossible.
‘Uncomfortable, eccentric and essential’
Richard McCabe, actor, Bingo (2012)
He was one of our major writers despite the disdain he was often treated with in his own country. I first did Bond at drama school. What struck me immediately, and subsequently when I did Bingo at the Young Vic, is how he doesn’t waste a single syllable. He is a very precise writer. Every word is considered and weighted. This makes his plays very dense. This is challenging to audiences who more often than not prefer their theatre to be easily accessible and prettily packaged. They require focus and concentration.
He is the apotheosis of a type of leftwing polemical theatre and writer that sadly don’t seem to exist any more. Uncomfortable at times, eccentric at times, but full of matter, thought-provoking and essential. Theatre will be the poorer for the absence of him digging the establishment in the ribs.
