The Welsh poet and write Dylan Thomas was born on 27 October 1914 and died on 9 November 1953, a victim of his own excesses. In that brief life, he created some of the most lyrical poetry in the English language, word-heavy so much so that some critics argued it was over-verbose. Most readers and, importantly, listeners, disagree with this as the sounds that he put together draw you in, the images are so wonderful and yet his intent is never deliberately obfuscated.
As you may expect from this style of writing, in addition to poetry he was an accomplished writer of prose.
The seeds of his radio play Under Milk Wood were sown in his teenage years and parts of it, including some of the characters, appeared in various forms over the next 20 years. Finally, he started to piece together the full play and performed the first half as a solo piece in March 1953. With a deadline looming, Thomas added more content and performed a full version in May, with some of the play being completed just an hour before the performance. He continued to work in it over the summer, but without really changing too much. He delivered a version to the BBC in October 1953 and then went to the USA where further versions were performed. He was visibly very ill during this time and died in New York during that trip.
In outline, the play is the day in the life of a fictional Welsh village called Llareggub, which looks Welsh if you don’t know Welsh, but is actually “bugger all” backwards. This is the clue that the play is meant to be funny, and in many places it is. The story is about the village and its inhabitants, starting with their dreams before they wake up and ending as night falls. There are beautiful, lyrical set piece speeches by one of two narrators, the “First Voice” but there is also lots of authentic dialogue. It’s like a modern soap opera but set in a surreal dream version of Coronation Street or Walford. The opening speech by First Voice is classic Thomas:
To begin at the beginning:
It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless
and bible-black, the cobblestreets silent and the hunched,
courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the
sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboatbobbing sea.
Bible-black. Wow. I’m in.
So before I go on, why have I chosen to write about this? Well, earlier this year at my poetry group one of our members, Miriam Harrison, suggested it would be a good idea for us to perform the entire play as a group. Not just as a private reading, but a public one to raise money for a local foodbank. This seemed like a great idea. Soon the Little Theatre in Doncaster was booked, parts allocated and rehearsals began. The first problem was that there is no definitive version. After a bit of false starting with incompatible scripts we agreed on a version and away we went. Without going into too many details, doing this 100 minute play with lots of amateur actors (including me) was not easy. Miriam, who was directing, producing and acting, got a really nasty bug during this time and we all hoped she wasn’t going the way of Thomas, who said “this play has taken the life out of me for now”. There was some trepidation as we discovered the 100 seat theatre was starting to get decent ticket sales. No backing out now.
One advantage of our group is that we have some talented musicians and singers. Adding musical interludes, and actually singing the songs in the script, was a master stroke. Many thanks to Allan Wilkinson for his brilliant musical input.
Fortunately, it was a reading and didn’t have to be memorised. Even so, the reading has to be done properly. The pace varies so much, characterisation is crucial and the jokes have to be timed perfectly. Some people adopted Welsh accents, others didn’t, and nobody sounded “wrong”. Miriam is Welsh, so that at least was perfect for First Voice.
I was cast as the wife-poisoner Mr. Pugh, and ghostly Mr. Pritchard, one of the two dead husbands of Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard. Both parts are a joy to read and Liz McKittrick and Jane Pendlebury made it easier by doing a great job as my “wives”.
On the day we all appeared at the theatre for a Dress Rehearsal. It went very well - could we do it again in the evening? We had heard that only 7 seats were left so I hastily booked one for my wife, who I had assumed would be able to pay as a walk-in. By the time we started the performance it was full. The actual performance went better than the rehearsal - a couple of minor slips here and there but considering we are amateurs they were handled beautifully. We got laughs where the laughs are supposed to be, and we got a standing ovation. And we raised over £1200 for the foodbank. I think Miriam had to lie in a dark room for some time, but she, and we, did Dylan Thomas proud.
So, why is this relevant? Well, immersing yourself so deeply in this play gives you a greater insight than reading it, or listening to it. You feel its power, but you also notice its weaknesses. The fact that the second half was rushed is apparent. It does contain a beautiful scene between Captain Cat and his dead lover, Mrs Probert, but I’m sure had he lived longer Thomas would have redrafted the second half, and the ending. There are some non-PC bits, but it’s pretty mild and not out of place for its time. Nonetheless there’s a reason this work endures, and it’s the fabulous characters and the wonderful use of words.
FIRST VOICE
Now, in her iceberg-white, holily laundered crinoline
nightgown, under virtuous polar sheets, in her spruced and
scoured dust-defying bedroom in trig and trim Bay View, a
house for paying guests, at the top of the town, Mrs
Ogmore-Pritchard widow, twice, of Mr Ogmore, linoleum,
retired, and Mr Pritchard, failed bookmaker, who maddened
by besoming, swabbing and scrubbing, the voice of the
vacuum-cleaner and the fume of polish, ironically swallowed
disinfectant, fidgets in her rinsed sleep, wakes in a
dream, and nudges in the ribs dead Mr Ogmore, dead Mr
Pritchard, ghostly on either side.
If you haven’t read or listened to the whole play I recommend the original BBC version, recorded in 1953 and released in 1954, with Richard Burton narrating. The recent filmed BBC version, with an all-Welsh cast, is worth watching but it is abridged.
Excellently done, Tim.