Olivier Awards 2017

“One more year in Yorkshire, January, February, April, May, September and July...” Does Gary Barlow not know his months? Blimey, opening with that song, it was going to be a long night. And it was...

As per usual, the Oliviers muck it up royally. I’m happy enough with the awards given the shortlist, but by god did they muck up the shortlist, and then, well, the three certainties in life are death, taxes and a bad Oliviers ceremony.

Let’s start with how they mucked it up on the TV – we Brits just can’t do awards, can we? The Baftas are always laughable, but they make the Oliviers look good – and lest we forget, the 2017 British Film Awards, celebrating predominantly American cinema, began by filling a music hall with a French circus. The key difference between the Tonys and the Oliviers is that self-doubt hasn’t reached the Tonys yet. Yes, the Tonys celebrate only a few square kilometres of theatre, but when Neil Patrick Harris says theatre isn’t just for the gays or the Jews or the sad embittered malcontents who write the reviews, but is for the kid in the middle of nowhere who’s sitting there living for Tony performances, no-one rolls their eyes. Here, Jason Manford let us know he’s overweight, so that kid in the middle of nowhere can go suck it, they ain’t famous. There, musicals are art. Here, we still portray musicals as naff expensive events, even as we celebrate Murder Ballads and Threepenny Operas. So if you’re not from one of a handful of London theatres, you’re dirt. Hell, here if you’re not in Angels in America, you’re dirt. I wish that weren’t true, but look at how they introduced these grand stars of theatre. How lovely would it have been to make reference to Nathan Lane’s being involved in The Frogs at a London theatre. But no. How lovely would it have been to make reference to Charlotte Richie’s being involved in The Philanthropist at one of SOLT’s smaller but still-nominated theatres. But no. How lovely would it have been to make reference to Cush Jumbo’s being involved in Common at perhaps SOLT’s biggest theatre. But no.

It’s the small moments that are the most telling – for some weird reason they’d roped in Rose Leslie to give an award, and introduced her as “an actress making a splash in Game of Thrones”. Would, um, “an actress making a splash in Game of Thrones, most recently seen in an exciting new play at the Sheffield Crucible” have been more relevant? Have been more informative? Have promoted theatre? But no. I don’t think anyone involved knew. I don’t think anyone involved actually cares. About any theatre.  ITV. Primetime(ish). SOLT may be the Society of LONDON Theatre, but it’s been given an advert to tell the whole nation “No, theatre isn’t the snobby expensive London luvvie event you think it is – look at the biggest London theatre, the starriest London theatre, the best London theatre, it’s shows in Sheffield, No Man’s Land on tour and in cinemas, TCAABR from the fringe, The Girls in Yorkshire, Perpetual Succour in Scotland, it’s theatre of the regions, local to you”. What an inspiring, populist message to effortlessly give on a relatively broad scale! And instead, let alone forgetting London theatre’s (inter)nationality (without which it both creatively and financially dies), the Society of London Theatre forgets to mention a great actress like Cush Jumbo appearing at London’s National Theatre. Usually they just neglect regional and fringe theatre. This year they neglect their own! It’s pathetic.

Prize-wise, they were fine, given the cruddy nominees. I can’t get over some horribly egregious omissions (more in a sec), and of course smaller but superior shows like The Flick were always going to be overshadowed, but... Actually, let me swallow my pride and anger over omissions and deep deep love for particularly The Flick and say you know what? Potter deserved them all. Like Latecomer said – it’s a load of people whose work we’ve loved in the past doing their best work, so what if it’s populist? You put someone like John Tiffany at the helm (someone who, a few years ago, was more of an industry secret when he deservedly won for Black Watch), and give him loads of money and six hours, and of course he’ll deserve best director! He’ll pick the best collaborators and give them all that money and time, so clearly Potter deserved every single technical award possible. Jack Thorne writes it, so the script is (if knotty and plotty and less than Annie Baker) witty, sensitive, and genuinely brings big themes of little lives to larger-than-life characters in the humanising way only theatre can. And Noma and Jamie are just great actors – and hey, when Jamie Parker wins another Olivier in two or three years (more deserved, only a matter of time), then this one will be Harry’s, and that one will be ‘his’ Olivier. It’s impossible to begrudge so many great talents doing such great work going rewarded, other than churlishness towards the childishness of Rowling’s twenty-year-old children’s book.

After Potter, I didn’t love Yerma – a flimsy and psychologically shallow interpretation of a problematic play simply to get some (admittedly terrific) Dogme grandstanding in as it ends – but Billie Piper’s been deservedly validated as the extraordinary actress that she is. And hey, if Rebecca Trehearn won, something is right in the world.

The problem is the nominations themselves are bullsh*t, which made this prizes no more than the best of a bad bunch. A ‘best cast’ category would have seen the Perpetual Succour girls, and indeed The Girls, face up against The Flick trio and the Chekhov trilogy, deservedly; no ‘best cast’ category makes those cast nominations laughable. Not nominating Danny Sapini, or Yael Farber, or Les Blancs, reeks of ‘not famous enough’/’we’ve forgotten that, it was almost a year ago’. And the Genie! The most obvious and deserving winner! What?!?!?!

But there are two particularly unforgivable, frankly stupid omissions. Let’s start with Lazarus, though not for the award(s) you think. Best new musical? Possibly. Best supporting actress/actor? Absolutely. But ‘Outstanding Achievement in Music’? The one won a few years ago by Ray Davies, for doing nothing new but having once written the Ray Davies songbook? DAVID BOWIE wrote a musical from the David Bowie songbook. He even wrote kick-ass brand new music. Ignoring the headline-grabbing, wish-fulfilling, undoubtedly emotional moment that would have come from giving the late great man his much-desired theatre award, he deserved it. The Oliviers have implicitly said Ray Davies is better than David Bowie, and explicitly said that Lord Lloyd Webber’s 9-year-olds are. How was THAT back-catalogue NOT NOMINATED AT ALL?

But (moralising) I think they got not only best actress and best director, but the special award, completely wrong (also caveat – I also got it completely wrong, THIS was the best show of 2016). I think that in years to come we’ll realise just how significant Julius Caesar turned out to be, then how gloriously The Tempest wrapped up our years of personal investment in such a political way. In a year when Emma Rice did what she did so well, where Michelle Terry has that prosthetic in Cleansed only to go to Henry V, and where King Lear is one of our four best actresses, an all-female The Tempest almost feels old-hat – though that really is because Julius Caesar now IS old hat, as all things once new grow old. It’s worth saying that whilst Rice and Maxine Peake and Deborah Warner probably would have pushed for these shows and gender-bending regardless of Phyllida Lloyd, plenty wouldn’t (I don’t think Posh would have, and I have my doubts about Henry V). It’s worth saying, though, that those shows got off scott-free, whereas there was something about Julius Caesar that touched such a techy nerve that meant it bore the brunt of reviews comparing it to dancing dogs (let alone reliable Tim Walker), so these later shows came with barely a batted eye (or less frequently batted but still batted eyes, and instead more nuanced comments on the subject). It’s worth saying, after all that, that Julius Caesar was simply amazing – then Henry IV was pretty close – then The Tempest was amazing again. As Caesar developed into The Tempest, though, I think its least interesting aspect is its treatment of gender. Throughout the trilogy, the diversity of everything BUT gender – age, race, nationality, body type, even professionalism – is more radical, more novel, and hopefully more influential too – if Dame Harriet Walter can be Leah Harvey’s father, any comments about the validity of diversity and ethnicity (of which 2016 saw too many) seem even more ludicrous, even less grounded in any kind of reality. Even in this year’s nomination for Glenda, let alone the way most all-female/cross-casting is now a non-event, I think we saw some validation of 2013’s initial influential work; but what these shows were ultimately about was the way in which theatre not only can, but MUST, connect with people from every corner in every situation, must be available to all, must speak to and be given to those in need. Perhaps it’s simply too soon to judge whether it’ll leave the impact I hope, in which case it merely deserved best actress for Walter and best director for Lloyd for being so good; but what Sir Ken did (love him as I do) was a decent West End season, whereas what Lloyd and Walter did was deconstruct any ideas that these plays need to be done in a West End way. Branagh will come back to the theatre and be wonderful-as-always in three, five, ten years, and can deservedly have his award then – what Lloyd and Walter did now deserves adulation.

Ultimately, though, the Oliviers are nothing but a technical exercise and a masturbatory advert. This year they were a bad technical exercise and bad masturbatory advert. Recently, it has been exciting to see the best shows, SOLT theatres and awards attention overlap, and thus to see Robert Icke win for Oresteia or van Hove for View from the Bridge. This year, it was kind of nice to see actors like Freddie Fox and Kate O’Flynn and particularly Jamie Parker – actors we’ve admired since smaller shows for some years now – getting in on this game, finally. And hey, if we do take these as simply an advert, why not advertise theatre to the world via Harry Potter, the stunning end-result of great theatrical collaborations which just so happened to take place under the Harry Potter banner? But a) what cocked-up nominees with which to surround this advert, and b) what a cocked-up ceremony to use as your advert. Good job, Oliviers. You’ve done it again.