A capacity audience for the production by the Tavistock Repertory Company (London) of The Wind in the Willows and, despite the sea fog, a perfect evening on Monday for simply messing about in boats.
After being asked, during the pre-curtain audience warm up, by cigar-smoking Chief Weasel (Martin South) if I was sitting comfortably, and only too aware of Alan Bennett having adapted Kenneth Grahame’s classic riverbank tale, I felt in my Minack bones that I was in for something special.
In the event, although the company had navigational problems in getting certain objects off rather than on stage and, on occasion, were literally in a stew, but nothing some smooth ad-libbing couldn’t sort out, it was more than special. Directed by Penny Tuerk it was totally enchanting.
An affectionate adaptation of the original, a long way from A A Milne’s and so charming it’s certain to increase the membership of every animal protection organisation there is, Albert (Marcus Toulmin-Rothe) alone was a treasure, with his admission that he doesn’t mind either the sunrise or the sunset - it’s what’s in between that depresses him - making irresistible horse sense.
So, too, did Alan Bennett’s other amusing references, everything from his nostalgic look at this country when it was a caravan to the threat of actors’ one-man shows and theme parks.
Extremely well played by all concerned (the part played by its costumiers and set designers and builders deserves an award in itself), while Mole (David Taylor), Rat (John Cornwell), Badger (Brice Pitt) and Weasel Norman (Richard Willis), in particular, were excellent and coped well with the formidable challenge presented by the many delightful baby animals of all kinds, it was, and as it should have been, Toad (Robert Reeve) who carried the day or evening and sent me shouting "Poop-Poop!" all the way home.