April 30, 2008
I (and thousands of others) owe a great debt to Alan Turing. It can be strongly argued that he, with help, shortened World War II by two years because his amazing mind led the team of people who cracked the Enigma codes at Bletchley Park and enabled the Allies to anticipate Nazi strategy. So why, having become Churchill’s friend, with an OBE in his desk drawer, and aged only 41, did he kill himself?
Hugh Whitemore’s brilliant dramatisation of Turing’s life takes us from Sherbourne School in the twenties, where Turing met his first love, through his time at Cambridge and Princeton universities, where his theories took shape, on to Bletchley, with its wonderful, eccentric minds (including the beautiful woman who fell in love with him and stayed that way until his death), and finally, to a desperate affair that began in a dirty Manchester pub and ended in court. Having saved us from Nazi Germany, he was ostracised and vilified by us, because he was stupid enough to freely confess his homosexuality. It’s a wonderful homage to an extraordinary man and a furious indictment of the hypocrisy of the society that he saved from occupation, and I was saddened to hear one audience member at the interval comment that there was “Too much of the sordid stuff, and not enough about the war”.
Bruce Walton does well to bring Alan Turing credibly to life; his task is huge (on stage throughout) and the intellectual gymnastics are demanding. I wanted more passion and relish for his work, and I should have sympathised with his emotional turmoil more, but energy and focus were strong all evening.
Peter Bloor’s spare set design works well, but fussy directing of this episodic play means that scene changes take far too long and the pace of the story is often lost. The pre-show and interval music was too quiet, the house lights were too bright, and the stage lighting was unflattering, but the substantial first night audience readily lapped up the mesmerising story being told. Even an unfortunate accident to a member of the cast, forcing the director to step in at an hour’s notice, couldn’t upset a slick, professional production of a superb script. I walked away grateful; to Alan Turing, to Hugh Whitemore, and to the brave choice of a vital play by a committed group of people.
Hugh Whitemore’s brilliant dramatisation of Turing’s life takes us from Sherbourne School in the twenties, where Turing met his first love, through his time at Cambridge and Princeton universities, where his theories took shape, on to Bletchley, with its wonderful, eccentric minds (including the beautiful woman who fell in love with him and stayed that way until his death), and finally, to a desperate affair that began in a dirty Manchester pub and ended in court. Having saved us from Nazi Germany, he was ostracised and vilified by us, because he was stupid enough to freely confess his homosexuality. It’s a wonderful homage to an extraordinary man and a furious indictment of the hypocrisy of the society that he saved from occupation, and I was saddened to hear one audience member at the interval comment that there was “Too much of the sordid stuff, and not enough about the war”.
Bruce Walton does well to bring Alan Turing credibly to life; his task is huge (on stage throughout) and the intellectual gymnastics are demanding. I wanted more passion and relish for his work, and I should have sympathised with his emotional turmoil more, but energy and focus were strong all evening.
Peter Bloor’s spare set design works well, but fussy directing of this episodic play means that scene changes take far too long and the pace of the story is often lost. The pre-show and interval music was too quiet, the house lights were too bright, and the stage lighting was unflattering, but the substantial first night audience readily lapped up the mesmerising story being told. Even an unfortunate accident to a member of the cast, forcing the director to step in at an hour’s notice, couldn’t upset a slick, professional production of a superb script. I walked away grateful; to Alan Turing, to Hugh Whitemore, and to the brave choice of a vital play by a committed group of people.