Over eight vibrant years as artistic director, Robert Hastie has set many a winning wonder upon the glorious Crucible stage – the uplifting Standing At The Sky’s Edge, for example, and the ingenious Rock, Paper, Scissors, playing simultaneously at Sheffield’s three adjoining theatres as actors sprint across to perform scenes in each. Now, Rob’s final production before handing the artistic reins to Elizabeth Newman, is Chariots of Fire. In this gently told story, the major challenge is, of course, to put Olympic races onstage and make them impressive and engaging, but The Crucible is certainly the best place for it, and thanks to super theatricality, super-energetic commitment from the cast and a rousing, joyous finale, Mr Hastie triumphs again. The iconic 1981 film of Chariots of Fire, memorable for the uniqueness of its joyous music and captivating drama, earned awards and nominations galore. Best original screenplay went to screenwriter, actor and erstwhile Z-Cars cop, the late Colin Welland, while the film’s melodic flow of electronic music earned best original score for Greek composer, Vangelis. Based on the film, shooting draft and Welland’s original draft, Mike Bartlett’s stage adaptation was first staged in London in 2012. Like in the film we touch upon big issues as we head towards the 1924 Paris Olympics, without plumbing any to profound, anguished, soul-searching depths – class and racial prejudice, xenophobia, patriotism, duty, personal identity and religious commitment – and the play poses questions, too, about the value, motivations and purpose of sport and of winning, and indeed, of life itself. Onstage, the story, largely true though tweaked, as in the film, for dramatic purposes, unfolds simply and straightforwardly through scenes, narrative and minimal props to tell the tale of two fast runners from unlikely roots, Scotsman and devout Christian, Eric Liddell, and Jewish Englishman, Harold Abrahams, their personal dilemmas increasing as they make a bid for Olympic glory and/or the glory of God. Ben Stones’ imposing set is the biggest star, the impact of its vast, white expanses striking the eye at once. A broad, white balcony with slim, white columns beneath, travels the width of the thrust stage and on to the walls at either side; the raked aisles, too, are lined with broad white, while a heavy wall of white runs round the middle of the entire auditorium as a continuous corridor, all creating arena-style performance spaces as for Hastie’s 2017 Julius Caesar. Atop the onstage wooden parquet floor, fabulously reminiscent of gyms of yesteryear, sit period coat-peg-locker stands, wooden vaulting horse and other equipment. The floor and its ring of short, black treadmills fill with energetic bodies, pounding, training and straining frequently and from the word go. As the stage revolves and lit-up Olympic Games’ dates wind us back through history, athletes in modern kit change over and eventually land us back with the white vests, long shorts and leather running shoes of exactly 100 years ago. Nice. As gym equipment, straining bodies and minimal props come and go, we travel very simply to other locations: the railway station where posh-talking boys from Eton and Repton in stripy blazers and boaters arrive as Cambridge freshers; the college with its pompous, black-gowned, narrow-minded masters, to Eric Liddell’s Scotland, onto a ship and off to the Games. The newly created spaces, revolving stage, neat strips of lighting and crowd-scenes play major roles in the theatrical spectacle of the play, with races staged as dashes round the white corridor and aisles, pounded out on treadmills or, sometimes, providing contrasts of frozen movement and slow-motion countdowns. Handsome costumes in fine array evoke 1920’s ladies and gents, though it’s bemusing, yet practical, to have multi-role characters retain shorts, socks and running shoes below whilst sporting non-sporting garb above – such as the bowler-hat and jacket of a college porter. The so, so vital music, composed/arranged here by Frew, is never obtrusive and works splendidly in retaining the familiar percussive beat, the uplifting melody and the heart-thrilling, joyous majesty of triumphant, electronic thrum and pulse. Hymns (sung in more modern vocal mode) evoke 1920’s Cambridge academia and a wider religious commitment, while fun pours into conjuring up some am-dram Penzance Pirates’ frolics. Liddell, the gentle, principled, steadfast runner, who puts God’s glory above all else, is portrayed with laudable credulity by Michael Wallace, and the more prickly, unsettled Abrahams is pleasingly portrayed by Adam Bregman as he pushes on through the layers of ever-lurking prejudice. Cropping up, almost in passing, are their romantic relationships, Liddell’s with Canadian Florence MacKenzie (beautifully played by Chanel Waddock) and Abrahams’ with the Gilbert-and-Sullivan-singing Sybil Evers (Bessy Ewa). Fellow fresher to Abraham and another athlete in these times of ad hoc, amateur training, is Aubrey Montague, played shy and endearing by Tom Glenister, while Benjamin Westerby has fine stage presence as Lord Andrew Lindsay, narrow-minded and privileged but also affable and generous – and able to clear a hurdle without spilling champagne from glasses perched precariously at either end. As Liddell’s bagpipe-playing friend and helper, Sandy, Ciaran Stewart brims with fine, shining optimism and bonhomie, BSL signing used widely in his scenes. The quietly confident, affable Sam Mussabini, coach to Abrahams, is played in cream suit and boater by Waleed Elgadi, conveying patient resignation to the fact that, as a person of “foreign” parentage, he’ll always be adversely viewed as an outsider. Richard Cant and Mark Lockyer make their presence nicely felt as two poshly-spoken, be-gowned college masters, expounding the narrow-minded, prevailing ethos and attitudes of the day, and their other multi-role characters come strongly to life too. Another gifted multi-roller is Leo Wan who brings dignity and comedy to David, Prince of Wales (and his princely penchant for ladies with American accents) while going all out for laughs in his tipsy manservant role. Humour features well in the play, Iverson Yabut’s Kiwi with his carefully placed “accint” providing more laughs, while the ubiquitous blonde-haired Sally Frith goes from cloth-capped Colin and amusing waiter to run her highly athletic socks off...
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