Waves crash out of sight; the wind whips up shingle and stirs buried secrets. On stage, the storm brews between Benjamin Britten and Imogen Holst. It’s 1953, and England’s eminent composer is writing Gloriana, an opera to mark the new Elizabethan age.
Holst has been conscripted to help with the process, but her enthusiastic expertise is not welcomed. (“I never wanted you,” cuts Samuel Barnett’s Britten with icy honesty.) Holst (Victoria Yeates) is very jolly hockey sticks in the face of this unpleasantness, drawing on her experiences supporting her father, Gustav Holst, as she comforts another tortured genius.
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Barnett and Yeates are magnetic in Mark Ravenhill’s Ben and Imo, the two-hander play that recently moved from Stratford’s Swan Theatre to Richmond’s Orange Tree Theatre. We surround a piano, scattered manuscript, a book. Barnett spits insults: “Gussie” was a second-rate composer; Imo should stop “prattling”. We’re immediately Team Holst.
It’s well documented that Britten and Holst – the titular Ben and Imo – had regular disagreements throughout their long collaboration. Were they as tempestuous as Ravenhill’s passionate dialogue suggests? Unlikely. It’s difficult to imagine someone as strait-laced as Britten employing such Malcolm Tucker-worthy insults.
Nor too, is it probable that Holst was as charming as Yeates’s excellent portrayal. If this was a Netflix drama, there might be a disclaimer that within this true story ‘scenes have been added for dramatic purposes’. As this is a play, no such addition is necessary; everything is at the service of drama.