A Phoenix Too Frequent (24 July 1957)

 Based on a 1946 verse play by Christopher Fry. Verse plays were in vogue at the time.

It was shot in Sydney and aired in Melbourne on 11 September 1957.  Paul O'Loughlin directed. The ABC would film it again  in 1966.

Premise

The setting is the tomb of the recently-dead Virilius, near Ephesus. 

Dynamene is the young, grieving widow of Virilus. She is determined to remain in the tomb until she can join her husband in the underworld. With her is her maidservant Doto.

It is two in the morning. They are visited by Tegeus, a soldier who has been put on guard over the bodies of six criminals hanged nearby. He is drawn by the light in the tomb and enters. 

Tegeus has a meal with Dodo who flirts with him. Tegeus is more interested in Dynamene and they fall in love.

They discover that in Tegeus's absence from his post one of the dead bodies has been cut down; this neglect of his duties renders Tegeus liable to court martial. He faces death. Dynamene suggests that they substitute the body of Virilius. Tegeus is appalled, but she persuades him: Dynamene, Tegeus and Doto drink a toast to the memory of Virilius as the play ends.

Cast

• Dinah Shearing as Dynamene
• James Condon as Tegeus
• Audrey Teesdale as Doto

 Original Play

The play debuted in England in 1946. A London production later that year featured Paul Scofield.

I've read the play. Lovely language and some good moments. It wasn't for me though. A lot of talk. Talk, talk, talk. Not amazing characterisation - Doto was a wacky comic relief maid still. (Ah, English middle class writers...) 

I think it's implied the criminal whose corpse goes missing was Jesus. More of that would have been fun.

Other Adaptations

It was adapted for BBC TV in 1946, 1951, 1955 and 1972.

The BBC did it on radio in 1947, 1951 and 1953, among other times. 

It was adapted for Canadian TV in 1955. 

The ABC adapted it for TV later in 1966.

People really liked putting it on. Three hander. A bit of class. 

List of Australian performances on stage are here.

It was performed on Australian radio - for 3AR in 1952 (the review here slags off Australian plays saying "no Australian broadcast play has ever been outstanding and that most of them have not deserved their place on air."). It played on 3LO in 1955.

Production

Thelma Afford did costumes. An article about her process is here.

The ABC Weekly did a thorough article on the production of this play. Rehearsal took place at a studio in Darlinghurst. It was the fourth TV production from Paul O'Louglin who used techniques taught him by Rudi Bretz when Bretz visited Australia the previous year.

Among the lessons from Bretz was using a small "Bretz box" which enabled O'Loughlin to see the action in rehearsal like a camera. The director called it “a useful little gadget. You   can   plot   all   the moves and get them accurate before  the camera rehearsal.” 

 O'Loughlin said "TV has a lot of problems that don't exist either on the stage or in radio. You have to make every point valid in front of the camera and remember that it goes right into the homes of the audience. There’s none of the large illusion of the theatre. And you have to remember all the time that you’re working on a very small stage. You can’t go in for many long shots of crowd scenes, for instance, because the figures look too small to come to life. But you can create wonderfully intimate effects with close-ups in a way that is never possible on the stage. As in radio, you speak right into the ear of the audience; the whole thing is personal and intimate. That distinguishes it from the cinema."

James Condon felt TV was “better than radio because you don’t have to rely on your voice alone. It makes me fee relaxed and confident, too because I can move about. In radio I always feel a compulsion to act physically, but you can’t, or you’d soon be off the mike. TV’s more like the stage in that respect. Yet it’s better than the stage; you are freer. And you have the camera to help you make your points. Facial expression becomes more important.” 

Audrey Teesdale and Dinah Shearing had acted in a production of the play on stage several years previously at the Mercury Theatre. 

It was Teesdale's fourth television play.  She said “I love television, You can be terribly sincere, and the cameras don’t worry me. You can act simply, without the effort of ‘putting it across’ that you have in the theatre.”

The production took six weeks to plan and prepare. There was more than 40 hours of rehearsal, 30 hours in a workshop in Darlinghurst, two hours of dress and make up rehearsal at Gore Hill and seven and a half hoses of camera rehearsal. There was also a performance check lasting an hour before the telecast. During that time Desmonde Dowling designed scenery which was built in the workshop and costumes were designed and Thelma Afford designed the costumers.

 The show was made with a chief technical producer, two camera men, two camera control operators, a boom operator, a sound mixer and a vision mixer. There was a staging supervisor, the two property men, the floor manager, the assistant floor manager and a lighting person. There was also a script assistant, Ruth Page.

The NAA possibly has a radio script. Not on line. See here.
 

“I’ve never had any technical mishaps in any of my productions,” said O’Loughlin, “touch wood. But one time one of the cameras failed pist as we had finished.If it had broken down five minutes sooner the ending of the play would have looked a trifle odd.”

 

The Age 11 Sept 1957

The Age 5 Sept 1957 p 23

The Age 5 Sept 1957 p 16

ABC Weekly 4 Sept 1957 p 10

ABC Weekly 20 July 1957 p 5

 

SMH 24 July 1957 p 6

 

The Age 24 May 1952 (radio review)

ABC weekly Vol. 19 No. 29 (20 July 1957)
The PRIVATE EYE of TV
Camera takes intimate close-ups right into the homes of viewers The play is “A Phoenix 100 Frequent”, by Christopher Fry, ready made for television, with a cast o( three.  

PRODUCER Paul OT ough ■* lin is measuring out the floor at the A.B C.’s TV workshop studios in Darling- hurst. In a lew minutes the rehearsal will begin. “We have to work in a space the same size as the Gore Hill studio where the actual performance is tele vised.’ he explains. He places the substitute properties within this orbit. On the fai side of the studio, the concert grand is shrouded in its off-duty can- vas cover. It is serving as ihe tomb of Viriiius. Dinah Shearing, come to play the grief-stricken young widow Dynamene. prostrates herself against it. Audrey feesdale in black slacks and a bulky white sweater, approaches She is playing Doto. the faithful maid preparing to die w-ith her mistress. 

Producer Paul O’Loughlin, from his pulpit-like rostrum, scrutinises the scene through his private eye.” “Dinah, we must change those moves.” he says. Clblong hole He puts down his private eye and goes over to the piano. I pick up the private eye and examine it. It is a cardboard box ahout four inches square, and covered with black paper. In each of its sides is cut an oblong hole. The largest one is opposite the smallest. I look through each aper- ture in turn and. I can see a section of the studio, as if in a frame. • “Each one represents a camera angle,” Mr. OLough lin explains.

“A distant shot, PAUL O’LOUGHLAN looks through his “private eye” during a rehearsal for a television play. a close-up. and so on. See now how Audrey and Dinah are moving inside the frame? “It’s a useful little gadget. You can plot all the moves and get them accurate before the camera rehearsal.” It was invented by Ameri- can TV producer Rudy Bretz, whom the A.B.C. brought to Australia last year to conduct some of the workshops. Mr. Bretz had each of the A.B.C producers make himself one. Its official name is « a “Bretz box.” 

Oustide the range of the private eye sits James Con- don. cast as the young cor- poral, Tegeus. He studies his lines. Producing a play for tele- vision is quite different from producing one for radio; or for the stage. 

Paul O’Loughlin makes his comparisons from experience. The Phoenix is his fourth television production, and his radio productions cover the past 22 years, since he joined the staff of the A.B.C. One of those years he spent in London with the 8.8. C. And years ago, in Mel-bourne, he put in four years with the Gregan McMahon repertory company, acting in, and stage managing a couple o f dozen plays. Recently he has played two big T. S. Eliot roles with Syd- ney’s Genesians: Beckett in “Murder in the Cathedral” and the psychiatrist in “The Cocktail Party.” 

“TV has a lot of problems that don’t exist either on the stage or in radio,” he says. “You have to make every point valid in front ot the camera and remember that it goes right into the homes of the audience. “There’s none of the large illusion of the theatre. And you have to remember all the time that you’re working on a very small stage. “You can’t go in for many long shots of crowd scenes, f6r instance, because the figures look too small to come to life. Intimate effects “But you can create wonderfLilly intimate effects with close-ups in a way that is never possible on the stage. “As in radio, you speak right into the ear of the audi- ence; the whole thing is per- sonal and intimate. “That distinguishes it from the cinema/’ 

I ask the players what they think. 

James Condon has left his script and is kneeling beside the table wffiere I am writing, on the outskirts of the studio. “It’s better than radio,” he says, “because you don’t have to rely on your voice alone. “It makes me feci relaxed and confident, too, because 1 can move about. In radio I always feel a compulsion to act physically, but you can’t, or you’d soon be off the mike. “TV’s more like the stage in that respect. Yet it’s better than the stage; you are freer. And you have the camera to help you make your points. Facial expression becomes more important.” I look at his face, chin rest- ing on table a few inches from my hand, eyes smiling. A face for the camera to bring into your home, and one certainly wasted on a cold metallic microphone. Now comes his cue. He stands up, tall and handsome, and goes down into the tomb. 

Before James Condon came from Perth to Sydney last November, in search of tele- vision and wider oppor- tunities. he had played in more than 6.000 productions of radio drama. Willi I5.B.C. He had also played in repertory. “There is good repertory in Perth.” he says. “People have so little else to entertain them.” He began acting before the war, when he was a univer- sity student. After the war he went back to England (where he had served in the Coastal Com- mand and married an English W.A.A.F.). He worked with the B.B.C., in radio and television. Val Gielgud gave him a part in his first TV drama produc- tion, “Away from it All.” Val Gielgud, brother of the more famous Sir John, is head of the B.B.C.’s drama department. Condon returned to Perth at the end of two years, and worked with the Australian playwright and producer, Alexander Turner. One of his keenest fans is his 10-year-old daughter Eliz- abeth, who is already plan- ning her own acting career. 

Dinah Shearing agrees that radio is less rewarding than the stage, but she will not commit herself to a partisan attitude towards television. The Phoenix is her first television play, and this is her first rehearsal. “The first time I’ve been able to take the opportunity,” she says. Fools oon fused For the past year she has been playing Shakespeare and Restoration comedy for the Elizabethan Theatre Trust. “At the moment,” she says, “I m feeling utterly confused. All the moves are different from the stage moves.” She and Audrey Tccsdale both played in “A Phoenix Too Frequent” on the stage, some years ago. when John Kay produced it at the old  Mercury Theatre in Sydney, now the Phillip Street Theatre. Bruce Stewart, who played Tegeus then, is now in Lon- don.

“If someone’d give me a five-year stage contract 1 don’t think I’d ever want to play in radio again,” Dinah continues. “After I’ve re- corded a few serials 1 start wondering why I haven’t got married years ago and busied myself with a family. “But when 1 get on to the stage I couldn’t imagine any- thing I want less than a swarm of children.” 

Beautiful brown-eyed Dinah Shearing is single, and lives in a flat in Edgecliff. She is a very busy actress, but when she has time she paints, or sings. She has studied both these arts on the professional level and might have made a career in either. 

The low comedy role of Doto is one of Audrey Tees- dale’s favourites and she is delighted to be playing it on television, after a stage season and three radio productions. “I love television,” she says. “You can be terribly sincere, and the cameras don’t worry me. “You can act simply, with- out the effort of ‘putting it across’ that you have in the theatre.” This is Audrey’s fourth ‘elevision play. Her sternest critic is her husband, Tony Dibbs, who is with an advertising agency in Sydney, and has a professional interest in television. “He doesn’t miss a thing.’ she says, “and it’s a tremendous help. If he says Pm all right, well. I know’ that 1 am.” Her six-year-old step-son Simon, is more an admirer than a critic. ‘“lt’s nice to know they’re at home watching me,” she comments, “and I suppose I play for them.” 

Admirer Six weeks of planning have gone into making the play you will see on your TV screen next week, on Wednesday, July 24. The players have rehearsed for more than 40 hours; 30 hours in the workshop ob- served by the private eye; two hours of dress and makeup rehearsal at the Gore Hill production studios, and seven and a half hours of camera rehearsal, with a final “per- formance check” lasting an hour before the actual telecast. 

During those weeks Desmonde Downing, in her studio at Gore Hill, was designing the scenery, and the men in the workshop out there were building and paint- ing it. Costumes Mrs. Thelma Afford, at her home in Balmoral was designing the costumes and discussing them with producer and players, and the ABN wardrobe mistress, /il lah Weatherly. 

In addition, a lot of tech nical people are needed There is the chief technical producer with two camera men, two camera control operators, a boom operator a sound mixer and a vision mixer. Then there is the stag- ing supervisor, the two pro- pert)’ men. the floor manager and the assistant floor man- ager, and someone lookins after the lighting. At the producer’s right hand in the control room on the night of the”~ actual per- formance is the script assist- ant, Ruth Page, who during rehearsals made a lot of notes on the margin of the script, typed specially wide for the purpose. In a crisis. Miss Page could probably see the show on to the screen on her own. 

 “I’ve never had any technical mishaps in any of my productions.” Paul O’Loughlin says, “touch wood. Rut one time one of the cameras failed pist as we had finished If it had broken down five minutes sooner the ending of the play would have looked a trifle odd.”