I find myself in the dress circle surrounded by the poshest of people up from the Shires: cut-glass accents absorbed at Roedean and Cheltenham, pearl necklaces, titles and a few former County Life cover girls. Probably descendants of Professor Henry Higgins himself, and if they hear me speak they will no doubt have wagers on who could pass me off as a Duke at the next big Society Ball. I am in the perfect place for Lerner & Loewe’s My Fair Lady, a story about how the poor working-class can teach the rich upper-class how to be decent people, writes Michael Holland.
As the English National Opera Orchestra get stuck into the overture with gusto, Drury Lane emerges from the shadows around a flower-seller on the stage. It is Eliza Doolittle trying to earn a living. She is warned about a stranger taking notes on what she is saying, so she confronts him for being a copper with nothing better to do. It is, though, the aforementioned Professor, a phoneticist studying the Common Cockney.
While in Covent Garden, Higgins strikes up a bet with his sidekick, the gentle Colonel Pickering, on whether he can transform Eliza into someone who can be passed off as a Duchess. When she hears of this she is not happy and berates Higgins. He responds by mocking her ‘kerbstone English’, and calls her a guttersnipe as he gets chased away by the market people who always look after their own.
The next day, however, Eliza turns up at Higgins’ house asking if she can pay for elocution lessons to improve her employment chances. The Professor and Pickering convince her to stay as part of their experiment and be taught for free. She moves in.
When her father, Alfred P. Doolittle finds this out he sees an opportunity to make money. He visits the house and tells the two men that he ‘can’t afford to have morals’ and sells Eliza for £50.
The voice and speech training commences until, by jove, she gets it, and they rejoice with The Rain in Spain Falls Mainly in the Plain.
Eliza’s first day out does not go well, although Freddy Eynsford-Hill takes a strong liking for her. He particularly enjoyed her tale about her father pouring gin down her mother’s throat. A meltdown ensues but she perseveres for the next challenge: The Embassy Ball.
When the evening arrives, Eliza looks every bit the Duchess in her ball gown and jewels, and is soon swept off her feet to dance with the Crown Prince of Transylvania,. When a language expert swears that she is descended from royalty the wager is won.
Higgins crows about his success; Pickering sings a song about it, and poor Eliza is sidelined as if she had no part in the change she has made to her life and her presence is now not needed. Higgins is shown be to be a selfish, uncaring man, which not only hurts Eliza but also his mother and his friend, Pickering.
After harsh words are exchanged, Eliza leaves with Freddy, who has kept his own flame for her burning bright.
Higgins seethes because she has left with Freddy and because he hasn’t got his own way. But the best he can muster up is a song saying he has become Accustomed To Her Face! That spoilt posh boy needs to up his game. He needs to show some humility to win that young girl’s heart but all he could do was say that he ‘couldn’t change’! He had just proved that people can change if they try hard enough, but he was not willing to put the effort in. And yet she turns up at his door once more. I was not convinced.
And all that was going on a grandiose theatre, with great sets, marvellous costumes (reflecting the Cecil Beaton originals), and, of course, a whole bunch of classic songs.
Amara Okereke was a magnificent Eliza, while Stephen K. Amos put in a fantastic turn as her father.
As the audience made their way out the Marchioness next to me asked how much I’d charge to teach her to talk like a Bermondsey Boy. I explained that it can’t be learnt but for £50 an hour I’d give it a go…
The Coliseum, St Martin’s Lane, WC2N 4ES until August 27th. Times: Mon – Sat 7pm; Tues & Thurs matinees 2pm. Admission: £25 – £175.
Booking: www.eno.org