The Lewis Trilogy

Saw The Lewis Trilogy at Griffin Theatre today. Of course it was good. Context alone makes it worthwhile.

I’d intended to see it on Saturday, to avoid the final attentions it might receive, but circumstances (ie, laziness, and a pretense of saving money) rendered that not an option as the entire run sold out while I was dithering. The page open in my internet browser, and a random refresh a couple of days later, and I scored Sunday tickets. (I wonder if I bypassed a waiting list that they were spruiking…)

This, the final performance of the three plays. This, the final performance of the Griffin Theatre as it currently stands. To be demolished come 9am tomorrow. (Not likely true, but dramatic.) Renovated. Spruced. A lift being added. Rehearsal space in the ground below. 36 extra seats. A popcorn machine in the foyer.

Back in 2026.

The day was filmed, as per the request of Posterity, so if I ever become something worth trawling through archives for – serial killer would be the easiest option, playwright a distant thirty-seventh – look for the aloof individual focused on a book in the corner, or on the footpath. Also look for me in a cloud of purple confetti as we feted the final moments at the conclusion of it all.

A man asked me if I was from the Phoenix Theatre (never heard of it), was surprised I wasn’t, and told me I had a very familiar face before darting back into the crowd, right before the last play. Clearly my doppelganger is out there being more successful than I am.

The program, slightly cheaper than the STC programs currently, was better. What a change from the gold coin donation they used to be! Clearly the one time I designed a program of theirs, at their request, many years ago (after one of my State of the Program addresses) has flowed on. Definitely it. Clear cause and effect. Ignore the ten year gap.

At the end of the second play of the trilogy, Cosi, Lewis is called upon to turn out all the lights in the old theatre the asylum is using. Reminded me of the end of The Habit of Art. Caught myself not bursting into tears then and there. That old Pixar poignancy of moving on in a melancholic key, yes?

The playwright was in attendance, as presumably were a hundred other important people, going by what the foyer talk was like. You couldn’t swing a cat for the amount of productions people were saying they were working on.

COVID, then work, had stopped me being able to get to Griffin Theatre except for on the occasional weekend, for the past while, so this was the first time I’d been in many years. (I loathe weekend train trackwork.) I forgot the gem it was. The inspiration it provides. I’ve no idea if it is the London equivalent, but I’m booked in to see Giant at the Royal Court come September.

I’ve been writing something, dear reader. Hush hush and all that. I shall continue with renewed vigour tomorrow.