Donkeys’ Years comes from the pen of the prolific Michael Frayn, playwright
(Noises Off, Copenhagen, Clouds, Alphabetical Order), adaptor (Wild Honey, The
Sneeze), translator (The Seagull, Uncle Vanya), screenwriter (Clockwise), novelist
(The Tin Men, Sweet Dreams, Headlong, Spies), broadcaster and general man of
letters.

It started life in London’s West End in 1976, playing at the Globe Theatre
(where, as a recent entrant into the profession, I first saw it performed): it was then
a 3-act Comedy. It was revived to critical & public acclaim in 2007 at the Comedy
Theatre and then toured the UK, this time as a 2-act Farce. Comedy/ Farce: what’s
the difference? The acknowledged master of English farce, Ray Cooney, sought
to define it thus: “Comedy is frequently about an eccentric person in an everyday
situation, where as farce (and tragedy) usually involves ordinary people attempting
to deal with eccentric situations”.

In comedy one finds large performances, witty lines, social observation. In
farce, a figure of authority with a dignity & reputation to protect must be in danger
of being discovered in some indiscretion, be it sexual or financial: his frantic
attempts to prevent that are the fuel for the action.

And yes, it tends to be a man: even though in Donkeys’ Years we have Lady
Driver, who’s behaviour threatens to lead to a fall from grace, it’s the junior minister
Headingley who has the most to lose from his perceived indiscretions.

It’s interesting that Ray compares farce to tragedy: there is indeed no difference
between a man discovering his wife in bed with his best friend in a farce, and
the same situation in a tragedy. The reaction of the husband in each play should be
exactly the same: the difference is in the audience’s reaction, not the husband’s.

To achieve that difference the actor has to develop certain techniques. Obviously
he has to listen to and gauge the audience reaction otherwise he’s going to
trample over a lot of laughs; but the playing must remain truthful and sincere
although the situation may appear contrived. Good farce obeys a basic structure:
in Act 1 the characters are introduced, the plot lines laid, the inherent dangers
presented; in Act 2 character is thrown out of the window as fast pace takes over.
Any actor worth his salt will tell you just how exhausting farce, played at the right
level, can be. Sir Donald Sinden, with whom I worked on Ray’s farce Out of Order,
both in the West End & on tour, says he’d rather play Lear any day: it’s much less
tiring.

I hope you enjoy our offering. We’ve the script, honed & refined over the
last 30 years; our set is by one of the UK’s busiest & most respected designers;
we’ve assembled a fine company of talented actors; all that’s missing is that final
elementx you the audience.

David Warwick