In 2002 I did a production of Trip’s Cinch, a little known Phyllis Nagy play, at the Southwark Playhouse, London, where I was artistic director at the time. Suffering the usual press night nerves, I was doing my best to charm the arriving critics, when I saw the towering figure of Peter Hall coming through our modest little courtyard. My heart stopped and soared all at the same time. The legend himself. Founding director of the RSC, former artistic director of the National, Peter was the embodiment of a walking institution. And here he was, a giant in our tiny studio theatre, dressed then as he always was: dapper with a magnetic, shy smile.
The next day he called me, took me out for lunch and asked me to join him as his associate as the Peter Hall Company took up residence at Theatre Royal Bath. From then on he became my mentor, father figure and friend, and I absolutely adored him. I called him Peteski.
We would rehearse in London with our company of shared actors, and then move to Bath for weeks on end as we mounted the season. Away from home and often from family, we would have lunch and dinner together almost every day and talk and talk and talk. He would tell me stories and share lessons he’d learned: art, politics, life.
Above all, he taught me never to be afraid of not knowing the answer, to trust that the director’s job was to find it along the way; that the writer was always the most important person in any rehearsal room, alive or dead; that hearing the music in everything you direct is always the key; and that family was the most important thing in the whole world.
He absolutely loved his sprawling family and never was there a more proud parent. In our first season, in 2003, I directed his daughter Rebecca in what was to be her second professional job playing the lead in a DH Lawrence play, The Fight for Barbara, before Peter was to go on to direct her in As You Like It. Peter came to watch our last run in the rehearsal room. I sat with my heart in my mouth while we waited for his reaction afterwards ... he rose from his chair, neatly suited, of course, and reached for a handkerchief to dry his eyes before he could speak. He knew then just how good an actress Rebecca was going to be, and for the only time in our 15-year friendship he was lost for words.
I miss his warmth, his generosity, his kindness; his desire always to see the best in others; his power and his strength; his devotion to his work, to his family and to his wife, Nicki; his irrepressible energy; his naughty sense of humour; that big toothy smile and those crinkly eyes – always so warm, so inviting. Your legend lives on, Peteski.
