The new Stratford theatre: a jam factory full of treasures

The old order changeth, and rightly so. The new theatre promises a radical revamp of Elisabeth Scott's 1932 original: a vilified, endlessly adapted building which, even when it opened, was described as a jam factory and a tomb. Early on, when it had an orchestra pit, an old actor famously said that playing on the Memorial Theatre stage was "like addressing Boulogne from Folkestone, though on a fine June night you could distinctly see the front stalls in the distance". Yet you can't divorce a theatre from its memories; and, whatever its handicaps, the theatre housed great work. I was first taken there, as an eight-year-old in 1948, to see, of all things, Troilus and Cressida with Paul Scofield: good seats, wonderful experience. Later, having endured the ghastly back-row balcony on school trips, I realised that for a half-a-crown (this was the mid 1950s) you could stand at the back of the stalls. From that perch I was lucky enough to see Olivier's Macbeth and Titus Andronicus, Redgrave's Hamlet and Mark Antony, Ashcroft's Cleopatra and Imogen: life-changing experiences that, I suspect, instilled the urge to write about theatre. So I have mixed feelings about the old theatre: it may have been a red-brick fortress but it was filled with treasures. Over the years, it's had countless changes at the hands of successive RSC directors, with the stage reaching out ever further into the auditorium. But the action always had to be visible to the upper balcony. Now, thanks to the new architects, all that has gone. Scott's three-tiered auditorium reflected the class structures of an age where the least well-off got the worst deal: the new Stratford will, one trusts, be a more democratic, open space. All we need are the great productions and performances to challenge the ghosts of the past.