Brian Cox Recalls Tom Stoppard's Vision for 'Rock'n'Roll': A Masterclass in Clear Ideas and Elegance
In 2006, when I landed the role of Max in Tom Stoppard's Rock'n'Roll at the Royal Court, I had been a fan of his work for years. Having seen Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead on its UK premiere in London in 1967, starring Graham Crowden as the Player King, I was well aware of his unique voice and style. The Real Thing and Arcadia were also notable examples of his skill as a playwright.
Rock'n'Roll, directed by Trevor Nunn, was set against the backdrop of the Czech Republic's tumultuous 1968, with two contrasting plays exploring Sappho and the Soviet takeover. As Max, I portrayed a Marxist academic, while Rufus Sewell played Jan, a Czech student who returns to Prague.
Stoppard's vision in Rock'n'Roll was clear: a commentary on his views on politics, society, and art. He drew inspiration from real-life figures, such as the Plastic People of the Universe, a psychedelic band banned by the communist government, despite their lack of overt political intent. This theme resonated with me when I visited Russia in the 1980s to work with students at the Moscow Art Theatre School, where I encountered Ravil Isyanov, an actor mistakenly identified as a KGB agent due to his passion for The Beatles.
The first night of Rock'n'Roll was memorable, with Václav Havel, Timothy Garton Ash, and Dave Gilmour of Pink Floyd in attendance. As the curtain opened, I caught sight of Mick Jagger being fed spoonfuls by his girlfriend – an image that stuck in my mind. Despite the complexities of its subject matter, Rock'n'Roll struck a chord with audiences both in London and New York.
Stoppard's approach to writing was characterized by clear purpose and ideas, which often came at the expense of character development. This was evident in my portrayal of Max, who was based on Eric Hobsbawm but served more as an idea than a fully fleshed-out person. When I questioned Stoppard about this, he simply replied that "you are" – his answer reflecting his conviction in the power of clear and focused thinking.
One anecdote from my time working with Stoppard remains etched in memory: when we parked near the Royal Court Theatre, where Rock'n'Roll was playing. We spotted him sitting alone in his car, waiting for a meter to reach 12 pm so he could proceed. When we knocked on the door and asked if he was okay, he responded that it was all about "elegance." This attitude exemplified his dedication to picking one's moments wisely – a hallmark of elegance, both as an artist and in everyday life.
Tom Stoppard's legacy is a testament to his unwavering commitment to art, politics, and social commentary. His vision for Rock'n'Roll may have seemed unconventional at the time, but it has since proven itself to be nothing short of remarkable – a true masterclass in clear ideas and elegance.
In 2006, when I landed the role of Max in Tom Stoppard's Rock'n'Roll at the Royal Court, I had been a fan of his work for years. Having seen Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead on its UK premiere in London in 1967, starring Graham Crowden as the Player King, I was well aware of his unique voice and style. The Real Thing and Arcadia were also notable examples of his skill as a playwright.
Rock'n'Roll, directed by Trevor Nunn, was set against the backdrop of the Czech Republic's tumultuous 1968, with two contrasting plays exploring Sappho and the Soviet takeover. As Max, I portrayed a Marxist academic, while Rufus Sewell played Jan, a Czech student who returns to Prague.
Stoppard's vision in Rock'n'Roll was clear: a commentary on his views on politics, society, and art. He drew inspiration from real-life figures, such as the Plastic People of the Universe, a psychedelic band banned by the communist government, despite their lack of overt political intent. This theme resonated with me when I visited Russia in the 1980s to work with students at the Moscow Art Theatre School, where I encountered Ravil Isyanov, an actor mistakenly identified as a KGB agent due to his passion for The Beatles.
The first night of Rock'n'Roll was memorable, with Václav Havel, Timothy Garton Ash, and Dave Gilmour of Pink Floyd in attendance. As the curtain opened, I caught sight of Mick Jagger being fed spoonfuls by his girlfriend – an image that stuck in my mind. Despite the complexities of its subject matter, Rock'n'Roll struck a chord with audiences both in London and New York.
Stoppard's approach to writing was characterized by clear purpose and ideas, which often came at the expense of character development. This was evident in my portrayal of Max, who was based on Eric Hobsbawm but served more as an idea than a fully fleshed-out person. When I questioned Stoppard about this, he simply replied that "you are" – his answer reflecting his conviction in the power of clear and focused thinking.
One anecdote from my time working with Stoppard remains etched in memory: when we parked near the Royal Court Theatre, where Rock'n'Roll was playing. We spotted him sitting alone in his car, waiting for a meter to reach 12 pm so he could proceed. When we knocked on the door and asked if he was okay, he responded that it was all about "elegance." This attitude exemplified his dedication to picking one's moments wisely – a hallmark of elegance, both as an artist and in everyday life.
Tom Stoppard's legacy is a testament to his unwavering commitment to art, politics, and social commentary. His vision for Rock'n'Roll may have seemed unconventional at the time, but it has since proven itself to be nothing short of remarkable – a true masterclass in clear ideas and elegance.