Ever since I first saw the play “Noises Off” on Broadway around 1984 I’ve been deeply impressed by Michael Frayn, its author.
I’d read about the play before I attended it. It was said to be very funny and very clever. But it was exponentially funnier and more clever than I’d imagined, probably the funniest and most clever play I’d ever seen, then or later. It was also crazily complex in terms of its “business” and its staging, requiring split-second perfection in its timing, as well as prodigious memories in its actors.
I recently got a look at the script for “Noises Off,” something I’d always wondered about. How does a playwright even write the directions for that sort of thing? The script is just as complicated as I’d thought, a sort of fugue of action and words that’s hard to puzzle out when reading but works perfectly onstage, like a very intricate orchestral score.
And so I’ve long wondered about Frayn, who has also written other plays I’ve seen, of a very different type. What kind of a protean mind does he have?
He talks about his motives here:
MF: I never write with any audience in mind. I never think that anyone’s going to do the plays. People often ask if you think about an audience or if you think about which actors are going to perform them. Well, you can’t, or my brain is simply not big enough to do this. Every channel is, has to be dedicated to thinking about what you are writing. You really don’t have any, or I don’t have any spare space to spare to think about are people going to like this or whatever, or is this suitable for this kind of theatre or that kind of theatre. And certainly with Noises Off and with Copenhagen and with Democracy I didn’t think that anyone would perform them at all, I thought I was just writing them for my own amusement.
Astounding. He sounds sincere, too. Come to think of it, one of the joys of “Noises Off” may be just that: that it was a form of play in the nontheatrical meaning of the word, an activity “engaged in for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.”
“Noises Off” is not only the funniest play I’ve ever seen, bar none, but unlike many comedies its humor bears repeating. I believe I’ve seen it four or five times, the first three times within a couple of years of each other, and I continued to find it very funny each time. A lot of the humor is of the slapstick farcical variety, which is not ordinarily my cup of tea. But somehow it’s pulled off at such a brisk pace that it works phenomenally well.
I’ve seen Frayn’s play “Copenhagan” (also referenced in that quote of his) too, many years later. It’s thoughtful and intellectual and hardly a barrel of laughs. After I saw it, I had to go back and check to make sure the same person had written them both.
More from the interview:
UC: Could you give an example of one of your plays where you remember exactly how you got together the general idea and the specific topic?
MF: Well, I can remember with Noises Off, that – I told you that my first show was four short plays The Two of Us, and one of them was a farce and the point of the evening was, it was played by just two actors, one actor and an actress. And the farce had five characters in it, who were discovering each
other in embarrassing positions or whatever. So the two actors had to do a lot of fast, quick changing and running through one door and to another backstage putting on a different coat or so and one night I watched it from backstage and I thought this is funnier than what’s going on at the front and I must one day write a farce seen from behind.It was a very easy thought to have and it took me a very, very long time to do.
I bet it did.
If you haven’t seen the play, I’ll mention that it has one of those play-within-a-play structures. But none of the action takes place outside the theater at all. The first act is a rehearsal of a supposed play that’s a second-rate farce. The second act is a performance of the same play as seen from backstage. The third act is a performance seen from the front but occurring much later in a grinding tour in which all the relationships between the actors (not so great to begin with) have disintegrated in various ways.
That explanation of “Noises Off” and its genesis is immediately followed by this one from Frayn, about his play “Copenhagen”:
Copenhagen is again, problems I’ve been thinking about for a long time, about quantum mechanics and indeterminacy. And then I happened to read a book by Thomas Powers called Heisenberg’s War which told the story of Heisenberg’s trip to Copenhagen in 1941, much written about then, but I had
never come across it, and since I’d read it, I thought: this suggests, this seems to encapsulate something about the difficulty of knowing why people do what they do and there is a parallel between that and the impossibility that Heisenberg established in physics, about ever knowing everything about
the behaviour of physical objects. So that idea sort of came quite quickly and it took a very, very long time then to work out how to do it. An appallingly long time.
That’s quite a wide-ranging mind Frayn has.
By the way, Frayn has also had a great deal of success as a translator of Russian:
He is now considered to be Britain’s finest translator of Anton Chekhov (The Seagull, Uncle Vanya, Three Sisters and The Cherry Orchard) as well as an early untitled work, which he titled Wild Honey (other translations of the work have called it Platonov or Don Juan in the Russian Manner) and a number of Chekhov’s smaller plays for an evening called The Sneeze (originally performed on the West End by Rowan Atkinson).
He also translated Yuri Trifonov’s play Exchange, Leo Tolstoy’s The Fruits of Enlightenment, and Jean Anouilh’s Number One.
One more thing about “Noises Off.” Although it was made into a film, I advise you to stay far far away from that version. The play only works onstage. This is one of the few times I agree with Frank Rich, who “called “Noises Off” ‘the funniest play written in my lifetime’, [but] wrote that the film is ‘one of the worst ever made.'”

