How the town got in on the act

Lip service is often paid to the idea of community involvement in the theatre, but Tour de Force's Henry V at Arundel is taking it seriously.

A slightly desultory, sun-dazed rehearsal of the Arundel Festival outdoor production of Henry V... The setting is a natural amphitheatre on the lee of Arundel Castle, a building that really comes into its own when Henry asks, "What is the castle called that stands hard by?" (to receive the answer: "Agincourt"). Since the festival began 23 years ago, a production on this site has been its centrepiece, but never has the scale of the show been so big. This is also the first time that local amateurs have been involved alongside professionals.

A slightly desultory, sun-dazed rehearsal of the Arundel Festival outdoor production of Henry V... The setting is a natural amphitheatre on the lee of Arundel Castle, a building that really comes into its own when Henry asks, "What is the castle called that stands hard by?" (to receive the answer: "Agincourt"). Since the festival began 23 years ago, a production on this site has been its centrepiece, but never has the scale of the show been so big. This is also the first time that local amateurs have been involved alongside professionals.

I'm told that this particular rehearsal mainly involves professionals, and that only two amateurs are present. As the performers limber up, it's not so hard to guess which are the amateurs. They're the only two clutching scripts, not messing about, the only two who don't join in the ironic cheer as the director points out the smoking area at the back of the stage.

Not only are there 25 amateurs acting alongside 15 professionals of the Tour de Force theatre company, however, but much of the behind-the-scenes work is also being carried out by volunteers. It's all reminiscent of the Monty Python sketch in which the Batley Townswomen's Guild re-enact... well, wasn't Agincourt one of their specialities, along with the bombing of Pearl Harbor? As the rehearsal progresses, half the female student population of West Sussex seem to be repainting the arena's perimeter fence, while other, burlier locals are erecting the stage.

In fact, the local community has been involved to an even greater extent than originally envisaged. The collapse of a scheme to take the production to the United States, with college kids from Connecticut taking over the roles of the West Sussex amateurs, led to a shortfall in funds, so a celebrity auction was held in Arundel, at which the public knowingly paid over the odds for autographed items, such as Ned Sherrin's latest book of anecdotes and Cliff Richard's waistcoat.

The £5,000 raised helped save the production, along with the generosity of locals as manifest in other ways. The actors are billeted at the houses of festival supporters; rehearsal lunches are provided by local supermarkets; even the production T-shirts, bearing the slogan "We Few...", were supplied at break-even rates by a local company.

The director, Joe Harmston, points to the equivalence between this collective enterprise and the militaristic one in the play. "There's no better play for expressing the spirit of what we're trying to do," he says. The parallel might not have been so happily clear had the production gone for the sort of fraught, dark view of Henry that Kenneth Branagh took in his film of the play, or that's more elliptically suggested by the RSC production of Henry V, which opens this week and places the action in a setting uncomfortably suggestive of the former Yugoslavia. On the whole, Arundel takes the play as a hymn to pulling together

Tour de Force is committed to the unfashionable, democratic notion of ensemble playing, and Harmston actually doesn't use the term amateur. "We're in danger of straying into the realms of political incorrectness," he says, "but we call them 'Non-professionals'."

Most of the non-professionals have small parts. But one exception is Peter Clark, who plays the king of France, despite never having done anything more theatrical than given presentations for his employers. Mind you, he was always suspiciously good at that. He recalls the audition, which took place in an Arundel church hall three weeks ago: "As soon as I started reading I could see the director whispering to the people around him, 'Who's this? What's he done before?'" I wondered how he was getting on with line learning. "Ha!" he says, "ask the commuters at Worthing station who've all seen this nutter spouting Shakespeare to the blackberries at the end of the platform."

Clark was at this rehearsal by virtue of the size of his part. The other non-professional present, Graham Toole-Mackson, playing Sir Thomas Erpingham, was present because, that afternoon, when the non-professionals were due to be out in force, he would be sitting in Arundel magistrates court as a lay magistrate. Before retirement, Mr Toole-Mackson was a lawyer who was frustrated at having to combine his theatricality with court rooms. He has a long track record in "am dram", and "took a lot of leads with the Ferring Amateur Dramatic Society in the Seventies". He's been Charlie's Aunt, of course - not once but twice - but when I ask him to describe his talents, he's very modest. "I have a good, clear voice," he says, in a good, clear voice.

That afternoon, I followed the company for a second rehearsal, and costume fitting, in the grounds of Westbourne House Preparatory school near Chichester. (The bursar, hearing that the production was looking for rehearsal space, telephoned to say "I've got 55 acres if that's any good".) Here, the democratic nature of the enterprise was being demonstrated by the sight of King Henry himself (James Simmons) warming up by throwing a ball with non-professionals. In the refreshments marquee, I talked to Gill Carter, whose hitherto latent theatrical instincts had led her to a job making announcements at the South Terminal at Gatwick Airport. At the auditions, she spoke well, but somebody also gave her a drum to try. "And it turned out that I was one hot drummer," she says. So now she's a drummer in the battle scenes, doubling as "a lady of the Boar's Head Tavern".

The auditions for the production were attended by more than 200 people, and Harmston says the standard was high. His theory is that there's a great deal of talent out there, either sublimated all together, or diverted into the booming field of am dram because, with the death of traditional rep, the profession of actor is now so notoriously insecure. Many people who do ordinary jobs, yet appear a little over the top and actorly, would actually have been actors in the past, he believes.

This year also saw a huge and successful combination of amateurs and pros in a production of The Barchester Chronicles at the Chichester Festival Theatre (of which Harmston himself used to be resident director), and in the York Mystery Plays. I was in the York Mystery Plays myself as a schoolboy, playing the part of Herod's messenger in another mixed cast. I recall my delight at learning terms such as "call" and "blocking", and the way I revered the (professional) director, transcribing her every instruction in my script.

But when it came to costume fitting I finally felt I had the advantage over the director, for she did not have a costume.

As the afternoon's rehearsal of Henry V got underway, some cast members were trying their costumes for the first time, and the excitement was palpable. One woman, who only had a small part but evidently one requiring a dress of the utmost elegance, seemed close to tears as she gasped: "It's so nice to be able to live out your dreams."

Later, I spoke to Simon Linnell - a professional, playing Pistol - about the non-professionals. "I don't want to sound patronising, but they're just so incredibly keen," he said, and he maintains that this enthusiasm will be evident in the production, which is almost sold out. "They really are going to give it the most tremendous amount of wellie."

'Henry V', Arundel Castle, West Sussex (01903 883474) to 2 Sept