Gareth Armstrong’s latest play Round About Hogarth is an insightful commentary on eighteenth‑century London with two of its distinguished inhabitants at centre stage: well‑respected theatre actor David Garrick and satirist painter William Hogarth. Playing at the Tabard Theatre in Chiswick, the scene is set with three golden‑framed portraits, emblematic of the era, a table covered with written pamphlets on one side of the stage, and an easel and canvas at the other.
Garrick and Hogarth’s initial meeting is in Westminster Abbey, musing over Shakespeare’s monument and the Latin inscription above it. Garrick can understand the inscription and Hogarth can’t, which is where this duo’s clash of renown begins. After a second meeting, where Garrick reluctantly agrees to sit for Hogarth, the two slowly begin to develop a friendship. Despite the men unashamedly vying for “man of the moment” in a battle of pompous wit, they connect over conversation around love, art, and meaning, forming an unlikely friendship. Hogarth shares stories of his pug dog, Trump, named for his remarkable farting capabilities. The unfavourable mutterings about Trump the pug serve as a double entendre about a certain political leader, and while I can’t comment on his farting habits, I can confidently say his capabilities lie with making pretty catastrophic decisions.
Whilst posing for Hogarth, Garrick remarks on his adoration for Shakespeare, expressing his envy of Richard Burbage, Shakespeare’s first stage performer of Richard III, Othello, Hamlet and Macbeth, amongst others. Here, Garrick reveals his insecurities about lacking a legacy, exacerbated by Hogarth having such a rich, concrete legacy in his paintings. We witness a friendship unravel – and then break – through the means of art, wine and a polarised opinion on the French. Miles Richardson is Shakespearean in his delivery of Garrick, stepping into the buckled boots of the century’s greatest actor with ease and familiarity; an effortless portrayal. Terence Frisch is brilliant as Hogarth, bringing wit, humour and a slice of self‑deprecation to the forefront of his portrayal. There are, however, times when his lines do not flow so smoothly, and I question whether this is a choice of Frisch’s portrayal or whether it was a stumbling of lines. This makes his dialogue feel a little stiff at times, but his quick‑wittedness is nevertheless brilliantly entertaining.
Armstrong’s writing is sharp and witty, and his choice to weave modern references and self‑belittling jibes throughout works tremendously well. Garrick dismissing talk of a knighthood, for his kind would never amount to something of that magnitude, is particularly funny in its context. There are over 95 actors with knighthoods today, and to that I say: rest in peace, William Garrick. You would have loved to attend a Buckingham Palace investiture.
Admittedly, though this is not a play that captivated me for the full 70‑minute run, it is an intelligent two‑man play peppered with historical context and commentary, an ode to Shakespeare’s literary legacy, and amusement; with both quiet mutterings and raucous laughter echoing in the audience.
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