Cirrus@Austlit

'Once upon a time every young man who could afford it would, at least once in his life, take off on the Grand Tour of Europe and sample the glories - persons as well as things - that lie beyond the protective Channel. Nowadays fewer "milords" can afford the trip and yet more people seem to attempt it. Like Henry in tonight's play by Alan Seymour they cannot travel in high style so they hitch-hike instead, taking the pot luck of drivers and vehicles, dust and haphazard destinations. Henry (played by David Hemmings) goes because Federika, exercising the ancient charm of the femme fatale, challenges him to broaden his mind, enlarge his horizons - grow up, in short - by enduring the rigours of a Continental summer.

'He has to make his way to Athens where he will find awaiting him an even greater challenge from his enigmatic Federika. We go with him, under the bridges of Paris, around the foundations of Rome, on the beaches of Corfu, up and down the ruins of Greece. But alas, most of his time seems to be spent, not working steadily through his guide-book but meeting, loving, and breaking the hearts of a long and cosmopolitan series of beautiful and willing girls - blonde Karin from Norway, Australian Moya, American Rosaleen in shorts and dark glasses. Federika (Delphi Lawrence) is a resourceful woman and the message Henry finds awaiting him in Athens is not at all what he expects; neither is his reception when he finally gets back to London.'

Source: Radio Times, 15 April 1965.

A Tory statesman is kidnapped by a young pop-music millionaire and shown his arrogance and guilt in scenes from his earlier life (Alan Seymour's description in a letter to Alrene Sykes, published in Australian Literary Studies 6.3, 1974, p. 286).

A contemporary review in the Times notes:

'Rampayne, aristocrat, soldier, diplomat, empire-builder, and now university eminence, is kidnapped and put on trial as a vicious bully by a young man who, as an uneducated, unsubmissive manager of pop groups, and a manipulator of public taste, represents the new world as effectively as Rampayne represents the past that is, only partially. The blacks on both sides are very black–Rampayne is a politically myopic bigot–but, as the case is put for our judgement, we feel that we ourselves could present both prosecution and defence with something closer to justice.'

Source: 'Blacker than Black', The Times, 11 November 1965, p.18.

'On December 29, 1170, a "turbulent priest" named Thomas a Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, was martyred in his own cathedral. For nearly three-and-a-half centuries his tomb behind the High Altar was the goal of countless pilgrims (including of course Chaucer's), seeking the Saint's blessing and hoping for cures. Then came the Reformation; and Thomas' coffin with the vast treasure which pilgrims had helped around it disappeared. In A Breach In The Wall, tonight's play, the Australian playwright Ray Lawler suggests what might be the consequences if the Saint's body were ever to come to light again.

'A Breach In The Wall is set some time in the near future. The parish church of the Kentish village of Valham is undergoing long-overdue restoration - restoration largely made possible by the fund-raising efforts of the able and radical young incumbent, Lewis Patterson. A walled-in chamber is discovered and within it is a coffin sealed with the crest of Becket. The excitement which follows is used by Mr Lawler to examine the state of the Churches, and Faith itself, today. Would the discovery help to breach the wall between the Anglican and Roman Churches? If the body again became an object of pilgrimage, would it cause an embarrassing revival of "superstition"?'

Source: Radio Times, 23 March 1967.