Pray silence, please, for the magic of music hall

ITV's drama series 'Lost Empires' is set in the romantic world of the music hall, just before the outbreak of World War One. It is a world we see through the eyes of young Richard Hemcastle, who becomes a performer and whose character acts as narrator as the drama unfolds. [Here] we introduce the leading players... as he views them. Jan Etherington goes on location to see how the series was made.

When his mother dies, in November 1913, young Richard Herncastle (Colin Firth) is invited to enter the magical wor1d of the music hall by his uncle, Nick Ollanton - alias The Great Ganga Dun. As Herncastle travels the country with the company of performers, the characters he meets, the three women who open his eyes to passion, friendship and love and the  tragedies behind the laughter, are recounted in Lost Empires, a seven-part series, which begins on Friday. 

His experiences are told by writer J B Priestley in his book published in 1965. Priestley's story, on which the series is based, examines the end of an era - when the lights went out, not only in Empires of the music hall, but all over Europe, as World War One changed the world for ever... 

Meanwhile, it's a cold day in Blackpool, usually a colourful, noisy town. Today sounds are muffled, streets are strangely silent. Even the sea is grey. Pushing open the door of the Grand Theatre, a wall of warm air makes  eyes water and noses run. There are bright lights, laughter, music, The swish of silk and the crackle of taffeta. Warning fingers are placed on lips as every tiptoe on the polished floor sounds like a gunshot.

Suddenly, the lights are dimmed, sinuous snake-charming music coils up to the spotlights as the beam catches the dramatically black-cloaked figure of the saturnine Ganga Dun. He raises his arms.

There is a gasp from onlookers which is not entirely rehearsed for, from any angle, this looks impressive. His assistant is floating, apparently unsupported.

Ganga Dun passes a hoop over her sleeping form to prove that there are no strings. It is the climax of the act, Ganga Dun, billed as The Marvellous Maharajah of

Mystery, steps forward to receive the applause. Cold eyes raking the audience, the magician bows with arrogant grace and sweeps from the stage.

Silence. 

'... and, Cut! Was that all right for you, Doug?' The disembodied voice of director Alan Grint breaks the spell. We blink, rub our eyes and head for the coffee machine. It is only then, as the lights go up, that the audience are revealed as cardboard cut-outs and the orchestra as dummies, draped in gauze. Lost Empires appears on the small screen, not only with an exceptional cast of performers, but also using five beautifully-restored theatres as sets for the story including the 92-year-old Grand Theatre, Blackpool, magnificently refurbished and rescued from the threat of demolition.

Sitting alone in the front row, leaning forward attentively, is David Hemingway, Magic Circle member and adviser to Lost Empires. It was Hemingway's complicated task to take the tricks described in Priestley's story and make them work convincingly for television.

'I had to make all the props myself and recreate it properly,' Hemingway explains. 'It's pure luck if you have an actor who likes magic. John Castle loves it. He enjoyed all the tricks and he's prepared to spend endless time learning them.'

As if by magic, Castle appears beside us. He looks rather intimidating, still in full Ganga Dun regalia. It is a huge, powerful role for an actor and runs through the whole series, and, as Castle explains, there is a great deal more to this role than simply learning the lines.

'There are two parts to master,' he says. 'One is the very practical side of learning the magic tricks and the other is the dour, cold character of the man, Nick Ollanton. The magic side is a great part of the attraction for me, and I get a double dollop, as it were, if both the acting performance goes well and the trick works. 'I'm playing to both the camera and the audience, and it helps enormously to be filming it in a real music hall. I think  the lighting crews have captured the magic of the theatre extremely well.' 

There is a serious danger that Castle, as the powerful, menacing magician with rather a dismissive attitude to the ladies in his life, particularly his devoted assistant, Cissie Mapes (Gillian Bevan), could become this autumn's heart-throb.

'It's nicer to play villains,' John Castle smiles wickedly. 'Nick Ollanton loves his nephew, as he loved his sister -Richard's mother - and feels responsible for him when she dies. He encourages Richard's talent as a painter, so there is some kindness in him - but not much.'

There is a shriek from the side of the stage. Gillian Bevan is being laced into her stays. 'No wonder Edwardian women were always fainting,' she observes, with a gasp.

A native northerner, Gillian is playing a cockney and spent some time conferring with Joan Washington, dialogue  coach for the series. She says: 'I'm really enjoying over-acting, for the "performance". It's all teeth and smiles, I find I get really nervous before each trick. My heart is pounding but it's nice to know that, if ever I want a job, David Hemingway tells me I'd make a great magician's assistant!'

Colin Firth, who plays the leading character and narrator, Richard Herncastle, waddles awkwardly down the steps, trying not to crumple his gold Aladdin slippers.

'I feel a bit of a lemon in this outfit,' he confesses. 'The turban makes me look like a mushroom.'

First noticed as the gauche, love-sick schoolboy in the television play Dutch Gills, Firth now has a massive task for a young actor: starring in a major series, in which he appears in almost every scene. 'It does make a tremendous difference working with an experienced actor like John Castle,' he says. 'We've become the best of friends during the filming.'

Firth had one particularly memorable time, acting with Laurence Olivier, who appears in this week's episode as eccentric comedian Harry Burrard, a tragic figure whose act is old-fashioned and mercilessly ridiculed by the audience.

'He is immensely charming and it is entirely to his credit that I felt at ease,' Firth reveals.

Time once again for Gillian to elevate herself tor her art. She floats above Ganga Dun. 'How is it done?' I ask David Hemingway. He taps his nose and grins. 'Let's just say it's an illusion,' is all he will reveal. In the old, mahogany furnished theatre bar, two rosy-cheeked matrons in flowing Edwardian frocks claim there's nowhere to put your credit card in this 'get-up'. The stage door swings shut, cutting out the warmth and magic.

Looking back at the snow-capped, unlit theatre, there is nothing to indicate the teeming activity within. A lost empire, indeed.
 

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