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Home truths amid the snow
Facing the truth: Stuart McGugan as the Rev Martin Gregory with Corrinne Wicks as his daughter Margaret The Holly and The Ivy Lichfield Garrick **** WE can all see obvious problems in being
the son of a preacher man, or in this case son and daughters of the
village vicar. Transgressions by offspring can reflect badly on
God’s district office in the shape of the parish priest attempting to
lead his flock along the paths of righteousness. Add to that theological tension that mix of
festivities and hostilities we call Christmas and you have the setting
for Wynyard Browne’s 1950 play set in a Norfolk vicarage in 1947, which
as some will remember, was one of the coldest and snowiest winters in
the past hundred years or so. We first meet daughter Jenny played with a demure
matter of factness by Charlotte Hunter. Despite the amorous attentions of dour, down to
earth Scottish engineer David Patterson, who wants to marry her and take
her with him to South America where he has a five-year contract, she
seems resigned to a life of likely spinsterhood looking after her aging
father. David is played by Tom Butcher, remembered as Pc
Steve Loxton in The Bill, who gives us a no nonsense character
with an excellent and consistent Scottish accent, which unlike the
weather outside the window, never drifted. Jenny’s father is the vicar, the Rev Martin
Gregory, played with reverential ease as the everyman vicar by Stuart
McGugan. Martin, it transpires, has been perhaps more attuned to the
needs of his parishioners than of his own children. A good man but has
he been a good father? This comes to a head when son Michael, played
with a nice, jaunty air by Dean Smith, wangles
a
48 hour pass from the army, and after arriving unexpectedly on Christmas
Eve, then returns after an evening out with sister Margaret with both
tired and emotional . . . as newts. He might have been a bit wobbly on his feet but
his declaration that no one could ever tell his angry father the truth
was straight to the point and was the catalyst for a soul searching fest
come Christmas Day.
Fashion writer Margaret is played with suitable
neurosis by Corrinne Wicks who seems to be a selfish, aloof, uncaring
alcoholic when she arrives but we start to warm to her as bit by bit we
discover the tragedy of her life. A tragedy she has felt unable to share
with her man of God father. Their dialogue about the meaning of life and all
that, the crux of the play is perhaps a little too long and theological
for modern audiences and perhaps 63 years ago might had had more
relevance; it seems a little dated these days as if it should be said in
rather clipped, upper-class tones in soft focus black and white. But then again this is a period piece and
director Michael Lunney and his Middle Ground Theatre Company have
managed to give the whole piece from scenery, to dress and suitcases,
the feel of 1947 so we cannot really complain when a theological
discussion is in keeping with the times. Helping to give the family Christmas air we have
the aunts, with first sweet, understanding Lydia, played by the vastly
experienced Hildegard Neil and then grumpy old woman par excellence
Bridget, an Irishwoman who dislikes just about every living, dead,
animate or inanimate object on the planet. In the hands of Sally
Saunders she is a delightful comic relief as part of a ladies of mature
years double act. Then for added amusement there is cousin Richard, the
retired Colonel and godfather of Margaret, played in suitable military
manner by Alan Leith. Like most of Middle Ground’s productions, their
Frankie and Johnny in the Claire de Lune is still a favourite,
this is a solid production, well acted with substantial sets and designs
that look the part. Despite being 63 years old, apart from perhaps
the heart to heart between father and daughter, it has stood the test of
time well with a decent storyline and believable characters with
interesting narratives - even the colonel has a secret to tell. And that
is what good theatre is all about. To 18-01-14 Roger Clarke
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