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Stars explained: * A production of no real merit
with failings in all areas. ** A production showing evidence of not
enough time or effort, or even talent, and which never breathes any real
life into the piece – or a show lumbered with a terrible script. *** A
good enjoyable show which might have some small flaws but has largely
achieved what it set out to do.**** An excellent show which shows a
great deal of work and stage craft with no noticeable or major
flaws.***** A four star show which has found that extra bit of magic
which lifts theatre to another plane. |
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Newly weds Sarah Brooks and James Burton, game to love Gemma Matthews and Jason Moseley, and happily bickering Michelle Whitefield and Chris Isaac proving love and marriage go together like . . . well they do sometimes Mixed Doubles An entertainment on marriage Swan Theatre Amateur Company The Swan Theatre, Worcester ***** There is plenty of choice to pick from
when it comes to eight short sketches about relationships in all its
shapes, sizes and peccadillos with actions, words or situations that
anyone who has tied the knot, or several knots in some cases, will
recognise. Sometimes it stirs a memory with amusement, a smile perhaps, sometimes a regret at things done or not done, memories of loves lost or never found – whatever it is, it is personal. Plays about murderers or Shakespeare’s Henrys are fine, but they are just plays, relationships, though, they are about our world, the one we live in. Short sketches about mundane, ordinary lives are
a much underrated genre, given some credence by Alan Bennett with his
talking heads, yet it is one that has attracted some stellar names such
Alun Owen, Harold Pinter, Alan Ayckbourn. It demands both brevity and discipline, telling a
story in as few words as possible, each word pulling its weight, and we
open with The Vicar by George Melly, better known as a jazz
performer, but a writer on the side. Keith Barrell, in his most pious
tones, sets our unseen couple of their way to married bliss, hopefully,
with a hint of damnation and salvation and away we go. A Man’s Best Friend, by James Saunders,
sees Jackie and Pete on a train on their way from their wedding
reception to their honeymoon suite, except Pete, played by James Burton,
doesn’t want anyone to know they are newly weds, fastidiously removing
every scrap of confetti. You suspect the marriage could well have a
limited lifespan as new wife Jackie starts to point out, gently, a
catalogue of his faults starting with tapping his foot when worried, and
his funny walk, and his biting his lip . . . nothing nasty, or even
irritating she says, although you can’t avoid hearing a silent “yet”
echoing somewhere in the background. As for Pete, you have to wonder about a bloke who
brings a guitar he can’t play, on his honeymoon with him. He bought it
hoping to impress Jackie who loves guitar music but has yet to find any
musical ability – mind you he might find learning easier if he didn’t
play a right hand strung guitar left handed . . . just saying. Let’s just say Jackie, played by Sarah Brooks was
not impressed, although Brooks herself was impressive, returning to STAC
after a lengthy gap, she was the star of the show, with wonderfully
clear diction and lovely characterisation in three sketches.
She was next to appear with Jason Moseley in
Norma by Alun Owen. She is a very matter of fact married woman whose
husband has discovered she is having an affair. Infidelity is about fun, she tells her lover,
adding, “We enjoy telling each other we love each other but we don’t
mean it.” The game, it seems, is over. Her marriage had settled into a comfortable
routine, she loves her husband dearly and adultery was just a bit of fun
but now it posed a moral question for her that “Anything that hurts
people is wrong.” It is a dark and rather sad view of infidelity. She was also the wife in Harold Pinter’s
bittersweet Night. A married couple sitting having coffee and
reminiscing about their past and how they first met, yet each remembers
their most intimate first moments differently, different places,
different times, he, played again by James Burton, telling of holding
her breasts standing behind her on a bridge, she with no memory of it,
asking if it was both breasts and remembering she was leaning against
railings with no one behind her. The stories are not remotely similar, then there
is the child, she thinks she hears one crying, he says there is no
sound, leaving us wondering if there is far more beneath that innocuous
exchange than the words tell us. The chasms between their memories are Grand
Canyon wide, but the couple have survived and seem to be happy living
with their own versions of a past that perhaps neither of them actually
remember, versions that might not even have happened. Jason Moseley reappears in Score by Lyndon Brook,
as a remarkably grumpy Harry, mixed doubles partner of his wife Sheila.
They are playing Jim, Harry’s boss, and his wife Jane. We never see Jim and Jane but from the sniping,
griping and squabbling we can ascertain that Jim and Jane are wealthier,
happier and even better looking than Harry’s perception of his own
situation. They are also far better tennis players. The game being played goes far beyond the
baseline and is merely a court to display Harry’s world of
dissatisfaction and resentment. The pair reappear as Helen and Norman in a tent,
old and orange – the tent that is – in Permanence by Fay Weldon.
It is pouring with rain, Helen has broken her glasses, jumping back to
avoid a wasp, so cannot read, so she talks, and talks, and talks . . . Norman, who must have been off sick when the
school did charm lessons, is trying to read and trying to not talk.
They have 18 years of camping trips being them,
along with 40 years of life, Sheila unhappy her elbows now crease when
she bends her arm. But that is not her only worry and a troubled
relationship with a troubled past starts to be seen through the rain. Alan Ayckbourn’s Countdown is more basic. Chris
Isaac and Michelle Whitfield are a long time married couple who spend
their lives muttering about and second guessing each other under their
breath. It’s a daily routine centred around tea, the making of it, the
carrying of the tray, the stirring of the cup, a ritual in which they
have each ended up with their part to play with neither wanting the part
they have ended up with and neither wanting the part to be there at all. The missing whistle for the kettle is the thing
that causes mayhem, throws the whole routines out. We have slowly gone through the ages and stages
of marriage and here we have all the irritations and moans that our
couple have not only learned to live with, but in a perverse way are
even finding comforting. Finally we have Resting Place by David
Campton which sees and old man, gently played by Frank Welbourne and his
wife, played by Michelle Whitfield again, taking a short cut, or maybe a
detour, through the cemetery, a place, she says, you can sit down an
watch flowers all year round. He is more interested in getting home for his
tea, she is worried about what the future, rapidly becoming the present,
holds for them. The local bookie has died and even has orchids in
his floral tribute. He is interred in his family grave, something she
doesn’t have. She worries they will be buried in old graves with
strangers, not be together, have no white marble angels – angels being
her thing. All her husbands fault for not being a
millionaire like the bookie. He, happy in his life as a shoemaker,
doesn’t worry about what happens when they are dead, to him it doesn’t
matter he just wants his tea. And perhaps he is right, tea is more important
for the living, and off the old couple go for pikelets and jam and
kippers for tea, another day of life ticked off. Director Jane Lush has done a fine job with what
are effectively eight plays, all different, involving eight actors, all
providing an evening of varied entertainment which is at times thought
provoking, at times sad, at times funny, but always interesting. To
24-06-23 Roger Clarke 21-06-23 |
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