|
|
|
|
|
|
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. |
|
|
Life though the bottom of a glass
Flashpoint: Mark Earey and Linda Phillips as the warring, bickering landlord and lady who have an unspoken, unfaced past which is eating away at their lives Two Moorpool Players The Moorpool Hall, Harborne **** PERHAPS Jim Cartwright's celebrated
two-hander from 1989 should have been renamed 14 for this Moorpool
production with a different actor for each of the myriad of characters
that populate Cartwright's working class Northern pub. Not that that detracts from a play that is a
collection of snapshots of regulars, all linked in some way beyond their
habit of knocking them back in the local. We have the old woman, played with matter of fact
despair by Tricia Martin, bemoaning caring for her invalid, incontinent
husband who she sees as taking away what is left of her life. Her early
evening drink in the pub at the end of the day is her reward, her only
pleasure, Then there is John Healey as the old man whose
wife is still with him, even though she has died. He gets his comfort
from still feeling her presence, it helps him face a life of lonliness. We have Moth, played by Richard Quarmby, who sees
himself as God's gift to women, or indeed anything vaguely female with a
pulse. He no so much uses girlfriend Maudie, played by
Laura King, as lives off her body and soul until his Saturday Night
Fever moment by the juke box turns into Casualty and suddenly
put-upon Maudie has the upper hand as he has the cream crackered lower
back. No such luck for Lesley, though, played by
Caroline Alderton, under the thum and probably fist of Roy, played by
Andrew Miles, one of life's inadequates, taking his own failings and
frustrations out on his wife.
She is cowed and submissive, frightened of her
own shadow not so much accepting her relationship with the bullying Roy
as being terrified not to which makes her explosion all the more
dramatic. As a contrast we have Mr and Mrs Iger, played by
Liz Bridgewater and Andrew Miles. Miles is the only doubled up actor and shows not
only a quick change of clothes but an impressive change of character
from thug to hen pecked in the blink of an eye. Mrs Iger is a domineering woman who tells us, and
her husband, in no uncertain terms that she likes big, commanding men
and spends her life barking out orders and belittling her small and
remarkable meek husband who even when he exerts his miniscule authority
– taking drinks for the untended bar – get it wrong and gets it in the
neck. But for all their differences we find that there is still an
underlying affection there. Our final couple among the customers is Alice and
. . . one would have expected Fred from the original but he is
unheralded and instead we have a man played by Des Lea who acts as a
foil, a silent partner for many of the characters, who sits in silence
as Alice rambles on. Sam Bloxham does a good job but somehow the
pathos and humour of the scene of a couple who are content, or at least
have accepted their lot, has become lost without Fred.
Alice is not nature's brightest, has a fixation
on Elvis, TV and old westerns and perhaps a few psychiatric issues that
could be looked at but she comes over a bit too much as a nutter we can
dismiss rather than as a real person introduced to us by Cartwright. As a monologue without the interaction with Fred
it never really works. Mary Ruane then gives us the other woman, the bit
of stuff on the side, tight blouse and even tighter leather skirt, who
is there to confront the married man with who she is having an affair as
he drinks in the pub with his wife. We know she is on a loser and ultimately so does
she as she lets him leave without any attempt at confrontation – a bit
still on the side. The final character is supposedly a young boy,
played by Dan Birch, which never quite comes off. This penultimate scene
of the young lad who had been left on the steps of the pub with a bottle
of pop and a bag of crisps, who thinks he has been forgotten by his dad
is critical – it is the catalyst to what follows, the dramatic final
scene. Yet somehow it didn't quite work, those not
familiar with the play would hardly understand or recognize that this
was a young lad abandoned by a parent – the trigger to open the
floodgates to the seven years or hate, despair and anguish that was to
follow. Dan also plays a homeless man, not in the
original play, who seems to drift from scene to scene which perhaps does
not help with characterization as the young boy when we have already
seen him hanging around in the bar wolfing down a hand-out cheese
sandwich. Whether that scene works or not it still brings
us to the real stars of this show Mark Eavey as the gaffer and Linda
Phillips as the landlady, he a keep the till tinkling man, she chatting
with the customers, the friendly landlady, friendly to anyone but her
husband. They have been the cement holding the whole thing
together from the start, running the pub, dealing with the customers and
bickering and sniping with each other.
It is only in the final emotional scene when we
find why and if you think what went before was good this final scene
leaves everything else in its wake. The pair are just outstanding,
acting of the highest order which left a few eyes glistening as their
tragic tale unfolded. John Bolt on lighting did a good job,
highlighting monologues and duolgues unobtrusively while Tax Mason, John
Healey and Brian Phillips, who was also responsible for sound, deserve a
huge pat on the back for an excellent set which was a close as you will
get to an 80's pub without having to apply for a licence. Director Debbie Scattergood has done a good job
in tying it all together with a cast increased by a factor of seven.
With a cast of just two there is a natural continuity, an obvious unity
as the same actors display the chameleon art of theatre. With a cast of 14 keeping it as a whole play
rather than a collection of disparate scenes became that much harder and
she and her cast managed it with some style – and we can all raise a
glass to that. Roger Clarke |
|
|
|
Nothing at all wrong with the performance, it just needs more visual
help for the audience to see we are seeing the tears and pleas of a
young boy.