THE MUMBLE : Hi, Gerry, so how is the Dirt Under the Carpet project coming together?

GERRY : It’s coming together well (I hope!). Karen and Joyce are working very well together and we are discovering new things about the play and the characters every day. The play takes place in one setting but it crosses a few different time zones between the past, the present and limbo when Karen talks to the audience. Finding the transitions has been a bit tricky but I think we have cracked it!

THE MUMBLE : Can you tell us a little about the play?

GERRY : The show is transferring to Aberdeen after it opens in Glasgow, and it’s part of the Granite Noir Festival there and is a great thriller/mystery….apart from that I’m not giving anything away! No spoilers here!

THE MUMBLE :The playwright, Rona Munro, has had recent spectacular success with The James Plays. Dirt Under the Carpet is very different from an epic historical trilogy – how do you feel Rona has handled the change in tempo & scope?

GERRY :I would never even dare to make comment on how Rona has handled that. I’m not a writer. I can only talk about the experience of her plays from my own perspective as a director and actor. To me she is an absolute genius. The first play I directed was Iron by Rona and I kind of fell in love with her language and style and most importantly these amazing characters she writes. I know these people, I’ve met them, grown up with them. They mean something to me….I’m sure I sound like an absolute wanker there but it is true!

THE MUMBLE : How are your two actresess – Joyce Falconer and Karen Fishwick – getting on with their roles?

GERRY : Very well I think. They are finding some lovely stuff. Joyce has been very generous in helping Karen and I with the accent and she has a great presence on stage. Karen is wonderful, she is really making the part her own. She always finds something new in the character each time we rehearse and as a director that is a really exciting thing to watch. They are working very well together and creating a real, fully formed relationship between them. It’s quite a complex play and they are really making it work (don’t tell them I said that though!)

Joyce Falconer

THE MUMBLE : What emotions should next week’s PPPP (play, pie, pint, punter) expect to be stirred by Dirt Under the Carpet?

GERRY : I have no idea. I really don’t. It’s not my intention to try to make them feel anything. I’m really enjoying watching these two great actors work with a fantastic script and a great story. I hope we can do it justice. I can’t possibly predict what emotions it may stir up….

THE MUMBLE : What does the rest of 2017 have in store for Gerry Lynch?

GERRY : We transfer to The Lemon Tree and then after that I go back to acting and assistant directing The Lions Of Lisbon which will tour across Scotland. I’ve also got a monthly pub theatre by my company UnSub Actors that I’m setting up at the Citz (hopefully) where we will do staged readings of some classic Scottish plays. We also have workshops set up with Kahleen Crawford, Danny Jackson a new writing workshop with Philip Howard and Martin McCormick,  a theatre workshop with Gareth Nichols, a workshop with Shakespeare’s Globe and Mike Alfreds, and hopefully a Shakespeare workshop with Lu Kemp and Liz Lochead. Apart from that I’m just going to go up the road to see my 2 wee boys and my beautiful Ginger wife Marianne X

***********

Dirt Under The Carpet will be playing at the Oran Mor

Feb 13-18th (1PM)

THE MUMBLE : Have you been to Scotland before?
SATINDER : When I had just started writing for theatre, I was accepted on a residency at the Traverse Theatre in Edinburgh. It was a beautiful baptism – developing my play ‘Lotus Beauty’, lodging, meeting and chatting with other writers and discovering exciting Edinburgh – perhaps most memorably when I decided to scale Arthur’s Seat and not even a quarter of the way up, got knocked over by the blustery winds and slid right back down the hill on my very muddy backside! I’d love to spend more time in Scotland. As a huge Liverpool fan, Kenny Dalglish is a hero – my sister and I supported Scotland (and Brazil of course) in the 1982 World Cup. We still have Scotland’s World Cup song ‘We Have a Dream’ on 7” vinyl! So Scotland has always been close to my footie and political heart and I’m so proud the play is touring there.

—

THE MUMBLE : What was the original idea or story that sparked Made in India?
SATINDER : I was applying for the Adopt A Playwright award and was inspired by a shocking article about a white middle class English woman who paid an Indian village surrogate to birth her baby. (My play!) The woman described her surrogate as a ‘vessel’. With my Indian village roots, the surrogate could have been any number of my female relatives or if my parents hadn’t emigrated to the UK, even me. The story was loaded with so much conflicting emotion, culture and politics, I knew I had to write a play around the situation, to explore and understand its fertile terrain. I submitted the idea, won the award, began writing the play. I think the story also chimed because there had been instances of altruistic egg donation in my community. So I had always wondered about the generosity of one woman towards another in those situations, wondered what drove a woman to offer her eggs to another, to have a baby for another, without payment. So commercial surrogacy in which both strangers and payment were involved was fascinating to me.

—

THE MUMBLE : Why this play now? (Global and local relevance)
SATINDER : Globally and locally, we’re living in a time when there is a serious conflict between rampant financial markets and human morals – more often than not, morals are sacrificed for markets. Through market fundamentalism and the ‘commodification of everything’, everything is for sale in our neoliberal times including education, health, emotions, bodies…and women like these surrogates have to sell themselves to make a living, literally. When I began the play, commercial surrogacy was rife in many countries. During the writing process, India, Nepal, Thailand and Cambodia introduced surrogacy bans. In India, the ban feels like a nationalist reaction against global neoliberalism and a right-wing government trying to realign India with traditional family values – altruistic surrogacy is allowed but only for childless Indian couples – not gay people, singles or foreigners. Yet it is also a nationalism that has raised questions about the reproductive freedoms of women and use of reproductive techniques in these countries. So the play and surrogacy itself is a topical lens through which our changing global and local political landscape is filtered. It’s a compelling story about gender, economics, reproductive technology and ethics that continues unfolding across nations in the real world outside.

—

THE MUMBLE : The play is set in Gujurat – is that your native state & how did you end up in the UK
SATINDER : My family is actually from Punjab, which neighbours Gujarat in India. But as in Gujarat, commercial surrogacy was big business in Punjab too.
I was born and brought up in Southall, West London, widely known as ‘Little India’ or ‘Little Punjab’, with all its Indian and Pakistani shops and restaurants, gurdwaras, mandirs and mosques. So I consider myself a Punjabi Londoner more than anything else! My grandparents came to the UK from Punjab in the late 1950s and my parents in the late 1960s. We’ve lived in Southall ever since.

—

THE MUMBLE : Can you tell us how you got involved with Tamasha & the Belgrade Theatre
SATINDER : After my first play ‘Zameen’, I began developing a new play ‘Lotus Beauty’, set in an Asian beauty salon, with Tamasha. Later, Tamasha’s then Artistic Directors Sudha Bhuchar and Kristine Landon-Smith nominated me for the Adopt A Playwright Award, which I won with the idea for ‘Made in India’. Fin Kennedy was actually on the interview panel and during my Adopted Year, became my (exceptional) mentor/dramaturg as I began writing the play. In a serendipitous turn of events, he later became the new Artistic Director at Tamasha and took the play with him, where we continued developing the piece. It’s now his first main production as Tamasha’s Artistic Director and it feels so fitting we’ve come full circle back to Tamasha with it. Belgrade Theatre came on board as co-producers later on. We’ve just enjoyed a fantastic run of the play in Coventry with them – such an excellent, supportive place for new writing.

THE MUMBLE : Tamasha is unusual in having a playwright as Artistic Director, what does this bring to the creative process?
SATINDER : It brings a highly talented individual to the creative process – an Artistic Director, playwright and dramaturg rolled into one! It’s a supremely skilled all-rounder who can focus on the smallest detail in the text, while keeping an eye on the bigger picture of a possible production. It helped the process hugely that Fin is a writer too. He easily understood my creative objectives, obstacles and was always quick to suggest a wealth of dramatic solutions. As a writer, he could help me shape the drama much more effectively than I could alone as he could easily understand the play I was trying to write and help me work out the best possible way of writing it.

—

THE MUMBLE : How have you worked together, as two writers, to develop the play?
SATINDER : From the beginning of our 15 plus drafts (!), I would write a draft and then we would have the most brilliant, searching, synergistic dialogues about the play that went on for hours! From talking about the play itself, to character details, surrounding issues, transactions, politics, neoliberalism, reproductive technologies, infertility and so on…It would take a couple of days to all process but was massively helpful in moving onto the next draft. We did this intermittently for about three years – discussion, draft, feedback, discussion, draft, feedback etc. During my Adopt A Playwright Award year, we also had three rehearsed readings and another reading and intensive workshop later, so other vital feedback from directors and actors also pushed the play on dramatically. About a year and a half ago, when I thought I was finally finished with the play, the Indian government decided to ban surrogacy. That decision upended a lot of the play and so we had to reshape the story, which took a few more discussions and drafts, expanding and contracting til the final distilled version of the play! After director Katie Posner came on board, Fin took a step back. For the last few drafts of the play, Katie and I have been drafting and discussing together, although thankfully, Fin continues to feedback into that process too. I’ve just learnt so much from my work and all those creative discussions with him – it’s been an intensive, invaluable process and an incredible experience working with him.

—

THE MUMBLE : What do you hope the audience will leave the theatre thinking, feeling, wanting to do?
SATINDER : I hope the audience will be emotionally affected by the play because while it’s about surrogacy, it’s also about the bigger interconnected neoliberal world we live in. In the UK, we’re all privileged Westerners and consumers who rely on marginalised workers all over the world to provide the material stuff of our lives. In that power dynamic, we are the ones who can afford to blank out who those people/workers are and what their lives are actually like. I hope this play is a small reminder of the people who inhabit those worlds, their lives and struggles, who create and build our worlds from afar. Even though commercial surrogacy is a very complicated issue, I don’t think it’s right that we live in a world where a village woman delivers a baby for a more affluent woman for money. The surrogate should not be so financially disadvantaged and socially neglected that she is driven to deliver babies for money. So I hope the audience thinks about the inequitable world we live in, the way that our consumer and materialistic, ‘everything is for sale’ lives and attitudes impact on less fortunate others in other parts of the world. I really hope some audience members might feel compelled to do something about those inequities in their own lives or the lives of less fortunate others.

—

THE MUMBLE : What advice do you have to aspiring young playwrights?

SATINDER : Choose another profession! Haha, I jest. For all its endless challenges, I’m glad I ended up here. It’s incredibly tough to survive as a writer, so I’d say, be patient, work hard, keep developing your voice and honing your work, keeping it true and honest. Also, find a paid job on the side that complements the writing because playwriting sure doesn’t pay. I’ve had to rely hugely on the generosity of family and friends to write – I don’t own a house, a car, material possessions, have kids – I’ve tried to streamline my life so that I live to write – but I’m an extreme example. If you simply have to write, you will find a way to make it work for you. Also, don’t compare yourself to other writers – everyone grows and develops as a writer at their own pace, in their own way, telling their own stories – you have to stay firmly on your own path, voice it and write it as strongly and uniquely as only you can.

MADE IN INDIA

Is on at the Tron Theatre, Glasgow, 8th-11th February 

THE MUMBLE : Hello Marion, so Anne Frank is coming up soon at the Bedlam Theatre, how is it going?

MARION :It’s going very very well as a matter of fact, a week before the show and the actors know their lines, we’re already doing full runs, have all the props ready and are selling really well. For a first show as a director, I am blessed! I like to think that my background of producer has helped the organisation, but also I am working with a very hard-working bunch.

—

THE MUMBLE : How well does Wendy Kesselman’s script bring out the original book.
MARION : There was a lot of criticism with the first version of the play written by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett. I did read it, and thought something was odd. I remembered The Diary of Anne Frank as being a piece of literature that was all about the hope, the everyday, the fights, the fear but the first version tended to be a ‘feel-good’ sort of play which is odd. Wendy Kesselman has brought back the Jewish components and seriousness this subject needs. Yet it respects the tone of Anne Frank. It is a very emotional play, not only because it has a tragic end, it is emotional because it will make the audience go through all the range of possible emotions in 1h45 min, following the2 years of the inhabitants; Sometimes it’s really funny, because Anne, who was a very funny, very energetic girl, made a joke, and then it can before fearful, and then sad. It is a play about the Holocaust, but also a play about family, about growing up, about living in extreme conditions, about human feelings. Some might find that this script is still ‘not sad enough’, but Otto Frank approved it and he’s the supreme authority in that regard.

THE MUMBLE : How difficult has it been to recreate the secret annex on stage
MARION : Not so difficult/ We went to Amsterdam to visit the house of Anne Frank during Christmas. The set is obviously not an exact replica of the annex and we’re doing with what we can and our budget but the set and stage managers Neb and Kitty are absolute stars! I can’t wait to see it.

THE MUMBLE : Can you tell us about your cast for the play, & how they are blending together
MARION :This cast is incredible. Each of them is just perfect for the role. The characters all have very different personalities, which makes living together really difficult.

THE MUMBLE : As people, everyone really gets along, and rehearsals are really nice.
MARION : As character, it really feels like everyone has their own personality. we worked a lot on character development, using passages from the diary, and improvising from that. I had a chat with each actor to talk about their character, they made research on the background. The characters all very complex and human. It’s pretty incredible to see how far we’ve gone, in terms of becoming the characters since the first rehearsal.

THE MUMBLE : What do you expect the audience member to be thing about, ruminating on, as they leave the theatre.
MARION : The most important, I hope they’ll remember that the Holocaust is more than a big name for a horrible historical event, and that the death of Jews is so much more than a figure. I hope they’ll remember it’s about real people. Obviously I am expecting them to be sad. But I hope, they’ll understand that the joyful moments in the play are here to remind them that the victims of the Holocaust are real people who also had fun in their lives. Sadly, the play is still very relevant, and O hope that it will make people think: refugees are more than refugees, there are individuals, same with victims of the Syrian War and so many other places. Maybe the media tends to presents facts, and forgets to remember the lives of these people and their feelings. Hopefully this play reclaims the humanity of the victims of history.

THE MUMBLE : Could children enjoy your production

MARION : One of my main aim for this production was to have children to come because it is such a good educational piece but honestly I have found it harder than planned to market toward schools and younger children. There is no violence at all on stage and most of the play is every day life in hiding, but still there are a couple scenes that are emotionally quite intense.  Then, with BOB, we were quite surprised to see very young children in the audience – I don’t think they could understand everything but seemed to enjoy it, and that was way more bold and adult.  I think children will really enjoy it and that will be an amazing educational entertainment as well, but would keep in mind that some scenes are not easy.

THE MUMBLE : What does 20176 have in store for Marion Bretagne
MARION :I am afraid this is as far I as know, my last theatre production. I am moving to Porto in May after I graduate to work in a Design Agency. I hoping that maybe when the time comes, I can do some theatre in English in some European cities after my day job but for now, no big plans theatre-wise.

Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

January 15-28

Script:   Stagecraft:   Performance: 

Seeing Tom Wright’s adaptation of Joan Lindsay’s iconic Australian story in its first run outside of its home country was a real treat. Although feeling apprehensive about the psychological horror I knew we were going to witness, I was excited, knowing that the cast had been on their long flight over just days before. A collaboration between Australia’s Malthouse Theatre and the Black Swan State Theatre Company, and directed by Matthew Lutton, this powerful retelling of the original story manages to create a well rounded and highly believable show using just five young female cast members. Harriet Gordon-Anderson, Arielle Gray, Amber McMahon, Elizabeth Nabben and Nikki Shiels pull us with them on a emotionally harrowing journey back to Valentine’s Day, 1900, when three schoolgirls and their teacher disappeared while climbing in the outback. Harnessing their incredible versatility and equally commanding stage presence, they created a compelling ninety minute performance.

The play opens with the girls narrating the story as a group of modern schoolgirls; their crisp, delineated school uniforms strangely bringing both an air of ancient authority and youthful freshness to their words. The modern uniforms are an enduring symbol of both belonging and exclusion, fittingly, as the play explores those notions of the fear of the ‘Other’; that ‘other’ also encompassing ‘unacceptable’ feelings within oneself. Wright’s script still hints at the tentative, metaphysical exploration into the mystical nature of Time that was central to Lindsay’s personal experience, that past, present and future are all one. It also underscored the continued relevance of the story, that we should wake up and pay attention, now we are faced with the devastating social, psychological and ecological effects of colonialism; the fractures in our psyche, our lack of unity as human beings and disregard for the natural world. This story, written in 1966 in a matter of a month, explores the damaging psychological effect of colonisation on the colonisers themselves. Perhaps the story lingers as an indelible stain on the Australian psyche because the history of a ruthless and violent near-extermination of Aboriginal people over centuries, is, on the whole, still repressed and denied.

It’s testament to the talent of all the actors, that they able to embody so many different characters between them, and make us believe in them all. Elizabeth Nabben is particularly mesmerising as the perfectly-accented English Mrs Appleyard the sadistic headmistress; her repressed violence hinted at from the start by the slightly excitable shine in her stare and the tightness of her lips. We never trust or care for Mrs Appleyard, even when she talks about loss of her husband and her frustration at being in an alien land that she despises. It’s hard to peel our eyes from her calculated and vicious abuse as we wish we could help rebellious but powerless, increasingly victimised and broken Sara. Arielle Gray’s twists and slumped body language draw out all our compassion, even without her deferential whispers and agonised whimpers, as we watch her try to survive against the odds.

With such a stark set and small cast, the actors use their voices extremely well, in order to create both variety and atmosphere. As their voices become higher and faster in tandem with the increased sharpness of the discordant music, just like a classic horror film it creates both anxiety within us and a heightened sense of urgency in the atmosphere. Something foul and distressing is about to occur or be revisited, flashing out of the darkness that descends between scenes. It almost doesn’t matter which, from future, past or present, suggesting, as Lindsay did, that distinctions between them are purely a mental construct. With no cathartic rituals of mourning, the colonists’ firm insistence that ‘Nightmares belong in the past’, does nothing to keep traumatic flashbacks of loss, grief and shock at the disappearances on the rock at bay. Denying personal and collective trauma in a form of cultural amnesia always leads to trouble down the line. With a slight descent into a deeper voice and English upper class accent, Amber McMahon transforms into Michael, the visitor obsessed with Miranda, and makes him a real and sympathetic character. In a way, the switching of voices and clothing messes with our binaries of male and female, made all the more interesting because of Lindsay addressing the repression of female sexuality in her book in the late sixties, her allusion to lesbian attractions, and now in this play the homoerotic frisson between the Englishman and Albert the Australian. Albert presents himself to us through Harriet Gordon-Anderson with a more marked change in body language, bolder, wider, with swag. He has a loose way of standing and walking, which shows his freedom as a male, and as an Australian man less constricted by colonial conventions.

There’s a awkward and poignant scene where Irma, played by Nikki Shiels, is trying to navigate a emotionally honest conversation with Michael (Amber McMahon) about their mutual grief at losing Miranda. We can feel their great trauma and loss as they are barely able to corral their emotions within the stifling arena of the constricting social mores of the time. The scene was so sensitively handled that you are rooting for them to present themselves authentically with each other but not to the point where they have a breakdown all over again and be deeply ashamed of their outburst. It’s easy to feel great empathy as the push and pull between both them and their own emotions and defences are so skilfully acted. Miranda is what brings them together as they compete in indirect ways about who loved her more. The simple but dramatic separation of her dainty tea cup from her saucer and splitting them widely apart hints at the loosening up of her own mind, or perhaps an signal that she might crack up completely? She tries so hard to make sense of what has happened to her, yet all she can come up with is ‘I think I am a replacement’ of what she once was. His woodenness increases in relation to her rising ‘hysteria’, acting as an anchor in an expected male Victorian way, and we can understand this as a psychological burden for men at a time of rigid gender roles.

The colonists have brought words for ‘things’, to name in order to ‘own’ what they can categorise, but they have no words to fully illuminate and navigate their emotional worlds. This bubbling magma of emotion finally erupts with vicious and alarming force in the gymnasium. This famously disturbing scene builds with an ominous portent, where we witness the girls’ natural movements regulated, forced and militaristic. Irma is violently attacked by the other girls for what she represents; their impending abandonment and her enviable yet unattainable freedom. This confrontation seems so real that it’s a truly horrifyingly visceral experience to witness. As Appleyard’s frustrations with trying to ‘civilize’ an immature Australia fully coalesce into uninhibited violence, we collectively cringe as she terrorises Sara with impunity.

Irma’s bold assertion that her admiration for Miranda’s loving, intuitive wisdom was far more influential than anything she has learned in school makes Appleyard crack with fury, and her volcano erupts through the fissures. Poor Sara, the most powerless of all the girls due to her situation, has been unable to escape Appleyard’s hatred and violence.The inevitable result of the fear, denial and emotional repression that go hand in hand with the upholding of a class system and the terrorization of Aboriginal communities is a death of spiritual wisdom. However, we are left with the enduring myth of ‘Miranda’ as a symbol of hope for the culture of post-colonial white Australia. Miranda, who loved St.Valentine, a female quasi-Christ, preaching love, communing with nature and valuing the intuition of the heart. We feel the collective pain of her loss, but knowing that true freedom comes from walking a pilgrimage of sorts; to surrender to that which is greater than us. That which cannot be ‘named’, but merely listened to.

Reviewer : Lisa Williams

Lyceum Theatre

Edinburgh

26 November – 31st December

Script:   Stagecraft:    Performance:  

Whether frolicking with one’s family this season, or wanting to spoil yourself if the wee flutterlings are elsewhere, in absentia, the Lyceum’s Alice in Wonderland is a true jewel. This kafkaesque pantomime is a metaphorical glass of bubbly in the middle of the Christmas heave-a-thon, & Lewis Carroll would be like, ‘how the hell did they pull that off,‘ by which I mean the stagecraft conjured by director Anthony Neilson & designer, Francis O’Connor, was quite marvelous, an all-immersive, slightly surreal, costume-clever journey worth the ticket alone.

Performance-wise, all the cast are on top form – they all looked like they were having a ball. Jess Peet makes her debut with a stylish sincerity which belies her years, her commanding stances & mellifluous speeches carving an Alice to remember. Around her, in the multi-tasking ensemble, start-turns abound; Zoe Hunter’s Hookah-puffing Caterpillar & Tam Dean Burn’s Hatter among them. For me, Alan Francis’ Duchess was sublimely entertaining, & I found myself flashbacking to when I went to the pantomime as a child with my gran’s ‘works’ – pure unadulterated childhood joy in a man of 40 years. There was also music, the occasional short set-piece interlude interspersed through the action which worked perfectly.

I’d taken the wife, by the way, & the kids, & all four of us left the Lyceum in the finest of fine spirits. Our seven-year old had giggled through 30 percent of Alice & stared boggle-eyed in wonder at the rest. The wife, who likes the theatre but doesn’t adore it, told me in no uncertain terms that that she’d hardly spare a thought for a seeing a play a second time, but with Alice she would definitely go back. The story of course, is a simple one, & it is not for the story I expect – but what the Lyceum have done with it is wondrous.

Reviewer : Damo Bullen

Oran Mor, Glasgow

14-18 November

Play, Pie, Pint (1pm)

Script:  Stagecraft:    Performance:  

This peach of a play by the late great poet and writer Willie McIlvanney ( Laidlaw, The Papers of Tony Veitch and Walking Wounded )resonates all the more having been revamped since its first airing in 2004. Energetic and genuinely funny insights into the  twists and turns of new divorcee John Mitchell,(Iain Robertson) will have you in stitches, this is Oran Mor’s magical theatrical hour at its shiniest best.

From the set to the lighting – not to mention the audience participation – and finally to the acting itself , this well scripted piece of west coast escapism does just what you want it to, it transports you out of your own head. John, romantic idealist who has nothing to show for his 16 marriage except some spellbindingly funny memories entertains us with words of wisdom as well as his upbeat approach to what can only be called dire circumstances , have you ever seen someone fill the kettle with the water from their hot water bottle?.And make you laugh watching him do it?

Optimist John guides the audience through the antics of his latest love life with patter that is as fresh now as was when penned over a decade ago. Such capers hit the spot because the raw Weegie underworld is never too far away for John, even in the midst of his suave dalliance with Sally who he believed to be ‘ the one.’ His amorous toyings with the lovely Sally end differently than he imagined but there is no doubt that he won the heart of the audience even if he doesn’t manage to find the woman of his dreams.

Excellently directed by Gillies Mackinnon (Small Faces)invited by Robertson who played thirteen year old Lexi in his semi-biographical feature film twenty two years ago to direct McIlvanney’s one man performance. What more could you want? Don’t miss this chance to see this riveting play by the father of Tartan Noir who wrote 1985 movie The Big Man ( Liam Neeson, Billy Connolly) and won a Bafta for his screen adaptation “Dreaming”.

Reviewer : Clare Crines

The Citizens Theatre

Glasgow

November 2-19

Script:  Stagecraft:   Performance:

As the audience filled into the lavishly decorated stalls looking up to see balcony and high ceiling the massive stage was busy with props such as tables and chairs but also alternate clothing rails with what looks like fancy and expensive clothing. The acting began before the play in a way that let us in with a welcoming and relaxed feeling easing us into the heightened evening’s performance.

Dialogue began introducing three characters who were dressed in finery that was French in appearance, in a period where the story of ‘the Rivals’ was set, as rich as though you were there in France. In a sporadic way, or seemingly so, the stage comes to life as a space that was enticingly able to vary its character. First of the scenes suggest to us a drama of large proportions that the backdrop carried. We were invited to observe the stage as an interchangeable medium localised into French stylish fancies.

Classical dialogue ensued well where the characters dress would implicate their positions in society but also in the play. It did a dance between poetry, poetic meaning, and the clause of word of mouth to be acted upon. Self-reflection became a clear motive from about the third act on, as the musical nature of the players who moved in ways to enhance the visual spectacle, now undoubtedly unfolding into the story of love that takes many to understand, undoubtedly a motive for each and every conversation.

One can take two or three steps back during the action and dialogue that played with word, feeling and suggested themes of honour that were particularly bestowed upon the Captain Jack character; who was played well by a soft spoken Rhys Rusbatch an accomplished actor since his days at learning and with the Royal Shakespeare Company. The idea behind looking at characters in this way was no less than a brilliant ploy that moves faster and into better and better shapes we could only see in joy. There was also a very distinct comedic rhetoric that the audience really appreciated and is an inherent part of this style of theatre script.

The introduction of the character Lydia Languish played by experienced actress Lucy Briggs-Owen would have stolen the show from the very beginning if she had not been so taught, and had a semi innocent brashness moving from ecstasy to laying her comedic self upon the stage floor. The backdrop provided their separating function well, partly because of the sheer size of the stage, and because they moved the feelings of the scenes and thus coincided with the acting and dialogue. This was another display of experience and adherence to the idea that is the art of playmaking including a side splitting aw that serious acting can spring from.

Lively, active, poetically sincere; a mesh of characters that helped play the field that ultimately was all dedicated to the course of love between well matched couples. The play was served to a great extent by enhancement of everything that went into it, including a distinct emotional bond that had a wealth to it in the form of taking us along for the ride. In the jovial play of characters was the Welshman Bob Acres played by Lee Mengo who was a strong character though fraught with weakness and then actively participated in a great crescendo of the play where comedy tied together meaning for character and the unfolding discourse.

An element of persuasion does dominate the sense of scenes but it was never despaired upon in more reflective moments. On the theme of reflecting it was Sir Anthony Absolute’s character who offered sense to dialogues but he too developed a dodgy sense of humour as he guides the play into a sense of Captains Jacks honour as a man. Mrs Malaprop (the most comedic name), played by Julie Legrand had perhaps the largest role in her fancy costumes, she wore two dresses one red the other lilac. To call this play expert would I think be missing the point of an evening such as this. There was a touch of pantomime but it was only a hint of it because the play was more seriously governed as a play to contend with and in the quality behind it. Mrs Malaprop was the device behind the desire that   Captain Jack and Lydia who languish should become together in love; a sentiment which she was not alone in. At certain times we could see her solitude, lending her a grace that we could also appreciate.

The most luxurious character had to be Lucy played by Lily Donovan who is a recent graduate from Bristol Old Vic Theatre School. In her we saw the drama of the evening unfold through her heartfelt reasoning and bargaining. We followed her around the stage as she grew in the hearts of us, telling no jokes but also living no lie but to heed the voice of her powerful character. This gave the theme of love a very level direction on the strengths of her alone.

Larger than life, characters, costumes, props, backdrops; this is a night that will hold your attention, marry you to the stage, love the characters, relish in the heady dialogue laugh out loud  at the absurd treatment of some of the dialogue and general sense of the play. Be impressed at the sense of ease, excitement, sometimes enthralling atmosphere of word, language accent delivery, and genuine sense of love that is ultimately where every point turns to. Come along to the Citizens for an evening of entertainment that may enthral you.

Reviewer : Daniel Donnelly

A Play , A Pie and A Pint

Oran Mor, Glasgow

to the 5th November

Script:   Stagecraft:   Performance: 

Thirsty pigs Viv, Coco and Lacey are unwittingly in transit to the slaughterhouse. Viv, a cross-bearing, praying pig (surreal indeed) is trying to make the journey easier for all concerned, but Coco (Claire Cage) is rightly suspicious. From the back of the lorry  we are subjected to an animal rights play that would make eating your lunchtime pie – glad I chose quiche – a tad hard to swallow.

As was this week’s Oran Mor play. To a less than packed out theatre we encounter non-conformist Coco, more of a sow-preferring pig than a hog-chaser with her faux punk look. At least she wants to escape unlike Viv (Sally Reid), whose solution to everything is to kneel down and burst into prayer. Dippy Lacey (Michele Gallagher) can’t see beyond herself and is a sandwich short of a picnic anyway so we can’t really relate to her and her aspiring pig/actress role —– ‘ petrified porker….the trotter awards wait for no pig.’

This questionable comedy by Kelly Jones examines why we slaughter animals for food and clothing and questions the ethics in doing so. This is a subject with zero humour, let’s face it – we like our meat to remain tasty with no reminders of the trauma the animals went through. Despite knowing that the actresses were doing the best they could and did manage to raise a smile a few times , the whole sad tail (pig body part thrown in just to show you how annoying the pig humour was and not a typo ) was a chore and I wouldn’t recommend it, sorry.

Reviewer   :  Clare Crines

Lyceum Theatre

Edinburgh

27 October -12 November 2016

Script:  Stagecraft:    Performance:  

Jumpy feels like a generic play, but of a new genre completely – the hyper-realistic account of a world in which social-media opens every aspect of our life to public scrutiny. The presiding theme of the play is the domestic & social tensions which arise between a teenage girl & her middle-aged mother. Very much a first hand account, its playwright April de Angelis, told the Mumble; ‘I wrote Jumpy around the time I turned 50 & my daughter 16. Two iconic ages in the same household lead for a stormy year which then inspired a play. It’s not a ‘true story’ per se but the feeling of being in, what was for me, uncharted parental territory was true. Writing the play also allowed me to reflect on other thoughts that year had given me; was the very liberal parenting style we had adopted the best? Did it sometime backfire on us?’

The stage we first encounter is slickly excellent – all the trappings of modern life heaped up jumble-grumblingly with a crumbling wallpaper & a fridge full of white wine. This is the universal nest of the disfunctional family unit – the wild teenager providing the main catalyst to a marriage held together through habit. Her name is Molly Vevers, her part Tilly, & she gives a razor-sharp account of her role – the rebellious harrumphing groan she made at one point being an uncanny audiomatch to our 9 year-old’s own protestations against parental authority. Indeed, this is one of the chief qualities of Jumpy – its universality, its warm embraces of reality – we’ve all been there in one form or another.

Jumpy is also very funny. Every scene has at least one power-gag, & there is a sprinkling of titter-spiraling thespian jokes provided by Lyceum stalwart Richard Conlon’s Roland. ‘I’m worried about you!’ sighs Gail Watson’s warmly raw Frances to her daughter… ‘Well, I’m worried about you, you’re fuckin’ mental,’ snaps back Vevers to her ‘mentalpausal’ mother. Into the mix we have plenty of modernisms – bodysonic dance floor, vagina necks & facebook sluts – plus a wicked wee sound track to boot. All these flavour the entertaining sub-plots which weave in & out of each other towards a deliciously delicate denoument. Televisual & quite sitcommy at times, & at others as if they were performing in your front room, Jumpy remains interesting throughout… perhaps fading from its high engagement factor a little towards the end – its almost two hours long.

The whole thing felt like an unconscious rebirth of the Commeddia Dell’Arte tradition of 16th century Italy: when various plots were played out by the same comedic stereotypes. Five centuries later these stereotypes have changed somewhat : the teenage pregnancy, the age-defying cougar, the shiver-grunting EMO, are what we moderns understand today. In an earlier interview, director Cora Bisset told the Mumble ‘In all honesty, this has been one of the most straightforward and enjoyable processes I’ve experienced. It’s a great play, and April has created these wonderful, recognisable, contemporary characters going through things we all painfully recognise. The tricky part has been finding the balance between the comedy of it and the very real, desolate vulnerability in all of the characters, and to never overstate either side.’ This is what makes Jumpy so excellent – tapping into so many streams of theatrical excellence at the same time, a ridiculously refreshing romp through the dramas that we all experience : domestic diligence, frosty partners, dangerous flirtations. When you watch Jumpy you are watching yourself, & because one should never take oneself too seriously, & neither does Jumpy, this is perhaps the perfect play.