SHADOWLANDS

SHADOWLANDS

Sudbury Dramatic Society at the Quay Theatre

03.03.16

for Sardines

Shadowlands tells the true, often tragic, story of the relationship between C S Lewis, the Oxbridge academic now best remembered for Narnia, and Joy Gresham, an American admirer. William Nicholson's literate script evokes wonderfully well the pleasure and the pain of this remarkable late-flowering love. The theology and the soul-searching form a rich back-drop to the unique romance of a buttoned-up, reticent Englishman in late middle age and the younger fan from New York City who sends him long letters and reads him her poetry.

Peter Drew's production moves smoothly from The Kilns, near Oxford, to a hospital ward, to Greece. The cosy “midden” of the room Jack shares with his brother Warnie is convincingly recreated stage left, with the rest of the action against black walls and drapes.

Some fine performances make for an emotional, thought-provoking evening of drama.

Lewis himself – tweeds, tie-clip and a warm, comfortable voice – is played by Neil Arbon. I'm not sure he'd cut it in the “intellectual elite” of the 50s, but he captures well the heart-searching and the anguish of the “foolish, frightened old man” as he seeks to reconcile this vale of suffering with his belief in a loving God. His key scene with the boy Douglas [an impressively confident Alex Ray – neat parting, suede shoes, comfy cardigan] is especially moving. Denis Brogan is absolutely right as the toper Warnie – double-breasted old buffer. And Heidi Bernhard-Bubb makes a poised, feisty, straight-talking poet. The awful, misogynist denizens of High Table are well suggested, particularly by Christopher Suckling as the atheist Professor Riley and Ian Pritchard-Witts as the pin-striped cleric Harrington.

Though Douglas is deprived of his Wardrobe moment, there are some telling scenes: the rain on the roof of the Register Office [and Warnie's expression as he signs his name], the grouping round the bedside for the wedding, the standard lamp, the tea-tray. The static semi-circle of academics lacks energy, perhaps, and it is a relief when Joy takes off the [superbly period] little hat that keeps her eyes in shadow.

Music is sparingly but effectively used – an eclectic playlist including Arvo Part and the sadly neglected County Durham composer John Garth.

A polished production of a compellingly moving, well-made play.

CIDER WITH ROSIE

CIDER WITH ROSIE

Sudbury Dramatic Society at the Quay Theatre

13.05.15

for Sardines

Laurie Lee's elegiac account of his Gloucestershire boyhood, adapted with affectionate fidelity by James Roose Evans, is brought to the Quay by an excellent ensemble.

Directed by Neil Arbon, the company people the little stage with the extended family and village community. A rustic cart brings Mrs Lee and her brood to Bank Cottages – the same carrier's cart carries her simple deal coffin to the graveyard. Furniture is hauled on and off, carefully rearranged. Subtle lighting [Tim Foster] suggests the passing seasons.

In this version, much of the poetry, and the story, is entrusted to the narrator, an older Laurie looking back some forty years. Peter Drew is a compelling presence, bringing the words to life with a gentle passion. His younger self, the boy Loll who starts school, discovers the seaside, sings carols and tastes paradise under the hay wagon, is excellently done by Matthew Byham, equally convincing as the unwilling infant and the innocent who succumbs to the sweet charms of Rosie Burdock. His mother, recalling her days downstairs in the big house, almost missing the bus, collecting china, is Sarah Harvey-Wade, eloquently suggesting the stress of the single parent and her unconditional love for her family, and her husband long disappeared.

Strong support from a huge cast: Sarah Byham, Emma Hewett and Sadie Belsey as the girls, Alex Ray a sparkling presence as little Tony, Linda Dowdall as Granny Trill, combing her bits and consulting Old Moore, Denis Brogan in four fine cameos. And many more.

Sometimes the action might be more fluid – getting off the charabanc at Weston, for instance – and the noisy chairs sometimes threaten to drown out the narration. But there are many memorable scenes – Laurie whistling to bring the company on at the start, with Tony bursting out beaming from behind his mother's skirts – the huddle of carol singers, the girls having their hair done while the boys are in bed, the Babylon moments, the soliloquy with the schoolroom behind, and the moving ending, with young Loll picking up the roses, about to become the poet who has been leading us through his early life. There they are, in the line-up, with Lee's spirit also kept alive by the solemn young fiddler who accompanies the curtain calls.

And in the interval, the lads and lasses from Slad were pressed into service to hand round the food – savoury tarts, sausage rolls, and, less commonly found in the Cotswolds a century ago, delicious parmesan baskets ...

PALM WINE AND STOUT

PALM WINE AND STOUT

Eastern Angles at the Quay Theatre Sudbury

18.03.2014

for The Public Reviews

Segun Lee-French's fascinating play is embarking on a major regional tour, in a revised version, with a new cast.

First seen in 2010, it tells of a young British man of mixed race, who follows the voice of a child which leads him back to the land of his fathers.

Played by Ricci McLeod, Taiye comes across as impatient and intolerant at first, as he smells the air of home and encounters an alien culture with its unfamiliar customs and endemic corruption.

He's accompanied on his quest by his mother [Sioned Jones], generous to a fault, thrilled to be meeting Taiye's Nigerian father Abraham again.

There to meet them, and act as go-between, is half-brother Femi – very persuasively played by Itoya Osagiede, who was also a convincing paterfamilias – with further wives and blood relatives waiting in the village - Antoinette Marie Tagoe [a survivor from the 2010 tour] is Stella, and Aunt Cynthia, amongst other great characters.

Lee-French's writing is often poetical; the narrative is compelling, if occasionally slow. Ivan Cutting's production is gloriously theatrical, with the four actors playing a myriad of parts, plucking costume detail from four well-stocked hat-stands.

The travellers' luggage – almost lost to predatory taxi-drivers - becomes a car, a bus, a corpse and even the awkward bed that the “white boy” shares with his father. The show begins with a colourful carnivalesque procession, and ends with a curtain-call blessing for our journey home – the music, a key part of this immersive experience, is directed by Clement Ule.

We know little of Taiye's life in the UK – a middle class education, with cello lessons, and a good, if demanding job. But it is fascinating to share his encounter with the culture that is in his blood – the juju, the different concepts of time, and of money, and the powerful forces at work in the village and the extended family. It was Taiye's “shamanistic hypnotherapist” who set him off on his quest: his restless twin brother Kehinde, who died in infancy, begs to be taken back to be with his ancestors. It seems a pity that this plot strand is not more fully resolved, instead we “see” a mysterious third son whose appearance ends the play.

But the key moment – a phone call taken at a wedding back in the UK – is very effectively done; the mantle of his father the Chief falls on Taiye, and, in a marvellously dramatic moment, he dons the old man's spirit mask and robe.

An eventful, often humorous, personal journey to the heart of Africa and a sense of identity.

production photograph: Mike Kwasniak

this piece first appeared on The Public Reviews

JOHN CLARE

THE LONG LIFE AND GREAT GOOD FORTUNE OF JOHN CLARE

EasternAngles at the Quay Theatre Sudbury

26.03.13

Peasant poet John Clare was born and died in East Anglia, and its countryside inspired much of his work. Eastern Angles are touring this new play around that same region; I saw it in the Quay Theatre, Sudbury, which Clare would have known, had he encountered it on his travels, as part of a busy little port on the Stour.

There have been many words written about poor Clare. The myths and legends are alluded to in Tony Ramsay's piece, but its full title reminds us that, despite the demons and the blue devils,  the poet lived to see 70, and had many admirers and supporters throughout his career.

James Turner's simple design – based on Clare's Helpston cottage, where an early version of this piece premièred last year – has reeds and teazels, a garden shed, decking with table and chairs and the all-important hat-stand for the costume changes.

For the three actors play many parts, changing from Clare's time to ours in a twinkling.

First we meet John, making notes and consulting a well-thumbed, post-it punctuated binder, listening to Neil Diamond and reading the poems, – "I am …" the ingenious link here. He's joined by Melody, a psychiatrist, and it becomes evident that he has many of the symptoms of autism – he recites word for word not only verses but the pub listings for The Blue Bell and the Exeter Arms. Melody's partner, Rafe, is trying to pitch a drama-doc about the gypsy poet – there is conflict between "the shrink and the storyteller". John is convinced he is Clare – they share an all-pervading sense of loss - and the "thorned and narrow road" merges magically with the "scenes where man has never trod", as we move towards some understanding of these two troubled minds, and a final symbolic act which is one of the finest moments of theatre I've seen in a long while. To say more of the resolution of these two stories would spoil the suspense and the sense of discovery. You should see this fine piece of work for yourself – it's touring the region until May 18.

The performances are superb – almost unbearably moving in this intimate space. Richard Sandells is wonderful as poet and patient; they are not the same, their sufferings are not identical, but the one constantly illuminates the other. Louise Mai Newberry is Melody, as well as one of the "two wives", a society lady and a flower seller, while Henry Devas is the good doctor Skrimshire as well as the obstinate "Mr Zhang".

Ivan Cutting's direction is clear and uncluttered; he lets the words, and the actors, speak, and the mood is often light, the action and the emotion always compelling. And at the end of the two hours, you will certainly want to read more by, and about, John Clare, and maybe listen to more Neil Diamond …

Delighted to catch the show again in the slightly less evocative surroundings of the Cramphorn; the story of the "nineteenth century farmhand and poetic genius", born with a sense of loss, just as powerful. More keenly aware of the parallels within the structure - Mrs Emerson and Mrs Zhang, for instance. And the echoes of Curious Incident and Equus a little more insistent ...

I am, yet what I am none cares or knows
My friends forsake me like a memory lost
I am the self-consumer of my woes
They rise and vanish in oblivious host
Like shadows in love's frenzied, stifled throes
And yet I am, and live, like vapours tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise
Into the living sea of waking dreams
Where there is neither sense of life or joys
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
Even the dearest, that I loved the best
Are strange - nay, rather stranger than the rest

I am
I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all

Not even the chair