Tag Archives: Ayckbourn

Tons Of Money – February 2009

6/10

Adapted by Alan Ayckbourn from a comedy by Will Evans and Valentine

Directed by Joe Harmston

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Thursday 12th February 2009

Set: standard 20s/30s style living room of the well-to-do. Double doors on the left, fireplace to the right, French windows centre back, with a bit of garden terrace. Sofa centre left, and other chairs and tables round the place or brought on as required.

The set may have been well-to-do, but the couple living in the house certainly weren’t. Aubrey and Louise lived on credit, and had run up so many debts that the husband was due to be declared bankrupt in a week. Into this situation comes a solicitor with news of Aubrey’s brother’s death, and the information that said brother had left him a life interest in his estate, while the capital reverts to a cousin, George Maitland, on Aubrey’s death. It doesn’t take long for the impecunious couple to realise that the life interest, although amounting to several thousands of pounds a year, would soon be gobbled up by the many creditors they’d accrued. Cue a remark or two about the criminality of lending people money and encouraging them to get into debt – I would have thought more people would have laughed. Anyway, the wife is soon hatching a plot for Aubrey to die, then reappear as cousin George, who is believed to have died many years ago in Mexico, though proof has never been forthcoming. All you need to know now is that the butler, Sprules, has overheard part of this plot and snaffles a copy of the will, and that an old school chum of Louise’s, Jean, is due for a visit, at which point she confides that she was also married, briefly, to a man who died out in South America somewhere, and the next two acts pretty much write themselves.

First off, Aubrey reappears disguised as cousin George. Sprules believes this to be his brother Henery, whom he has inveigled to play the part of the missing cousin so they can get the money, and a lot of the humour in these later acts was down to Sprules and his intended, the maid, attempting to communicate with “Henery” using the agreed signals – stroking the elbow, tugging the ear, tapping the nose, and, if all else fails, dropping something, like a tray. There was a lovely scene where Sprules, hidden behind one of the double doors, throws a series of larger and larger trays through the other door in a desperate attempt to alert his brother to danger. Later, when he believes Henery is dead, he’s so caught up in his grief that he completely ignores the real Henery’s signals. It was great fun, and Sprules was beautifully played by Christopher Timothy.

However, neither Henery nor anyone else is dead yet. Once Louise discovers that Jean is married to cousin George, and that Aubrey seems all too ready to get cracking on the honeymoon, she has to think of some other solution to the problem. The solicitor (I assume he’s charging for all these trips from London) informs her that she’s the residuary legatee in the original will – gets all the dosh if George dies first – so she tells Aubrey to go off to the river and drown, as George, then come back later as someone completely different, and then he can marry her, the rich widow.

You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to get a stretch of river all to yourself for a quick spot of drowning, but they manage it in the end. Naturally, Sprules is devastated at losing his brother, and the plot is further thickened when another George Maitland turns up, this time Henery in disguise. He’s also very pleased to find he’s got an attractive wife along with the money, and doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the situation. While he’s chasing Jean round the garden, another George Maitland arrives, this time the real one. With Aubrey reappearing, disguised as a monk, Brother Brown, the final act tests Louise’s wits to the limit. She finally decides that Aubrey will have to come back to life (he was so dazed by the explosion that supposedly carried him off the first time, that he’s been wandering round the area for weeks not knowing who or where he was), only for the much-travelled solicitor to inform them all that the estate, now realised, comes to the grand sum of one pound, a few shillings and some pence.  Still, at least Aubrey and Louise, and George and Jean have all been happily reunited, as have Sprules and Henery.

We’d seen this before at the National, over twenty years ago, and neither of us could remember it at all. This version left me with two impressions – that the humour was mainly in the performance, and that even with Alan  Ayckbourn’s updates for the National production, the piece was still pretty dated. The cast did good work, and we did enjoy ourselves, but either this production didn’t do the piece justice, or it had reached the historical curiosity stage. It’s surprising, given the current financial situation, that the play didn’t come across better, but that’s theatre for you.

© 2009 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Table Manners – November 2008

8/10

By Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by Matthew Warchus

Venue: Old Vic Theatre

Date: Wednesday 26th November 2008

This is the middle play in the trilogy, in the sense that the overall action begins in the garden, the next earliest scene is in the dining room, while the sitting room kicks off last. It’s slightly darker in tone than the sitting room; this is where we get to see each character at their worst, and also where we get the revelations about each woman’s relationship with her man which make sense of Norman’s conquests. We do also get to hear the men’s side of things, too, and we can see for ourselves that Sarah and Ruth are no picnic, but as they’re the ones Norman is targeting, I reckon it’s natural to have a bit more sympathy for them. He certainly does.

He also gets a punch on the jaw during dinner, courtesy of man-mouse Tom, who finally stands up for Annie only to find that Norman was actually insulting his own wife Ruth. Tom’s apologetic “Oh, that’s rather different” got a huge laugh, while the punch itself got a smattering of applause.

The parts were better balanced this time, as Ruth turns up during the second scene, and I love the way Ayckbourn keeps giving us twist after twist. We were in the same seats as before, and the view was still pretty good, though I was nearly blinded by one of the spotlights which came on for several minutes while one of the characters was centre front, if there can be such a thing with theatre in the round. Fortunately it wasn’t on for long, but it was a real nuisance while it was.

The performances were all good again, and if I single out Amanda Root for special praise it’s only because her character, Sarah, has so much more to do in this play, and she handled the twists and turns, the gentle gradients and whiplash-inducing switchbacks with impeccable mastery. Even seeing her from the back, there were some wonderful expressions on her face! She went from cheerful and bubbly (or irritating, as her husband might call it), to worried, to censorious, to nervous, to hysterical, to unhappy, to hopeful but wary, to determined, to cheerful again, all in the space of two and a half hours and with a few other ports of call along the way. Wonderful.

The set was much simpler this time. Still the big jammy dodger effect, but the room itself had only a small storage unit for cutlery, etc., a fireplace, a low stool, and the long dining table with only four chairs, which was never going to be big enough to sit those people round it without open warfare. The entrance from the house was far left from where we sat, the door to garden was to our right. And it’s the garden scenes we’re looking forward to next.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Absurd Person Singular – October 2008

8/10

By Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by Alan Strachan

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 13th October 2008

I liked this even more than I expected to. As is typical of Ayckbourn, this is a very good comedy, and this production is very well cast, so we had a great time.

The play covers three consecutive Christmas Eve gatherings, but we see only the kitchens. The first act is in the kitchen of Jane (Sara Crowe) and Sidney (Matthew Cottle); she’s into cleaning, he’s a handy man with a general store. They’re social climbers who are social misfits in terms of the people they’ve invited over for drinks. They’re so nervous that they end up behaving in completely bizarre ways, such as standing outside in the rain so as not to let on that you’ve had to go out and get some tonic water.

The second kitchen belongs to Eva (Honeysuckle Weeks) and Geoffrey (Marc Bannerman), and is a total mess. Eva doesn’t say a word until she starts singing at the end of the scene, having spent most of it trying to commit suicide and being hampered by the well-meaning assistance of her guests for the evening. Jane cleans her cooker, Sidney attempts to unblock her sink, and Ronald tries to repair the ceiling light fitting, electrocuting himself in the process. It’s darker than the first scene (and not just because the lights go out), but incredibly funny as well, for all the misery. Honeysuckle Weeks showed remarkable agility in taking all sorts of tumbles.

The third scene is set in Marion (Deborah Grant) and Ronald’s (David Griffin) kitchen. Here the social turnaround is complete, as Jane and Sidney are doing very well now his business has taken off, while Marion’s alcoholism is rampant and Ronald the bank manager is having to suck up to his most important customer, Sidney. Geoffrey also needs Sidney’s help, as he’s an architect who could do with some work from the new shopping centre/megastore Sidney’s involved in.

The humour is only partly about the social manoeuvrings, though. There’s a lot of physical comedy, especially in the second act when Eva is trying to kill herself and nobody notices. She keeps leaving goodbye notes on the kitchen table, only for the other characters to grab a bit of paper for something, and so she has to do it all again. Finally she skewers the note to the table with an enormous knife, before attempting to hang herself from the light fitting. This is what leads Ronald to attempt to fix the light fitting, as they all assume that that was what she was trying to do. It’s a really funny scene, which is amazing given the subject matter, and full of wonderful comic touches, such as Eva picking the clothes pegs off the washing line to get her rope.

The final act gives Marion a chance to play grab-the-gin-bottle, which was brilliantly funny, but otherwise it’s much darker, as the characters who were on top in the first act now find themselves at the mercy of the ever cheerful Jane and Sidney. They’re the kind of people who don’t go away when there’s no response to the doorbell; they just sneak round the back to see if they can find a way in. Definitely a reason to book a holiday abroad, but make sure they’re not going to do the same thing first!

It was a good fun evening, and I enjoyed seeing an earlier Ayckbourn again.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Living Together – October 2008

8/10

By Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by Matthew Warchus

Venue: Old Vic Theatre

Date: Wednesday 1st October 2008

I’ve been very aware of the changes to the RSC’s theatres in Stratford, and I’m looking forward to seeing their new main house when it opens, but although I must have read that the Old Vic was being transformed for these Ayckbourn plays, I didn’t register just how major the change would be. It’s what I’ve wanted to see in these old-fashioned London theatres for years, and now it’s happened, if only on a temporary basis. Jubilate!

As it happens, we were probably sitting in much the same place as we normally do, but this time we were only a few feet from the stage (and probably sitting on top of our heads). A big circular platform stood in the front of the auditorium, with seats on two levels behind it, where the stage used to be, and a few seats round the side. The bulk of the seats were in the usual place, but the stalls were lifted higher and raked right up to the circle balcony. We were in the second row, just to the right of the centre aisle, and on the same level as the front row, so other people’s heads were always going to be feature of this performance. The seats were mainly the old ones with new covers, so comfort hadn’t increased, although the leg room had definitely improved.

The set was intriguing. Above the platform hung another large circle, about 3 or 4 feet above it. On both sides was a model of the play’s setting – a country location, with a large old house in the middle, and lots of garden and countryside around it. At the start, this disc rose up to form a high ceiling, and the house in the middle was highlighted, so we could see where we were. The disc also had a clock projected onto it between scenes, to show the passage of time.

The living room was the only set required for this play. There was a fireplace just to our right with a large rug in front of it, a chair, table and telephone further round (anti-clockwise), a space for a doorway to the rest of the house, then the sofa and coffee table, then the door to the garden, then another table with the record player. All the furnishings were 1970s, which made several of them bang up to date, retro being so popular.

There are six characters whom we see over the three plays. Annie lives in the house, looking after her bitch-from-hell mother, and having a puttering sort of relationship with Tom, the local vet. Tom is a rather bland character, who makes magnolia paint look interesting; he’s taken solid and dependable to new lows. With all the pressure she’s under, Annie had arranged to go away secretly for the weekend with her brother-in-law Norman, who’s married to her sister Ruth. This weekend falls through, for reasons which become apparent in one of the other plays, and so Annie and Norman and Tom are all at the house over the weekend. As mother still needed to be taken care of, Annie’s brother Reg and his wife Sarah have also turned up, minus their kids, so it’s a family affair, especially when Ruth arrives following a drunken phone call from Norman.

Not only does Norman get drunk, he also indulges in his favourite pastime of seducing every available woman he can find, which this weekend means that both of his sisters-in-law and his wife are the targets for his charm. Thankfully, mother-in-law seems to be immune. He also gives advice to Tom about how to deal with Annie, and although it seems designed to break them up completely, it actually seems to work, and Annie ends up happier with their relationship than before, at least at the end of this play. Sarah, on the other hand, goes from being a neurotic control freak who can’t stand Norman, nor anyone else, it seems, to a more relaxed happy individual who’s thinking of taking a weekend break in Bournemouth. Her husband recognises the signs. I expect fireworks in the garden as they leave.

They were still in previews, and I did get a sense of some hesitation occasionally, but overall the performances were excellent. Stephen Mangan was a wonderfully shaggy Norman, not as repulsive as some I’ve seen, but certainly immature enough. His comic timing was well to the fore, as in the long pause before he produces the word “magnetic” to describe himself. Amelia Bullimore as his wife, Ruth, does a fine job. There’s less for her to do, of course, as her character doesn’t turn up till the second half, but I got a sense of her focus on her job, and the lack of time for Norman which may partly explain his behaviour. But she also allows herself to be seduced back into bed with him, although this time it’s the rug in front of the fire that they use.

Amanda Root was excellent as Sarah, with nostrils flaring and eyes wide with panic whenever there’s the slightest threat of someone or something edging out of her control. The change to the relaxed version of Sarah was good, and I liked the way Reg finally cottoned on when his wife started talking about taking a weekend break somewhere, on her own. Reg knew all about the abortive weekend with Annie, and wasn’t too stupid to realise what had happened. Paul Ritter played Reg very well, especially as he’s one of the ‘dull’ characters, completely obsessed with developing board games that no-one else understands. Especially Tom.

Tom was played by Ben Miles, and he got across all of Tom’s ….. aarhm ….. well, indecisiveness, I suppose. It was beautifully done. Jessica Hynes, as Annie, was more feisty than some I’ve seen, but still had that depressed air of someone who can’t seem to get away from the burden of looking after her mother. I realised this time that it’s partly her mother’s attitude to clothes and femininity that leads Annie to dress and act the way she does; she doesn’t want to turn into a slapper like her mother. Mind you, she does scrub up well in the second half.

I also got a strong impression of the family unit in this production. It can be complicated working out how all these characters are related at first, but this time I was clear from an early stage. When the three siblings were together, I felt they behaved like brother and sisters, although at that point the heads in front were getting in the way a lot. It’s always so tantalising to see one of these plays and then have to wait for the others, but we couldn’t manage an all-day session , so we’ll just have to be patient. If they’re all up to this standard, we’re in for a treat.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

A Trip To Scarborough – January 2008

8/10

Variations on the original play by R B Sheridan (itself an adaptation of The Relapse by Vanburgh, itself an adaptation/sequel to a play by Colley Cibber) written and updated by Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by Alan Ayckbourn

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 28th January 2008

And what a wonderful trip to Scarborough this was! The blending of the various time settings was pure Ayckbourn, and the “original” 1800 stuff sparkled like a jewel against the more modern scenes. All the long-windedness trimmed down to a few vital (in both senses of the word) scenes, and some comic set pieces by a modern master as well – what joy.

The two later time periods – 1942 and this year – are set in the Royal Hotel, Scarborough, and the action take places in the foyer. There are a couple of hotel servants, Gander and Pestle, who shift between times zones like experienced Time Lords, although they’re not required much in the 1800 scenes. The 1800 scenes are in a mixture of rooms, but as the present day hotel is hosting a fancy dress party, with 19th century period costume, this makes for some entertaining possibilities, and is obviously easier on the cast, as they don’t have to keep rushing backstage to get changed.

The 1800 scenes were a very trimmed down version of a play that has already been through various versions. They mainly occurred in the second half, although the start of the play showed us Hoyden sitting on the steps, holding a doll. Lord Foppington is due to marry Hoyden, the daughter of a Yorkshire gentleman, but his impecunious younger brother gets there first, pretends to be Lord Foppington, and gets the girl. To be fair, he did ask his brother for money first, and if he’d come through for him, then the risky marriage would have been off, but the Lord isn’t one for giving money away needlessly to his family, when he could give it away needlessly to his tailor, wig-maker, etc. (Actually, they didn’t bother with wigs in this production – I suspect it would have been too much to do in the quick changes.)

This story is echoed in the modern scenes, where a valuable manuscript is being sold by the daughter of a wealthy local knight, Sir George Tunberry, without his knowledge, and the dealer, Lance Foppington, is having to fend off the attentions of another young dealer, John Townly, who’s threatening to spill the beans. There’s also a couple of young businessmen staying in the hotel. They’re supposed to be in Aberdeen, at a conference, but they’ve skived off to have some fun in Scarborough instead. One of them spends his time talking to his family on his mobile, pretending to be at the conference, while the other has been caught by his girlfriend having sex with her sister, and now his entire family are giving him earache about it.

In 1942, there’s a regular shindig going on off stage, as some of the pilots are drinking to celebrate a successful mission, except it turns out one of them has been grounded. There’s a mother and daughter also staying at the hotel – the mother has recently lost her husband, and the daughter’s husband is MIA. The main storyline for this period, though, is the mysterious wife swap that one of the guests has done, starting out with wife A, then bringing wife B back from the theatre, and finally reappearing with wife A again. What can this mean? Pestle and Gander are determined to find out, which they do, but sadly without persuading wife B she’s in danger.

All these stories were nicely interwoven, and it was remarkably easy to tell which period we were in. Lighting helped, and the costumes of course. There was a band for the party who gave us music throughout, appropriate to the time zone we were in, and joined in some of the dialogue. The best bits for me were the three airmen giving us their impression of the Andrews sisters (well worth the price of admission alone), Gander’s explanation for deciding to shout “corporal” at wife B (she’s too young to be a sergeant, too intelligent to be a private, and too good-looking to be an officer), and the final revelations in the original time zone, with Lord Foppington getting his comeuppance, and his brother getting a wife.

As usual, this was a good ensemble performance, but I did enjoy some parts a little more than others. I was interested to see Ben Lambert playing the various incarnations of John Townly; he was in French Without Tears last February, standing in at short notice for another actor, and did a very good job. He was fine here, allowing for the fact that his Scottish accent in the early stages was meant to be terrible. Richard Stacey as the penniless brother, the grounded Flight Lieutenant, and one of the modern businessmen, was amazing as the lead Andrews sister, and gave a good account of the 1800s stuff. They were all allowed to really mug up their asides to the audience, and they made full use of it. And Terence Booth, who also stepped in last year to help out in If I Were You, another Ayckbourn, gave us a fine pair of comedy villains in Lord Foppington and his degenerate descendant Lance Foppington, the crooked dealer, slipping in a cameo as Len “the spiv” Foppington just for good measure.

It’s hard to put any more detail to this now, as it all blends together so quickly in my mind. We would have seen this again at the Connaught if we’d had a free night, but as it is, we’re glad we’re saw it last night.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

How The Other Half Loves – October 2007

6/10

By: Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by: Alan Strachan

Company: Peter Hall Company

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 1st October 2007

We hadn’t seen this play for many years, but we had enjoyed it before, and were looking forward to seeing it again. The plot is simple. Bob, who works for Frank, is having an affair with Frank’s wife, Fiona. When Bob’s wife, Teresa, demands to know where Bob was till 3 a.m. last night, he uses another work colleague, William, as an excuse. He claimed William is upset because his wife, Mary, is having a (fictitious) affair. Bob mentions this to Fiona during a surreptitious call, and she also uses this excuse to Frank when he quizzes her, only for her it’s Mary she was giving support to. When William and Mary turn up to dinner at Frank and Fiona’s one night, and Bob and Teresa’s the next, mayhem ensues.

This was a very enjoyable production. I felt the set wasn’t as clearly defined as we’ve seen before, but good enough, and the intermingling of the characters’ actions was still amazing, and very funny. I’d forgotten how the guests arrive at the combined dinner parties, each coming in one door or the other, and of course the swivelling chairs are a highlight. I liked all the performances, although Amanda Royle as Mary probably stood out just a bit from the rest – it’s always fun when the worm turns, and of all the characters, she’s the least repulsive. Marsha Fitzalan as Fiona gets about as many costume changes as the entire cast of Nicholas Nickleby, and Nicholas le Provost as Frank was wonderfully well-meaning and dangerously destructive at the same time. Good fun.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

By Jeeves – September 2007

6/10

By: Andrew Lloyd Webber and Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by: Chris Jordan

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Wednesday 12th September 2007

This was good fun. The premise was a church fund-raising event, put on by Bertie Wooster and some chums, at which Bertie is to be the star and demonstrate his banjo-playing skills. The set backed this up, being the inside of a church hall(?), with the band off to our left, entrances on our right, and a small stage at the back. In addition, several of the cast also sat in the auditorium to begin with, and only joined in the action on stage when things took a mysteriously strange turn.

Some miscreant had made off with Bertie’s banjo! Knowing the books, I suspect that Jeeves bribed some youngster in the vicinity to do the deed, as he’s known not to approve of his employer’s musical efforts. Anyway, Jeeves has sent for a replacement, from Kent, and there will be a two hour delay before it comes. In the meantime, Jeeves suggests that Bertie tells the assembled throng (for such we were) a story. With much prompting from Jeeves, Bertie takes us through the difficulties of the assorted engagements, courtships and burglaries (fake) that enlivened one weekend at Totleigh Towers.

It’s a typical Wodehouse story. There are numerous changes of name. Bertie, for example, goes by his own name, or Gussie Fink-Nottle, or Bingo Little, depending on circumstances. There’s the compulsory irate old geezer (Bassett, in this case), who’s got a down on Bertie, a bumptious American who threatens everything by falling for Madeleine Bassett, and of course the mandatory falling out between Bertie and Jeeves, resulting in a standoff which inevitably leads to Bertie’s complete capitulation as he finds himself totally unable to handle the twists and turns of the plot. Jeeves, as usual, contrives the perfect solution, demonstrating his amazing genius and almost Shakespearean understanding of human nature. And all before the banjo arrives!

Highlights include the fake burglary, with Bertie clambering up a ladder that changes direction halfway up (you had to be there), the maze that kept blocking Bertie’s attempts to get out of it, Bertie’s hat stand impersonation, and the way all the women kept falling for Bertie when all he wanted to do was get them safely paired up with the men who adored them. My favourite section was the car trip to Totleigh Towers, with Jeeves turning the car round to show changes of direction, and scenery and people passing by on the stage at the back.

The performances were very good. Robin Armstrong gave us a very agile Bertie Wooster. His singing and dancing were excellent, and the only sad thing was that we didn’t get to see if he was any good at playing the banjo, as the replacement, when it came, had some special strings that seemed silent to the person playing the instrument, but could be heard really clearly by the audience. Yes, this explanation was given by Jeeves, and yes, Bertie fell for it.

Jeffrey Holland played Jeeves, and had all the necessary presence, gravitas and imperturbability. As stage manager of the fund-raiser, he managed to cobble together some wonderful props at short notice – the car made out of boxes, the maze seat, the bed clothes – although the Wizard of Oz costumes at the end were a bit unusual. We also recognised Jon Trenchard, recently Bianca in Propeller’s Taming of the Shrew, and he did very well playing Bingo Little.

The music was OK, but nothing memorable, and the band were very good. I enjoyed myself well enough, but I wouldn’t necessarily see it again, as the humour is pretty well worn by now. Good production, though.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Bedroom Farce – June 2007

6/10

By: Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by: Robin Herford

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 11th June 2007

This is an early Ayckbourn, and I enjoyed being reminded of his early style. It hasn’t dated too badly, although mentioning emails and still using 70s style phones did seem a bit out of kilter.

The play is set in three bedrooms. Delia (Louise Jameson) and Ernest (Colin Baker) are heading out for an anniversary meal. Their son, Trevor (Ben Porter), is one of those walking disaster areas so pivotal in early Ayckbourn plays, and he’s married Susannah (Beth Cordingly), a good match in terms of an ability to cause chaos without really trying. They’re going through a bit of difficulty in their marriage, and the time they spend in the company of other couples may help them to resolve their problems, but doesn’t do much for the others.

There’s Jan (Hannah Yelland), one of Trevor’s previous girlfriends, of whom Delia is still very fond, and who seems to still have a bit of feeling left for Trevor, despite her reputation for common sense. She’s married to Nick (Timothy Watson), who’s stuck in bed with some painful injury to a motor muscle, and behaving very badly. It may be because of his injury, but I suspect it’s a bit more widespread than that. Jan leaves him for a short while to go to a house-warming at Kate (Natalie Cassidy) and Malcolm’s place. They’re relatively newly married, and still finding out about each other. Malcolm (James Midgley) has a habit of leaving various items in the bed – hairbrush, frying pan, that sort of thing. He also thinks he can do DIY, but can’t, though Trevor’s attempts to help certainly don’t improve things. Between Trevor and Susannah, nobody gets much sleep, despite all of the action being set in the bedrooms of Delia and Ernest, Nick and Jan, and Kate and Malcolm.

As usual, it took a while to get going, as all the characters and relationships had to be established first. I did like Delia’s line about the restaurant keeping the table for them as they were regulars – “we go there every year!” All the performances were very enjoyable. I possibly liked Nick best, though there wasn’t a lot in it. The humour is mainly of the embarrassing sort so I didn’t always feel comfortable with it, but by the end I was thoroughly enjoying it all.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

If I Were You – January 2007

8/10

By: Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by: Alan Ayckbourn

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Tuesday 30th January 2007

This was good fun – another Alan Ayckbourn special. Like a lot of his recent work, he sets up the situation in detail in the first half, and you have to wait for the second half to see the full comic potential emerge. In this case, it’s a family situation, with two abused wives and two macho husbands, unthinking and uncaring, subjecting their wives to serious unpleasantness, and even violence. There’s also a son who’s still at school, to add to the mix.

Mal and his wife, Jill, are a married couple with two kids – Chrissie, who’s married to Dean, and has a young baby, Liam, and Sam, still at school and wanting to act, which his father disapproves of. Thinks acting is for poofs – you know the sort. We see Mal and Chrissie go through their day – Mal as the bullying, aggressive manager of a furnishing store, and Jill the depressed housewife, hardly getting dressed before her son gets home from school. Chrissie comes round to go shopping with her Mum, and ends up spending the day with her, doing her best to give her support. During this time, we discover that she’s being beaten fairly regularly by Dean, the apple of Mal’s eye – a “real” man as far as he’s concerned. Dean works with Mal, and joins him in the boozing and bullying. Sam, on the other hand, seems more sensitive, and doesn’t enjoy regular schooling. We’re aware that he’s probably got a crush on his English teacher, which is why he’s so keen to do the acting, but when we see his Francis Flute later on, he’s not bad. More on that later.

Mal has refused to sign a form that Sam needs in order to be involved in a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, being done as part of an open-air theatre program, not part of the school’s drama work. His mother has promised to sign another copy of the form, and to keep it from Mal, and to help Sam with his lines the next day. Mal has had to deal with a sick secretary, Sandra (he’s threatened to fire her if she’s not in work the next day), a stroppy client whom he’s told to “fuck off”, and his lover, Trixie, whom he sees at lunchtime, with Dean covering for him. A visit from Head Office is also pending, so he’s feeling pretty stressed. Jill is obviously depressed, and could do with getting out of the house by getting a job, while Chrissie needs to find some way to hold her own against Dean. Not Happy Families, this.

At the end of the day, with Mal leaving the remains of his curry stinking up the living room, and refusing to engage in conversation with his wife, we’ve seen the worst that men have to offer their partners, and some of the depths that women plumb trying to live with them. With no explanation given, Ayckbourn is confident enough in his writing skills to have Mal and Jill change personalities during the night, so that Jill wakes up in Mal’s body and he in hers. This we see just before the interval, and Jill/Mal’s scream as she sees herself in the bathroom mirror was a joy to hear. We then spend the second half getting to see how these characters deal with their role reversals, and how the other characters handle the changes. Brilliant fun.

Sam is the first to notice the differences – his Mum is now clearing her chestiness in the morning rather loudly instead of his Dad. Mum no longer knows where anything is in the kitchen, while Dad has put on a pinny and Marigolds, and is cleaning the place up. At least Sam eats breakfast for once – his Mum’s never barked the order to eat at him so fiercely before!

While Mal/Jill is gracelessly coming to terms with being domesticated for the day, Jill/Mal is bonding with everything in sight. She empathises with Sandra, whose “feminine problems” are keeping her off work for another day, and advises her to see a doctor as soon as possible to get it sorted out. She organizes a whip-round at the store for Charlie’s wife, who’s just had a baby, so they can send some flowers. And she deals with the stroppy customer, back for a return bout, by agreeing with everything and promising nothing – apparently that’s the best way to deal with that type. Towards the end of the day, she also deals with Trixie, whom she has not visited during lunchtime, by telling her that Jill knows, and is terribly jealous. She makes out Jill is coming into the room with a knife and (screams)…..end of phone call. Trixie probably won’t be back.

Meantime, Mal/Jill has attempted to dress smartly – in a flowery tangerine top and leopard print trousers that go way beyond clashing. Makeup is likewise not too successful, but you have to give the poor man marks for effort. Sadly, he doesn’t spot that the vacuum is full to the brim, so to get it to work he takes it to pieces. Chrissie arrives at this point, and the vacuum gets put to one side so they can have a natter over a cup of coffee. Naturally, during this talk, Mal/Jill discovers that his blue-eyed boy, Dean, has been beating his daughter, the only woman he seems to prize. He also finds out later, from Sam, that lots of things have been kept from Dad, as otherwise they wouldn’t be able to do anything, to which Mal/Jill can only agree. He does at least carry out Jill’s promise the previous day to help Sam with his lines, and during this finds out about the crush on the English teacher. He’s much relieved.

Sam gives a demonstration of Thisbe’s final speech – a very moving one, depending on how it’s done. This time the emotions came across, and Mal/Jill and Chrissie are obviously engrossed. This is the time when Dean came in the previous day and checked the football results when the women were watching a TV show – totally inconsiderate. Today he comes in when Sam has finished Thisbe’s speech, and is so out of place, and so unpleasant, that Mal/Jill punches him, knocking him onto the couch. Hooray! Chrissie finally has her leverage over Dean, and she asks her family not to tell anyone Dean was knocked out by a woman, because if anyone’s going to tell his friends at the rugby club, it’ll be her.

Jill/Mal shocks Sam even more by offering to make him something to eat – like a lot of teenagers, he seems to be living off cans of fizzy drink – and as he leaves with his sandwich, he unwittingly expresses the reality of the situation by saying “Thanks, Mum”.

As they go to bed, Mal and Jill seem to be coming to terms with their situation, but as they go to sleep, with Jill/Mal counting sheep, they change back again, and now comes the biggest question of all. With all that these two characters have learned during the day, how have they changed? Will they stay changed? Their final coming together suggests that their relationship will be better than before, if not perfect, but then few of us can manage that.

The bulk of the comedy in this was clearly in the male/female conflicts and differences, and there were some tremendously funny bits throughout, mostly in the second half as the role reversal plot developed. I liked that Ayckbourn is tackling more serious subjects in his comedy, if that doesn’t sound too contradictory. Ayckbourn obviously respects women more than men – these women manage to do far more, and more effectively than the men, and it was lovely to see Jill/Mal gain in confidence when doing her husband’s job as well as a good deal of her own. I also found Sam an excellent character – well acted, and he gave us a vital perspective on the changes in both main characters, as well as a pivotal moment in the plot.

But the main acting credits must go to Terence Booth, stepping in to take over the part of Mal, and Liza Goddard as Jill. Both were excellent, especially in portraying the other’s character after the change. It was always clear to us who was who, and that made the whole thing work marvellously well.

The set was typical Ayckbourn – part of a kitchen, a bedroom, and a sitting room. Change the lighting, and voila! we’re in the furnishing showroom. Marvellous economy, and very effective.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me