|
If you ever feel like putting your relationship to the test, spend an evening assembling furniture. Finding yourself at the end of the evening with both your furniture and relationship intact surely means you are on to something.
Flat-pack has an ability to reduce us to the worst versions of ourselves, but also to show there might be something good there after all. In Alan Ayckbourn's Bedroom Farce a wonky dressing table may be a symbol of fragile masculinity, easily toppled over by more exciting blokes, but also silently propped up and protected by a supporting partner. It is also a wonderful vehicle for comedy, in this production of one of this prolific playwright's more recognised works.
We start with the first bedroom, which belongs to the play's most mature couple, Delia and Ernest, who are celebrating their anniversary. Anne Connell is matriarchal Delia, who would be able to sort out everyone's problems if only
they'd listen to her advice. Her late phone call to Jan was a comic masterpiece. Jonathan Norris as husband Ernest is a perfect fit as the subdued half of the long-established couple. Together they have some of the play's most
entertaining exchanges, especially the Keeping-Up-Appearances-evoking dialogue on the vulgarity of overtipping, followed inevitably by a dialogue about undertipping.
When Delia and Ernest depart for their celebratory meal, we meet Jan and Nick. Contrasting Delia and Ernest's placid residence, this bedroom is full of negative emotion. Ryan Lee's bedridden Nick is suitably sulky and tantrum-prone, and cannot fathom why this fate has befallen him ("Why me? ...Why me? ). Harriet Hahn as Jan acts as the unwilling nurse, barely able to keep her temper around her whining husband. No wonder she seems only too eager to escape to a housewarming party, leaving Nick alone with his sour countenance and splintered spine.
The party is at Kate and Malcolm's, whose unfinished bedroom completes the set. This couple - described sarcastically by Nick as "love's young dream" - certainly seem to enjoy each other's company better than the previous pair.
Harriet Snell's Kate (Few people can have hidden in an unmade bed so appealingly). and Martin Shaw's Malcolm dash around like giddy teenagers in a manner that is impossible not to smile at. This, we can assume, is their first home together and they are eager to showcase their newfound domestic happiness to the imminently arriving guests.
But before the party even gets going, bad news arrive in the form of Trevor, son of Delia and Ernest. He has (once again) had problems with his wife Susannah : "You feel yourself being pushed under, as if on top of you were a great ...
a great ... heavy weight." Richard Brent gives a great performance as the moping, self-centred Trevor, who unwittingly wrecks the homes and relationships of all who make the mistake of paying attention to his ramblings. Equally self-interested is wife Susannah, who arrives just to shut herself in any available room to wail and recite self-help affirmations. Rachel Bothamley is suitably and attractively distraught (or potty, as Ernest would say) as Susannah, alternating between despair over the loss of Trevor's respect, and rage against her husband's thoughtlessness.
The first act finishes with a well-choreographed fight between Trevor and Susannah, with Kate and Malcolm acting as referees. Susannah runs away to terrorise unsuspecting Delia and Ernest, while Trevor embarks on a rather misguided apology tour to Jan and Nick's. Before their departure, the pair also manage to cause a rift between the lovey-dovey Kate and Malcolm.
The second act delivers some of the funniest moments of the play: Susannah's inquiry into the intimate details of her mother-in-law's love life ("We all get ignored sooner or later."); Ernest being banished first to the bathroom, and then to the spare room ("I don't think I've ever spent a night like this in my life!"); and Trevor's selfishness reaching new heights as he pesters poor invalid Nick to the point of a nervous breakdown. Trevor and Susannah also treat their long-suffering friends and relatives to a series of pre-dawn phone calls, which surely makes one thankful for the invention of the mobile phone.
The scene changes are seamless, which gave the production a cinematic feel. Stephen Ley's Lighting design was spot on, guiding the audience through the frequent switches between the bedrooms, where we sometimes visit only briefly - Nick's painful book-hunt expedition being one of the short scene highlights. Colin Guthrie's sound design succeeded as well, as the sounds clearly project from the different houses, especially during Kate and Malcolm's party, and Ernest's roof inspection "Just having a look at the pointing".
David Taylor's set design is also delightfully well thought of. The bedrooms all have a distinct look, Delia and Ernest's being as bland and safe as their relationship, while Jan and Nick's is full on 70s fancy knickknacks from a beanbag chair to the Newton's Cradle on the shelf. Kate and Malcolm's messy room reflects their young relationship, where finally the most important feature is the doomed dressing table (the collapse of which is executed flawlessly). Lynda Twidale's costumes took us back to an era where style was forever in dispute with common sense. All in all, director John Chapman is clearly comfortable with Ayckbourn's work, directing his actors with confidence. and put together an enjoyable, wickedly funny production.
In the end, we are left somewhat in the dark on what will come of Trevor and Susannah's marriage. If taking Delia's guidance, they may learn to find excitement in naughty late-night pilchard feasts. Or they may face the
fate of Kate's new dressing table ("I'll just tell him it ... Suddenly collapsed"). What we do know though, is that Susannah finally gets to recite her affirmations in peace.
Photography by Robert Piwko
|
