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The first moments of Di and Viv and Rose at Theatro Technis were well constructed to remind many of us of our first
taste of freedom : jealously clutching our saved-up 10 pence pieces for the filial phone call home from the communal payphone
in the corridor; the strangeness of settling down to a new existence with widely dissimilar neighbours and their unknowable
lives; decisions to be made on how to exploit/pass/fritter away the coming three years. In Penny Tuerk's engaging and pacey
production, this period of adjustment was well depicted with a series of staccato moments with comic or startling effect
(almost one-liners), interspersed with blackouts and jaunty connecting music, delivered with slickness and great timing by
the cast of three. Sound and lighting changes throughout were very much on the ball, prepared by Ruth Sullivan and Alan
Wilkinson respectively, and crisply delivered by Kaushal Ginige and Rob Hebblethwaite.
This opening sequence serves not only to locate us in the student world in general, but also to introduce us to our three
protagonists with numerous hints as to what makes them tick : the uncomplicated, apparently naïve country girl Rose, open-eyed at the availability of presentable young men; smart, practical and soignée Viv with her sociological explanations of the others' behaviour (though curiously not of her own); and relatively inexperienced working-class lesbian Di, enthusiastically signing up for large amounts of sporting activity to accompany her Business Studies course. Keen and experimental cook Rose, who tells Di that Viv is "what we need", arranges for the three of them to eat a meal together, leading to their sharing a house bought for the purpose by her stepfather.
With this move the pace slackens to afford more time to delve into the characters as their relationship flourishes; and in this production the fleshing-out of character was memorably mirrored by the gradual addition of furniture, books and evocative posters to Laurence Tuerk's functional and (deliberately) bare white living-room set. This was unfussily performed (as nearly all scene changes) by the cast themselves, often in the body of the action (and in character), rather than in separate time-consuming hiatuses. The coordination of this hidden hard work was in the capable hands of Stage Manager Alison Liney.
Viv displays her practical nature by neatly adding an extension cable to the cassette-player/radio and immediately turning her hand to making modifications to a set of wonky soup-bowls incautiously bought by Rose. In her Tower début Sims Witherspoon captured well Viv's self-confidence, single-mindedness and relative maturity. Her sociological analysis of Rose's availability to boys, and of Di's lesbian nature, as revealed by their costumes, is the first inkling of how her tight grip on her own career is just part of a general desire to analyse, mould and control the behaviour of others. One could also see how this self-containedness would be seen later as a coldness and a lack of real empathy. We were left wondering when and how any further recesses of her psyche would be revealed, and whether a tunnel vision of one's intended career is ever really justified by results.
Helen McGill's Di showed an effective combination of confidence in her sexuality along with a touching irresolution about how to fulfil it. After a pep-talk from her housemates, the renewed vigour with which she set off to pursue the desirable Abbi Matthews was comically contrasted with her initial failure to track her down, and again with her wonderful jubilation at her eventual success in making a date. Di had probably the best share of the pithy one-liners and Helen (helped, inevitably, by her Northern accent) certainly made them all tell. I enjoyed a good deal of unscripted acting, too, in her facial reactions to the others' various strictures or unthinking generalisations.
The character of Rose (persuasively played by Éireann Mason in her Tower début) was, for me, the easiest of the three to warm to, though I have heard others disparage both her promiscuity and her lack of academic focus. Rose seemed other-worldly in her confident search for happiness and people to share it with. Her philosophy seemed to have been forged during school years - and was ready to be expounded on a suitable cue - but was only now being put fully to the test. Éireann gave a winning impression of the idiot savant ("silly bar of soap") whose way of life centres on making deep connections with people. Viv, by contrast, is convinced that we are all separate. After an exhilarating scene of improvised dancing to "Let's Go Crazy" on their return from a dance (choreography by Ruth Sullivan), Rose wakes the exhausted Viv for a chat, and is rewarded by a merciless interrogation about her "neediness". She sees it as kindness, and asks why Viv doesn't sleep with anyone. Again, Viv is not to be drawn on her 'private' life : "Why would I be jealous of someone so stupid?". It is a hurtful, pivotal moment,
and the mood blackens ...
Without a break, Rose is seen on the phone, trying unsuccessfully to report the rape of Di by an unidentified intruder.
The following scenes effectively show the three of them unselfishly propping one another up as Di slowly works through her
hurt and her anger, cocooned in a makeshift shelter in the living room. We are made to wait a while for any continuation
of character development until Di in particular is good and ready - reflecting the time it is likely to take in real life.
She has met Elaine at the Rape Crisis Centre and begins the journey to a stable long-term partnership; Rose decides to go
through with her pregnancy, disguising it with a corset to be constructed by Viv; Viv receives a job offer from her fashion
idol in New York. With graduation comes the end of the continuous sharing of their life, and the interval. Those heading
for the bar missed the ingenious covering of the walls with blacks mounted on wooden frames, and the removal of furniture - the anonymity of a blackened acting area symbolising the separation of the characters from university and from each other. Two well-programmed projection screens took over the narration from here on, marking the progress of time, and providing clues to the varying locations.
Viv pays a visit back to the UK. Her career is starting to take off, Di is in a job which she feels hardly worth the time it takes up, and Rose is exhausted by nursing her half-Japanese twins in the repressive atmosphere of her mother's house. The next year, Di comes to stay with her to their mutual benefit. A further ten years later Viv is presenting her creations at a gala in New York and treats the others to a trip for the occasion. Di and Rose 'posh up' for the occasion, as you would expect.
Costumes throughout (as Viv would have approved) clearly laid out the types of character we were to expect. Assembled by
Sheila Burbidge (assisted by Peter Westbury), these ranged from the simply practical jeans and t-shirts of Freshers' Week,
Di's sporty kit, Rose's floral print skirt and fluffy jumper, to chinos and country check shirts. Viv's choices were always
in keeping with her distinct and thought-through career path - right from the beginning - culminating in a fabulously sexy and self-conscious clinging black dress for the Gala (Ms Witherspoon's own, I gather!). As if visible stage management were not enough in addition to remembering lines and exits and entrances, the cast had at least a dozen changes of costume each, ably (and invisibly) aided by Sheila Burbidge and Ruth Sanderson in a way which scarcely impinged on the smooth pace of the action.
By now Di is settled down : "If queers could marry, I'd marry Elaine". Rose has a relationship with an Algerian gardener
called Patrice, wonders whether to marry him, and asks the others whether they would attend and say a few words.
Cut to a year later : Di is saying a few words ... at Rose's funeral. Rose always assured the others that she was careful (she meant in bed), but stepped off the pavement without looking. Her particular trajectory has been interrupted in a meaningless way - a reflection of the randomness of life. For Amelia Bullmore, it provides the catalyst for a downbeat ending to the play which contains some nuggets of rumination on the nature of friendship. Whereas the last we see of Rose shows her growing strong through her sons' upbringing and education and an optimistic forecast for married life - a last glimpse of her optimism paying off at last as she cheerily rings her new family from across the Atlantic - the outcome is less satisfactory for the others. Di's funeral oration, movingly delivered, picks out various members of the (unseen) congregation for solace, and then confides how much the casual brutality of fate has a direct impact on the victim's close friends. Viv's reaction is shockingly different : Di finds her lying drunk in the grounds, abusively vocal about the funeral, fulminating about the contrast between the way Rose was treated in life, and eulogised after death. Di patiently deals with this new side of Viv, who is uncontrollably venting her disgust on everyone in a scatter-gun approach. You really want to know why she reacts so violently, but Ms Bullmore isn't letting on yet. In a tellingly uncomfortable and awkward scene, Di makes all the running in arranging to get Viv to the airport in time - then Viv effectively blows the relationship by mislaying a precious box of keepsakes from their student days which Di has entrusted to her temporary keeping.
Cut to the final scene after a further 11 years have elapsed. Viv visits Di in a neutral place (Elaine being disinclined to welcome her to the house). Di is on a mobility scooter as a result of spinal tumours - which Viv analyses as Di's built-in defence for her aggressive stance. We were startled by the changes in the relationship wrought by time and neglect : Viv's tentative attempts to pick up the dropped relationship, met by Di's monosyllabic replies; and Di's long-harboured resentment at what she sees as Viv's failure to measure up as a true friend. As tempers are effectively fuelled, Viv has to plead for an explanation of what she has done wrong, and is shocked with not being forgiven for failing to sense intuitively what support Di needed, and when. Backed into her corner, Viv finally reveals her surprisingly acute self-awareness, her jettisoning of her parents, her very similar need for a true friendship, her caring funding of the twins' university education - all of which cut no ice with Di, who scoots off.
Just in time Viv plays her trump card - the revelation of her disastrous and short-lived marriage to a long-term, glamorous
and very gay friend in New York. The ludicrousness of their completely overlooking the unsuitability of the marriage strikes
both women and, in a final, heart-warming, redemptive moment (refreshingly real in this performance), they become helpless
with cathartic laughter : though driven, Viv is really 'just like us' after all. "Keep up" says Di at the end, which we
comprehend with relief as "We have arrived at a mutual understanding, so come home and meet Elaine and the dogs ..."
This popular play hides its perceptive and truthful heart in a witty shell of repartee and gives us much to like about the
three contrasted protagonists. A clever and classy piece of drama, thought-provoking and delivered with much Tower panache.
Photography by Ruth Anthony
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