Roleplay
Gulbenkian Theatre, Thursday 1st December 2005 Anyone who has ever hosted a dinner party will be able to relate to this exaggerated take on such occasions. This begins by uncovering their banality and showing us how they quickly become all-consuming to the prospective hosts. The most trivial of things – missing dessert forks, place settings – suddenly become important as the planning is taken to obsessive levels. Justin (played by Ed Clark) is a bumbling software-designer; Julie (Sally Parker) his meek yet slightly domineering fiancée. The dinner party has been arranged so Justin can announce their recent engagement at his Dockside flat, but the night cannot proceed until Julie dishes out a few rules. As these rules are laid down – refer to her as Julie-Anne rather than Julie, deny ever having lived together, don’t, whatever-you-do, mention her two sisters - you get a sense he isn’t always in control of the relationship. It is partly because of this that he soon establishes himself as the more likable of the two. Julie – or, if you will, Julie-Anne - is sweet and good-natured, but also controlling and delusional. The moment where she describes her fairytale honeymoon fantasy makes it clear that she is expecting a great deal from Justin, and evidently more than he can deliver. She’s not a great believer in reality, placing fairly unreasonable hopes on her soon-to-be husband. As she rushes out for an all-important replacement dessert fork, Paige (Emily Rosen) – the trophy girlfriend of a notorious boxing promoter - literally lands, freezing and bleeding, on the balcony. Soon to follow, via the unlocked front door, is her minder Micky (Mike Rivarno), who is supposed to ensure she doesn’t leave the top-floor flat. Micky and Paige don’t want to leave, and Justin doesn’t want to have to tell them to – especially after Micky threatens him with a gun - so the pair stay for dinner. Paige is, in her own words, a ‘common’ former dancer, and is in fear of being killed by her soon-to-be-returning boyfriend Rudy. Micky is Rudy’s thuggish security man and a failed ex-boxer. He speaks only when entirely necessary and proclaims to dislike everything, but clearly lights up whenever boxing is mentioned. They both try to appear strong but, through living in fear for their lives, also seem vulnerable. Julie’s parents, Derek (Tony Johnson) and Dee (Irene Marley), soon arrive having made the journey from Doncaster. Derek is constantly firing quips and has an encyclopedic knowledge of plants, since he owns ‘garden centres across South Yorkshire’. His wife Dee finds his ‘jokes’ consistently funny, and constantly breaks into one of her grating high-pitched chuckles. She seems like a typical grandmother with her perpetual fussing, but isn’t entirely irreproachable. Derek tries to persuade Justin that he is the heir to his garden centre empire; Justin tries (and fails) to persuade Derek that he’s most definitely not. It is during this conversation that Derek’s dark side is revealed, and you discover the bigoted truth for why he refuses to have anything to do with Julie’s two sisters. Justin, who gets continually stressed throughout, very nearly reacts. You long him to, but his good nature and shy demeanor - plus yet another distraction in the flat - stop him from doing so. There are several dark undertones to Roleplay: homophobia and racism are both touched upon, as is alcoholism, to a much larger extent. Justin’s mum Arabella (Anne Hancox) spends the first act intermittently phoning her son to report that, far from being on her way, she has stopped off for a ‘quick drink’. When she does arrive, it is without her mysterious boyfriend Olaf, who she deserted after he crashed into a bus. She repeatedly confuses Paige for Julie, swears, and says what she thinks – in other words, the opposite to her son. Things hot up in the final act as we see the characters post-dinner. As we race towards the end, we get a fight, singing, an erotic dance, and an ending that is predictable but not entirely expected. I won’t spoil it; all I will say is that Justin finds the solace you feel he deserves. The seven characters are all very different, with varying personalities and a fair spectrum of accents between them. This variety inevitably leads to clashes, which is perhaps a comment on society and the class system as a whole rather than just within the small group. The Canterbury Players performed each of their characters impeccably, with Ed Clark’s Justin someone you can truly emphasise with. Some of the situations may be far-fetched, but the story is well written, funny – wickedly so at times – and makes for a thoroughly engaging piece. Ha ha ha
Gulbenkian Theatre, Friday 9th December 2005 “Would you like a monkey nut?” No sooner had I stepped into the Gulbenkian Theatre on Friday night than a heavily made-up man in white tuxedo thrust a bucket full of monkey nuts in my direction. He invited me, in an impeccably well-spoken English accent, to delve in. I politely declined the offer, realising in that moment that this would be no ordinary performance. As the actors brought an end to audience-mingling and took to the stage my theory was proved correct, as the play’s complexity became apparent – there was so much going on. The stage contained a small bedroom ‘set’ surrounded by an open props area, two mini off-set cameras, and two desks equipped with a telephone and more props. Two constantly-playing television screens sat at the front of the stage and as if this wasn’t enough, the set regularly became a screen for black & white projections. Even if only one character was on set, the others would be miming a routine, talking inaudibly, playing with props or running gaily. The audience would know at who and where they were supposed to be looking but couldn’t help but be drawn to developments elsewhere. It occasionally made things look a bit busy but didn’t prove too confusing, and as we sound found out it was all part of the nature of the performance. ‘Ha ha ha’ focuses on the lives of Noel Coward, Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh, a famous and debonair trio that drank heavily, smoked relentlessly, and quoted Shakespeare. The legends of the 1920s and 30s were joined throughout by a photographer, known only as Lucia. Collectively you could have written what I knew about them before tonight on a cocktail olive and some references went over my head. I noted the obvious nod to ‘Romeo & Juliet’ but not to the Coward-penned ‘Blithe Spirit’, yet this only put me at a slight disadvantage. The 1157 Performance Group could be accused of going for easy laughs with the copious amounts of slapstick on display. And although their clearly well rehearsed routines were funny if slightly formulaic, there were plenty other moments of hilarity. The two sex scenes - one accompanied by horn sound effects and the other involving a link-up between Coward and one of the stage TV screens - were both well received, as was the telephone ‘conversation’ between a projected film of the real Coward and the on-stage Coward. An earlier, silent projection of a Coward film was ‘dubbed’ using the actor’s voices and a selection of props, and this was undeniably a clever routine. There were a plethora of well thought-out moments such as that, which acted to counterbalance the slapstick, funny walks and large amounts of randomness. At one point, Coward sings ‘Mad Dogs and Englishmen’ as the other three circle around him on child-sized tricycles. Why? The audience didn’t seem to know, but then they didn’t seem to be asking either. This was a performance all about energy and humour and less about conformity and coherency. Coward and Olivier are both portrayed as camp, talentless and pretentious closet-homosexuals who forged careers by ripping off Shakespeare – so not so much paying homage to them as sending them up - and Leigh is shown as something of a harlot. Their love lives are shown to be a chaotic mess, with one scene suggesting that their relationships were as tangled as those of their on-screen characters, with no-one appearing to know who’s in love with who. Leigh’s and Olivier’s Oscar successes are referenced (the latter’s with a ‘polishing his Oscar’ entendre) but leaves us with a sense that they weren’t entirely deserved. The appearances of the awards are brief and mentioned almost in passing, as if they aren’t worth dedicating any time to. By the end you’re both astounded and exhausted; your eyes have darted around as if you’ve been following a two-hour tennis rally. Some moments did drag on, but there was more than enough going on to keep Coward novices like myself occupied. The 1157 Performance Group promised high energy and they certainly delivered it, clearly having a good time with roles that allowed for spontaneity. From the volume of cheers of an appreciative audience at the end, you could tell they enjoyed it just as much - rarely will the Gulbenkian have hosted a performance of such buoyancy and ordered anarchy. | 
