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KENT DRAMA ASSOCIATION FULL LENGTH PLAY FESTIVAL 2004
C E EVANS
CRANBROOK ODS: “ABIGAIL'S PARTY” by MIKE LEIGH
FRIDAY 16 APRIL 2004
There was a varied and contrasting field of entries in the Kent Full Length Drama Festival in 2004. Entries included a number of old Festival favourites, such as “The Diary of Anne Frank” and “Arsenic and Old Lace”; some well tried Ayckbourn in “A Chorus of Disapproval” and “Ten Times Table”; a lively, spoof musical in “Little Shop of Horrors”; and a category of more serious theatre such as Debbie Isitt’s “The Woman Who Cooked Her Husband” and Jonathan Harvey’s “Guiding Star”. Fitting appropriately between the serious and the comic was Mike Leigh’s celebrated comedy-drama “Abigail’s Party”, entered by the enthusiastic and well-organised CODS, the Cranbrook Operatic and Dramatic Society.
CODS’ choice, Mike Leigh’s “Abigail’s Party”, remains a minor milestone in the development of British drama on stage and television. Dating from the turbulent year of 1977, the piece memorably reflects the mood, unrest and preoccupations of the time. It was worked up – ‘devised’ rather than improvised’ – through Leigh’s characteristic method of extensive preparation of character with the actors offstage, followed by the intensive group work in rehearsal onstage, finally arriving at a script. One of the fascinations of the piece is the way in which it can vary in performance between Comedy of Manners, acting expertise, sharp social satire, or even dark portrait of moral bankruptcy. In the hands of the Cranbrook Society, blending the comic and the cruel, it provided an evening as amusing as it was unsettling.
The technicalities established from the first an excellent framework for the piece. The set certainly bore the hallmarks of Beverly’s misconceived taste, and the prints, ornaments and even cocktail snacks (as well as her ‘artistic’ offstage picture) all achieved a cumulative vulgarity. But, reflecting the increased gap between Beverly and Laurence, the set seemed divided, and one half suggested Laurence’s attempted escape route to better things. A minor flaw was the sharp edge to the set, and shading down would have helped to focus the attention downwards to the onstage action. Above all, the set design provided good acting space and sightlines for the action of the play. Lighting remained very even across the set, and some possibilities of accentuating (either perceptibly or imperceptibly) key moments or groupings were not fully explored. A feature of the production was the establishing of the world outside the immediate and visible environment, and the disorder and noise of Abigail’s party (as even neighbouring houses at No 9 and 16) was well evoked. Delineation of character, a key element especially when as here attention is mainly on minutiae rather than dramatic events, was here reflected in a wardrobe which could have been chosen by the characters themselves. Beverly’s emerald showpiece, Laurence’s ‘trust-me’ suit, and, perhaps most effective of all, Susan’s post-divorce cardigan and blouse, especially stand out in the mind. Music was well chosen and always crisply on cue (though the party theme could have effectively ‘warmed the curtain’ prior to the play and in the interval). In terms of presentation, the backstage team provided a believable and practical context for the action of the play.
‘Abigail’s Party’ has a cast of five, each strongly individual and providing sharply contrasting acting opportunities. Over many revivals, the characters have become well known, and there is always the danger of a stock reading. In this production five very different portraits had a freshness which brought new angles to the characters. This Beverly certainly had her monstrous side, and the slinky walk, irritating vocal trill and reiterated ‘let’s face it’ made up an imagined sophistication that was all too real. Yet the portrayal had compassion, too, and at times – perhaps notably in the well-taken lines ‘I love Laurence, in my own way’, and the revelatory ‘we’re not here to hold a conversation, we’re here to enjoy ourselves’ – one could catch a sense of the muddle of ideas that impelled this character. Very evident, too, was the iron will that swept all before her, and it was this will, one could believe, that had first attracted Laurence. He, sounding a sad note beneath the bluster, was played as one who now realised how he had missed out on life’s better things, and how his dominating wife brought death and not salvation. Laurence was here world-weary rather than stressed, and this alternative reading gave the play depth in an unexpected area of its development. Another notable reading, and a highlight of the production, was Angela, played with a slow contrasting baritone to Beverly’s piping treble. The portrayal, self-deprecating (‘I never thought anyone would marry me’), mindlessly following sudden conversational impulses (‘Have you always had a moustache?’) and making tactlessness seem utterly normal (‘Are you separated or divorced?’) had a naturalness and ease that was memorable. The performance also caught the growing release produced by alcohol, the increasing pace and freedom of the chatter, the sudden revelation of Tony’s thinly veiled aggression, all suggesting an unaccustomed excitement as if a small poodle were let off the leash. As the other side of this ill-matched couple, Tony had a withdrawn surliness that was at times menacing: he was more than capable, one felt, of sellotaping Angela’s mouth. One could easily believe that this couple had rowed before coming because Tony would have preferred to watch the football on television and saw little point in social chitchat. The monosyllabic exchanges with Beverly, played with absolute flatness, were particularly revealing and the actor found in the non-committal ‘Yeah’ and ‘Ta’ a kind of bloke-ish inanity. What emerged strongly from the playing of the two couples was the contrast of Bev and Laurence’s slide to war with the armed truce of Angela and Tony. Adding finally to this intriguing quartet was a Susan of sometimes almost unbearable pathos. Sitting stiffly with clamped knees, the clutched handbag as precarious as her grip on life itself, disappointed and out of place, she stared blankly into her inner void. Yet always, in a sensitive portrayal, there was a sense of retaining dignity at all costs. This was a cast that saw, and took, the comic possibilities of the roles, but were afraid of showing the bleak emptiness of the lives beneath.
The blend and contrast of the five players reflected the overall vision of a director who clearly knew and understood the play and its purpose. Movement was a strongpoint, always counterpointing the play’s psychological shifts of power, while the play’s stiller moments were held in groupings which nearly always made a revealing stage picture. The teamwork was exemplary, the actors cueing crisply even through the tricky overlaps, while the still moments of pain, particularly during Susan’s discomfiture, were given their full value of pause and subtext. Projection and audibility were without fault. But, above all, the play’s meaning – its changes in mood and focus, its range from comic to nightmare, from ignorance to spite and vindictiveness – was always achieved, and sometimes brilliantly. As the author intended, an appreciative audience was by turns amused, pained, embarrassed, moved – and the ending was climactic.
In summary, this was a bold, almost brutal, choice of play, presenting a difficult challenge of period, interpretation and acting. It was comprehensively set, subtly (perhaps at times over-subtly) lit and used sound effects well. The direction was assured, maintaining a good pace while finding pause and silence as the mood varied. The comic notes in the play were well sounded but the production also found the dark unease beneath. All five acting performances were strong, with believable relationships as well as characters, often finding unusual slants in their depiction. One particularly polished performance at the centre of the play was revelatory. Well acted, well directed, well set and well presented, this production merged vulgarity, fun, pain and comment in a blend that enriched the Festival.
20 May 2004
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