Southport’s Little Theatre, a plush, genteel, beautiful old theatre, is the home of the Southport Dramatic Club, now in its 99th year: former Chairmen’s names are etched in gold leaf on wooden wall plaques, they serve civilised tea in the interval and staff and audiences clearly love the place.
In this very traditional space, Richard Bean’s riotous, ridiculously popular and award-laden adaptation of Goldoni’s eighteen century farce, which made a stage star out of He Who Shall Not Be Named in the National’s performances, still cuts the mustard, with its sharp comedy of gangsters, disguise, dodgy business, double-dealing and, ultimately, romance.
1960’s Brighton sees unemployed skiffle musician Francis Henshall employed by two men – gangster Roscoe Crabbe and dense ex-public schoolboy Stanley Stubbers, and desperately trying to keep the two men apart so he can continue to cash in on both wages is the springboard for a comedy where classes collide. Other characters thrown into the frantic mix include Roscoe’s twin sister, local mobster Charlie ‘The Duck’ and the cringeworthy actor Alan Dangle (who affords Bean the liberty of satirizing the pomposity and affectedness of OTT thespians).
This fast-paced farce is a comedy of errors, mistaken identity, slapstick, innuendo and clever wordplay (although Stubbers displays a mystifying but very funny line in obtuse and nonsensical sayings), mixing high and low humour, as Carry On sensibilities intertwine with references to classical theatre.
Francis repeatedly breaks the fourth wall and drags up audience members to assist him in his increasingly panicked endeavours to keep his livelihood intact and to invite them to guess what his motivations should be. (Clue: they involve various appetites). The audience, it must be noted, were initially reluctant to participate and sparred verbally in their own defence; I’ve honestly never seen an audience so slow to get on stage.
The cast really do put their heart and soul into the performance and although working as a solid ensemble, some performances do solidly anchor the show and Tony O’Keeffe as Charlie ‘The Duck’ Clench, a twitchy, Del Boy type wheeler dealer, & Chris Smalley as posh boy Stanley Stubbers, with his Matt Berry booming tones and delivery, were compelling. However, plaudits must go to Liam Rabbette, who took over the role of Francis with less than three weeks rehearsal time and who acquitted himself brilliantly with perfect comic timing and a lot of dialogue.
In the programme, director Adrienne Ledson explains the play as an escape from the stresses and strains of the real world, but I’m not sure if she’s being entirely disingenuous, as the surface comedy is underpinned with real life issues – unemployment, juggling work commitments, the sexism of the time, the necessity of working the system to get on et al.
There is a bit of fraying around the edge that needs snipping off; some of the sound effects are clumsy, the TV background artiste whispering/mouthing of unspoken dialogue gives an uncomfortable artifice and the pauses between scene changes are slightly too long and the frenetic nature of the scenes themselves only points this up.
The audience are regulars and almost all were older theatre-goers and somewhat subdued in their laughter & applause as they seemed to be absorbing the fast-paced and intricate plot - and so laughing was a secondary concern, which was a shame as the cast completely throw themselves (often physically) into their roles with clear enjoyment, verve and gusto.
I would love to see a younger audience be entranced into this historical space and to witness such a lively contemporary play; the venue has a definite cosiness and clearly attracts regulars for whom the venue is a second home (the couple next to me celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary who have been attending for 30 years are a case in point) but maybe it’s also time to market such labours of love productions to a younger, less traditional audience demographic?
Reviewer - Tracy Ryan
on - 24/9/19
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